No Ordinary Love

Like A Bad Dream

by Leyla Harrison




This story is a follow up to my story "A Love So Strong" (which I am 

reposting for those who didn’t read it).  So you should likely read that 

one before you read this one.  The earlier story will help you understand 

where Mulder and Scully are at, relationship wise.  And, yes, this *is* a 

relationship story!



As a relationshipper (and a dark soul) I like to explore the sadder, 

angrier side of every character's personality.  This may come as no 

surprise for most people who have read some of my other stories.  I tend 

to write in a melodramatic style...but hey, it works.  “A Love so Strong” 

was pretty-angst ridden, and I figured it begged for an angst-ridden 

follow-up, although I’m not sure this was exactly what most people would 

have had in mind.  It certainly wasn’t what I had in mind originally!



Standard Disclaimer:  The usual stuff.  The characters of Fox Mulder, 

Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Margaret Scully, Melissa Scully and the 

Scully boys (and I have no clue what the hell their names really are) 

don't belong to me.  They belong to Chris Carter and company, the folks 

over at 1013 and Fox Television.  All other characters in this story are 

my own creation.



Rating:  This story, if it under the guidelines of the MPAA, would be 

rated PG-13 for adult situations.  There's some swearing and mature 

themes.  Section Five is rated R for some sexual situations, but nothing 

graphic.  However, my personal rating would have to be K.  Which, of 

course, stands for Kleenex.  Yep, folks, it's time to drag the old box of 

Kleenex out for this one.  It's a sad one.



THANK YOU Lea for editing...



LAST WARNING: Mulder/Scully romance ahead!!!



OK, on with the show...



*****



"Hi, Dana, how are you?"  Dr. Adele Morgan breezed into the exam room.  

She was petite, as was her patient, but she made up for what she lacked 

in height with her personality.  She was one of the most highly regarded 

doctors in the Washington area, primarily because of her skill and 

knowledge, and secondarily because of her devotion and sensitivity to her 

patients.  To top it all off, Adele Morgan was a family practitioner, 

which meant that she could handle everything from an infant's cold to 

gynecological procedures to elderly patients with Alzheimers.



"Fine, thanks," Scully replied warmly.  Seeing Dr. Morgan made her feel 

less uncomfortable about the thin paper robe she was wearing.  Scully had 

been Adele Morgan's patient for about ten years now, and the two enjoyed 

a good patient/doctor relationship as well as a good friendship.  Adele 

Morgan had watched Dana Scully through medical school and her rise 

through the FBI.  Scully had often contacted her for information and with 

questions, both personal and case related.  Scully respected Adele a 

great deal, and the feeling was mutual.



"So," Adele Morgan said, flipping through the chart as she sat down, 

"well, you were just here five months ago for a general check-up, and 

things were fine.  Is anything wrong?"



"Well, I was hoping to talk to you about the birth control pill," Scully 

said, feeling like a teenager.  "I know I could have asked for the 

prescription over the phone, but..."



Adele Morgan looked at her, gave her *that* look, and Scully blushed 

deeply.  "Is there something you haven't told me?  Who is he, Dana?" she 

asked.



"Mulder," Scully answered, without hesitation.  She trusted Adele 

implicitly.



"Mulder as in your partner, Fox Mulder?" Adele asked, her eyes widening. 

 Scully nodded.  "Well, Dana, congratulations.  I didn't think it would 

*ever* happen."



"What do you mean?"



"Well, I could see what was going on between the two of you from miles 

away.  All that heat, all that sexual tension..."



"Adele!" Scully protested.   "There wasn't that much heat."



"Sure there was," the doctor answered, smiling.  Scully smiled back.  

"So, you want the Pill?"



"I figured that would be the best method."



"Well, I guess you could use condoms, but then I'd have to go out and buy 

stock in them.  You'd make me a wealthy woman, Dana."



"Well," Scully answered, a hint of a blush spreading across her cheeks 

again, "we did use them a few times.  But the other times..."



Adele shook her head.  "You should know better, Dana."



"I know," Scully agreed, "but Adele, I know him.  I trust him.  And 

besides, it was only two times.  I know his entire medical record.  I've 

seen him in critical condition, on death's door.  He doesn't have 

anything, don't worry. I know his blood chemistries in my sleep."



"I'll bet that that's not all you know in your sleep," Adele teased.  

"OK, feet in the stirrups.  I have to give you a pelvic, that's standard. 

 And then some blood work, which is also standard."  Scully obediently 

moved to place her feet in the metal stirrups which were covered with 

cloth socks.  "So, tell me, because I've seen this guy, and I think he's 

hot.  Is he good in bed?"  Adele reached for a lab requisition as she 

waited for Scully to get her feet up.  She checked off the box that was a 

general all inclusive lab work-up.  It included seven different assays of 

the blood.  Then she placed the requisition on the counter for Scully to 

take with her to the lab when she was done.



Scully tried not to think about it.  After all, she was on the exam 

table, with her legs spread.  Usually any thought of her and Mulder in 

bed was enough to arouse her wildly.  And now was hardly the time or 

place.  Scully nodded her head.  "Yes," she answered simply, a smile on 

her face.



*****



ONE WEEK LATER



Scully sat down in Dr. Adele Morgan's office, and regarded the doctor who 

sat across the desk from her.  The older woman's eyes were red-rimmed, 

and she looked exhausted.  "Adele, what's going on?"



"Dana," Adele began, "I don't know how to..." She covered her eyes with 

her hand, and pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from crying.



Scully was really worried now.  She had gotten a call from Adele earlier 

in the day, and her voice on the answering machine sounded frightened.   

Adele wouldn't tell her what was wrong over the phone, and now that 

Scully was sitting across from her, she knew that something terrible was 

wrong.



"Dana," Adele lifted her head and continued, "your blood tests came 

back."



Scully's eyes reflected her surprise.  Oh, God, she thought, was there 

something in them that showed up from when I was missing?  She tried to 

push that ugly thought away.  All of the blood abnormalities should have 

been cleared from her system by this time.  "Adele," she said with 

infinite calm, her legs still crossed in the chair, her hands folded on 

her lap, "tell me."



"You're HIV positive, Dana."



Silence.



"I had them run the blood again, to be sure.  And then I ran it a third 

time myself."  Adele watched the young woman across from her.  Her face 

had gone bloodless, her features frozen.  She wasn't sure if Scully had 

even heard her.  "Dana?"



At least five minutes passed.  Then five more.  Adele was afraid to move 

in her chair.  Scully was still frozen, her body rigid, her eyes 

unfocused.   Finally, Scully stood up.  She cleared her throat and looked 

right at Adele.  "You're sure?" she asked.



"Dana, I'm so sorry.  It's the hardest thing I've ever had to tell 

anyone.  You know that I consider you a friend."  Adele was trying not to 

cry.  



"Are you sure?" Scully asked again, enunciating each word.  Adele nodded 

her head.



Scully gathered her coat and her purse and walked out of the office 

without saying another word.



*****



MIDNIGHT



"Scully?" Mulder asked, shifting to get more comfortable in bed.  "What's 

wrong?"



Scully pushed her face into the pillow, turning so he couldn’t see her 

face.  "Nothing," she mumbled.  "I'm just not in the mood tonight, 

Mulder."



"That's a change," Mulder quipped.  He gently took hold of her shoulders 

and turned her so that she was face to face with him.  "Scully, you've 

hardly spoken to me all afternoon, not to mention since we got home.  

What's going on?"



Scully looked at him, looked deep into his eyes.  They had only just 

become lovers such a short time ago.  There's still so much I want us to 

share, she thought silently.  This isn't fair.



"Scully?"



"I'm sorry, what did you say?" 



"Come here," Mulder said, pulling her to him.  He wrapped his arms around 

her.  Whatever was going on, she obviously needed some time before she 

was ready to tell him.  That was fine by him.  He knew somewhat about the 

way her mind worked.  When she was ready, she would talk to him.  



Mulder kissed the side of her head, then released her.  Her eyes were 

half open.  He leaned down and kissed her lips gently, then with more 

passion.  He slid his hands over the t-shirt she was wearing, slipping 

his hands under it to find her warm skin.  Scully broke the kiss.  She 

held his body at a safe distance from hers.  "What's wrong?" he asked.



Scully's eyes were darting around the room.  "I...I don't think we 

should..."



"Listen, I know you said that the Pill isn't completely effective for a 

month.  We'll still have to use a condom.  It's fine.  I don't mind," he 

reassured her.



Oh, she thought, oh, Mulder, please don't make me do this.  I don't want 

to make you sick.  The thought of infecting him...made her stomach turn.



"Come on," he was murmuring, his voice soft and husky now.  "Scully, I 

want you.  I need you."  He was kissing her neck.



I need you, too, Mulder, she thought.  I just wish I could explain to you 

how much.



But she closed her eyes and let him remove her clothes.



*****



AN HOUR LATER



"Scully..." he whispered in her ear in the darkness.  "Come on, tell me 

what's wrong."



You don't want to know, she thought.  "Mulder, I can't tell you."



"Why not?"



She shrugged.  



"Come on, Scully, you've been acting strange all afternoon.  It seemed 

like you didn't want to make love.  And then when we did, it was almost 

like you weren't even there.  What's going on?"



Scully lay still in his arms.  She turned so that their faces were inches 

apart.  There was no way that she couldn't tell him.  It was bad enough 

that she had just possibly exposed him to the virus.  I have to tell him 

now, she thought.  She took hold of his face gently with her hands.  She 

could feel her heart thumping wildly in her chest.  



"Mulder," she said softly, "I found out today that I am HIV positive."



Mulder's face went slack.  He knew immediately that this was not 

something that she would joke about.  The look on her face, that deadly 

serious look, told him that she was telling the truth.  "What--" he 

started to say, his voice strangled.



"I don't know how."



"No, Scully, no..." Mulder's eyes instantly filled with tears and he 

sobbed.  



Scully pulled him to her breast and held him, her face still and 

emotionless.  There really was nothing more that could be said.



*****



Scully awoke later in the night to find that Mulder was not in bed.  She 

could hear him rustling around in the kitchen and thought to join him, 

and was then reminded of the events earlier in the evening.  No, she 

thought, I think I should let him have some time to digest this for a 

while.



In the kitchen, Mulder made a sandwich and sat down at the table, eyeing 

the bread and ham he had found in her refrigerator.  He wasn't sure why 

he had made it.  He knew he wasn't going to eat it.



This is a nightmare, he told himself.  There's no way that Scully's going 

to die.



Then a thought ran across his mind, fleetingly.  What if I have it?



The first few times they had made love were careless.  They had been so 

caught up in how much they wanted each other that they hadn't used any 

protection.  Then Scully had insisted that Mulder wear a condom because 

she was worried that she would get pregnant.  Not that she hadn't wanted 

a baby.  They had laughed about it.  "I just would rather get married 

first," she had told him.  "My mother's going to be excited enough to 

find out that we're involved.  I don't want to overwhelm her with the 

news that I'm pregnant as well."



"Yeah," he had smiled.  "One crisis in the Scully house at a time."



And then they made love.  Using a condom.



But not the first time, he thought.  We didn't use one the first time.  

Or the second time. 



He pushed that thought away.  I don't care, he thought.  All that matters 

is Scully. 



He recalled the look on her face as she told him.  She had been 

so...calm.  So unafraid.  



Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet, he thought.



Or maybe she's purposely not dealing with it.  Maybe she's doing what she 

always does with fear.  Maybe she's hiding it away, so she doesn't have 

to deal with it.



Mulder knew how good she was at doing that.



Suddenly, he began to worry about Scully a lot more.



*****



FOUR MONTHS LATER



Scully and Mulder sat in Dr. Adele Morgan's office.  Mulder was fidgeting

nervously, but Scully was unmoving, staring straight ahead.  Adele was

sifting through a thick sheaf of papers that was Scully's medical file. 

"Well," she said finally, pulling the most recent lab results and placing

that piece of paper on the top of the pile, "Dana, your T-cell count has

dropped to 76."



Scully wasn't too shocked.  She had been feeling sick most of the time,

but had tried to hide it from Mulder.  The aches and pains and general

fatigue had slowed her down considerably in the last month or so.  Still

it was bad news.



Mulder let out a gasp of surprise.  Scully remained silent, but her hands

gripped the arm rests tightly.  They both knew what this meant.  "How can

that be?" Mulder asked.  "Six weeks ago it was 150.  And she's been

taking the AZT."



"Mulder, as I explained, AZT has not ever been a guarantee that a person

who is HIV will not go into full blown AIDS," Adele reminded him gently.

"Dana, you understand what this means?"



Scully nodded.  Mulder looked at her.  She seemed to be holding her

breath.



"You have full blown AIDS," Adele confirmed for both of them.



There was a long moment of silence.



"Mulder, your HIV test came back negative."  Scully let out her breath as

Adele finished speaking.  "Of course, you'll have to be tested

periodically over the next few years."  Mulder nodded, feeling the waves

of relief course through him.



I'm not going to die, he thought happily, almost giddy, and turned to

look at Scully.  Her face was white, frozen, more so than usual.  The

relief that overcame him vanished swiftly.  Jesus, he thought, the relief

quickly changing to guilt.  How can I be happy?  What the hell's the

matter with me?



And then, slowly, it hit him.  Scully could have gone on for years being

HIV positive and been perfectly healthy.  But she wasn't going to go on

for years.  She had full blown AIDS.  She was going to die.



Mulder was stabbed with fear.  No, he thought.  I'm not ready to lose

her.  Not yet.



*****



FBI HEADQUARTERS

THREE WEEKS LATER



Assistant Director Skinner watched Scully carefully as she crossed the

room to take the seat across from him desk.  She looks terrible, he

thought.  She obviously had lost weight.  The tailored suits that usually

clung to her every curve, the ones that made her one of the best looking

and best dressed agents in the Bureau, now hung loosely on her body.  Her

hair was brushed back, but it was no longer full and shiny.  And her

face...her eyes were sunken, and even in the dim lighting of the room,

Skinner could see the dark circles under them.  This wasn't just a case

of her not having gotten enough sleep for a few nights, he thought. 

Something is definitely wrong.  She looks, he thought idly, as if she's

dying.



He pushed that thought from his head quickly.



Scully, on the other hand, felt as if she were going to cry.  She could

feel Skinner's eyes on her, looking her over.  She had been doing such a

good job keeping up the front of being brave with her mother and Mulder.

 So why was she having such a hard time now?  Why was she struggling to

hold her tears back now, in front of Skinner?



"You wanted to see me, Agent Scully?"



Scully nodded, then cleared her throat.  "Yes, sir.  There's

something...well, something has developed that I needed to discuss with

you."



Skinner shuffled papers on his desk.  This usually meant that Mulder had

done something stupid.  "Does this have anything to do with Agent

Mulder?"



Scully shook her head.  "No, sir.  It has to do with me."  She bit her

lip as Skinner looked back up at her.  "Sir, I am resigning from the

Bureau.  Effective immediately."



Skinner's face was a mixture of shock, disappointment and anger.  He was

silent for a few moments.  "There had better be a good reason for this,

Agent Scully, because I don't like one of my best agents resigning on

me."



Scully nodded.  Skinner would be the first person to know about her

illness outside of her family, her doctor, and Mulder.  It had taken a

lot of time thinking to come to the conclusion that she had to tell

Skinner the truth.  It had been a hard choice to make.  She felt that he

needed to know the truth, but she didn't want his pity.



She swallowed.  "Sir," she said, her voice small, "I've been diagnosed

with HIV.  I have AIDS."



Skinner fell back in his chair, stunned.  He opened his mouth to speak,

but them unsure of what to say, he closed it. 



"I know that you probably have a lot of questions, sir, but I would

really rather not answer them."  Scully shifted in her chair

uncomfortably.  "I just don't feel that it is appropriate for me to

continue on at the Bureau with my condition."



Skinner nodded silently.  A million things were going through his head.

He didn't care how she got it.  She didn't seem the type to be

promiscuous, but he knew that even an isolated sexual encounter could

lead to this.  God knew he worried about it. 



Skinner knew the stigma that was associated with the disease.  People who

were uneducated about it could be insensitive and hurtful.  He knew right

then that he would not be one of those people.  No, he thought, it didn't

matter to him how she got it. 



Not you, Scully, he thought.  Not you.  Through everything that had

happened, Skinner respected Scully greatly.  And to know that she was

dying made his chest ache.  She didn't deserve this.



Mulder, he thought suddenly.  Oh, this will kill him.  He knew how much

Mulder cared for Scully, even though there were no outward signs of it.

For the past few months, Skinner had suspected that something other than

partnership had been going on between the agents, but had brushed that

thought off.  He didn't think that they would go against Bureau policy.



"I have the paperwork for you," Scully said, putting it on his desk, and

then stood to leave.  She hesitated.  Then she silently removed her gun

from its holster and placed it and her badge on his desk.  Skinner knew

how hard it must be for her.  He knew how much the job meant to her.  She

turned to leave.  She didn't want him to see her cry.



"That's all?" Skinner asked, angry.  "You drop this bomb on me, then

resign, and then just walk out of here?  That's all?"



Scully thought for a moment, then nodded.  "Yes, sir, I believe that's

all.  There's really nothing else for me to say."



They regarded each other for a few moments.  "Scully, you're one of the

best agents I've ever had the privilege of working with," Skinner told

her.  "It will be a great loss to the Bureau."



Skinner thought he saw tears form in Scully's eyes.



"If there's anything I can do--"



Scully cut him off.  "I appreciate that, sir, but it's not necessary.

And," she said, pausing for a moment, "I would appreciate this

conversation being kept between us.  I'm not putting down my illness as

the reason for my resignation on the forms."



"I understand," Skinner said softly.  "As far as I am concerned, you

never told me why you were leaving the Bureau."



"Thank you, sir," Scully answered gratefully.



She turned to leave.  "Scully?" Skinner called, and she turned around to

face him.  He didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound trite.  Good

luck?  See you soon?  "Take care of yourself," he finally said, and she

nodded and left.



Skinner sat at his desk in shock for a few moments.  He was pretty sure

that Mulder likely knew.  Then he looked down at the papers Scully had

given him.  One paragraph caught his eye.  "I understand that with this

resignation I give up all privileges and benefits that are associated

with my position," he read aloud.  Scully had initialed that section, as

she had initaled the other sections that stated that she would give up

her gun and her badge, her security access, her access at Quantico. "She

wouldn't have done that," he said to himself.  Unless she wasn't thinking

straight.



Well, he reminded himself, she's not thinking straight.  She's dying.



Skinner lifted the phone from his desk and dialed a number.  "This is

Skinner," he said after a few moments.  "I'm sending down some

resignation forms on Special Agent Dana Scully. I want you to continue

the health insurance on this agent although she's resigning."  There was

a pause.  "Yes, COBRA, that's what I want you to do.  How long can those

health benefits be extended under that clause?  Eighteen months?  Good."

Skinner listened.  "Bill all the charges for it to my office.  Well, if

you can't do that, then bill the charges to me directly.  And this matter

is to remain classified.  Right."



Skinner hung up the phone, feeling a little better.  But not much.



*****



FIVE WEEKS LATER

FBI HEADQUARTERS



Mulder opened the door to Skinner's office and came in.  "Sit down, Agent

Mulder."



Mulder took the same seat as Scully had three weeks earlier.  Mulder

looked tired.  Skinner could pretty well guess why.  "You've been away

from the office a great deal lately."



Skinner could see Mulder fumbling for a response.   "Well, sir--"



"Look," he said, lowering his voice a notch, and leaning towards Mulder

slightly.  "This conversation is off the record."  Mulder nodded, waiting

for Skinner to continue.  "I know about Scully's condition.  I'm assuming

that you have been spending time with her."



Mulder nodded.  There was no use lying to him.  "She hasn't been doing so

well lately."



"Agent Mulder, I want you to take some time off," Skinner said, shuffling

some papers on his desk.



"Time off?" Mulder asked, then realized what Skinner was saying.  Mulder

took a deep breath.  He didn't know that Skinner could be

this...sensitive.  "Sir?"



"You need to be with Scully right now," Skinner said.  "She needs you."



Mulder felt a lump in his throat.  He pushed it away. "Thank you," he

said, his voice breaking a bit anyhow. 



"Mulder, I wanted you to know...I had Scully's health insurance

continued.  When she resigned, I didn't think...well, I didn't think it

was such a good idea for her to be without it."



Mulder looked at him, shock filling his face.  "We thought that it was

some mistake.  I mean, we were pleased, but we thought there had been

some paperwork snafu."



"No," Skinner responded.  "She wouldn't let me do anything to help her,

and I knew that if she had no health coverage, she would have a hard time

getting the treatment she needs.  And, the Bureau has one of the best

health policies.  She deserves the best care."



Mulder couldn't believe it.  "Scully has no idea..."



"And I would like to keep it that way.  I know she wouldn't want anyone's

help."  Skinner looked at Mulder pointedly.  "Maybe she should just keep

on believing that there was some mistake."



Mulder was silent, looking at his superior for a few moments.  "Sir,

thank you for all your help and support," he finally said.



Skinner nodded.  "It's the least I can do."  He paused.  "How is she

doing?"



"Not great," Mulder admitted.  "She feels like hell."



"You love her," Skinner guessed, his voice even lower.  Mulder locked

eyes with Skinner, his eyes betraying his surprise.  But he didn't nod or

acknowledge what Skinner had said. "Look, Mulder, it's pretty obvious

from where I sit.  And, just in case you were wondering, no rules have

been broken.  She's no longer with the Bureau."



Mulder nodded, grateful.  "Thank you, sir."



"Please, keep me informed of her condition."



"I will."


*****

FOUR WEEKS LATER



"Mulder," Scully wheezed, and he turned in bed, groggy.  It was the

middle of the night.  Well, he thought, looking at the clock, it was very

early in the morning.  He had stayed up late with Scully the night

before.  She hadn't been feeling well.  She was coughing up a storm and

had a fever that warranted a lot of Tylenol.  She had been doing worse

and worse over the last few weeks.  Most days she was too weak to get out

of bed. 



Mulder had moved into her apartment, and Scully's mother had wanted to as

well, but Scully had refused to let her.  She felt that she was burdening

Mulder enough, and there was no need to burden her mother as well. 

Still, her mother came by every day and stayed for a few hours, helping

with medications and the inhalation therapy that was supposed to help the

congestion in Scully's lungs.



"What's wrong?" he asked.  He rolled over completely to look at her, and

realized immediately what was wrong.



She was much sicker than she had been the night before.  Her face was

flushed with fever, she was shaking with chills, her teeth were

clattering, and she was having a very difficult time breathing.  On top

of everything, her eyes were frightened. 



Mulder was surprised.  She hadn't shown much emotion throughout this

entire ordeal, not since day one.



"OK, Scully, take it easy.  It's OK."  Mulder jumped up from his side of

the bed and darted off to her bathroom, dampening a washcloth and

returning to place the cool cloth on her forehead. 



"Mulder," she gasped, "I'm sick."



"I know, Scully," he said soothingly.  He reached over to the bedside

table and popped open the bottle of Tylenol he had bought just days

before.  It was almost empty.  He shook out four of the extra strength

tablets and handed them to her with a glass of water.  Adele had said he

could be liberal with them. "These will help the fever."  He put his arm

around her, held her close to him.  Her breathing was raspy and labored.



Damn it, he thought, why they hell won't she let me take her to the

hospital?  He was terrified every time he had to play nurse like this. 

Her mother spent a good deal of the day performing those duties, and he

always helped, but he was scared when he was alone.  He was scared

something would happen to her and he wouldn't know what to do.



As if she could read his mind, Scully coughed again and said, "Maybe I

should go to the hospital."



Mulder sat up.  "I'll take you," he said, relieved.  "Let me get

dressed."



Scully coughed again, this time harder and longer, holding her chest

weakly, indicating the pain she was feeling.  "Mulder," she gasped, "I

think you should call the paramedics."



*****



GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER

WAITING AREA - EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT

TWO HOURS LATER



"Fox, I don't understand what's taking so long back there," Margaret

Scully said, pacing the hallway. 



"I don't know, either," he answered, leaning up against the wall.  He was

glad that Margaret hadn't been there when the ambulance had shown up.  He

was glad she hadn't seen how small and sick Scully had looked when the

ambulance had loaded her up.  They had put IV's in her, an oxygen mask on

her, listened to her breathing, her heartbeat...and all the while Scully

was just lying there, strapped down to the gurney, her eyes closed.  The

only indication that she was alive was her occasional coughing fit.



Adele Morgan came out, pulling her respiratory particle mask from her

nose and mouth.  "Hi," she greeted Mulder and Margaret wearily.  "I'm

glad you guys called me.  The infectious disease doctors took a look at

Dana's chest x-ray and it looks like she has PCP pneumonia."



Both Mulder and Margaret's shoulders sank dejectedly.  This was not a

good sign.



"She's very sick," Adele went on.  "We're going to admit her to the

intensive care unit."



Intensive care? Mulder thought.  Oh, God, he thought.  He wasn't sure he

could handle that again.  The sight of Scully on the ventilator, her eyes

taped closed those first few days, watching her chest rise and fall

thanks to the mechanical support that was keeping her alive...a quick

glance at Scully's mother told him that she was thinking the same thing

as he was.



"I know that Dana's living will states that she doesn't want any

artificial means of life support, but she doesn't need them quite yet.  I

just think that until we can get some antibiotics in her, she should be

monitored closely.  I talked to her and she agreed to let us treat her."

 Adele looked to the floor, tired, and ran a hand through her hair before

looking up again.  "Come on, you guys can see her before the transfer

upstairs.  She's been asking for both of you."



Mulder and Margaret followed Adele back into the maze of the emergency

room.  It was the middle of the night, and it was relatively quiet in the

emergency room.  There were very few patients there for treatment.  As

they were walking, they all heard a loud yell.  Mulder glanced around.

He wasn't sure where the sound was coming from, but...



It happened again.  "Don't touch me!" they heard.  All three of them

knew.  It was Scully.



Adele hurried to where Scully's cubicle was with Mulder and Margaret. 

Adele pulled the curtains back.  A lab technician was attempting to draw

blood from Scully's left arm.  She was propped up on a cart, a cannula

carrying oxygen to her through her nose, IV lines everywhere, and leads

from an EKG machine monitoring her heart poking out from her hospital

gown.



Everyone was shocked.  It was the first time since her diagnosis that

Scully was showing some emotion.  And she was showing it very clearly.



Scully looked around at her mother, Mulder and her doctor.  Then she

looked back at the lab tech, who was fiddling nervously with specimen

bottles.   Scully's eyes were panic stricken.  Her face was white, and it

was obvious that she was very sick, but it was her emotional state that

was more worrisome.  Mulder knew that look in her eyes.  He had only seen

it a few times before.  She was scared and angry.  Terrified.  Furious.



She spoke to Adele first.  "I don't want my blood drawn *again*," she

said through clenched teeth.



"The doctor wants me to draw some more blood--," the technician tried to

interject meekly.



Scully broke in, turning to Adele before she could respond.  "I don't

want you drawing any more blood from me!  You've done nothing but drawn

blood from me since I got here!"  Her anger was blazing.  "Don't you have

enough already?"



"Scully--" Mulder said, but she cut him off as well.



"I don't want to be here anymore!" she yelled, her voice holding an edge

of terror.  She pulled at the EKG leads and they came unstuck from her

chest.  She flung them to the floor.  Her next move was towards the IV

lines.



"Dana," Adele cautioned her, "don't pull those out."



"Why not?" Scully shouted back.  "So I don't get my infected blood all

over all of you?  So I don't give anyone here AIDS?"



"Oh, Dana, honey," her mother said sadly.  "You know that's not why."



Scully looked at Mulder.  Her outbursts were causing her breathing to be

more labored.  She was now gasping for air.  "Scully, calm down," he said

to her, coming to her side.



Scully was panting now, despite the oxygen.  Her anger was now giving way

to her fear.  "Mulder," she pleaded, "please, get me out of here.  I want

to go home.  I don't want to die here."  And then, she began to cry. 

"Please, take me home."



Her tears held everyone in the room spellbound.  How she had managed to

stay calm up until now, Mulder didn't know.  He hugged her as best he

could, stroking her hair.  He looked over at Margaret.  She nodded at

him.  "We'll take you home, Scully.  It's OK."



*****



FOUR DAYS LATER



Scully was propped up in bed when her mother brought Skinner in to see

her.  Margaret Scully had prepared him for the worst, but he was not

expecting what he saw.  What he saw was Dana Scully, who had once been

vibrant and full of life, lying in her bed, looking as if she were ready

for death.  He made sure that his shock didn't show.  Instead, he glanced

back at Margaret and Mulder in the doorway.  They didn't appear surprised

at all.  They must be used to it by now, he realized. 



Mulder and Margaret took the look to mean that he wanted some privacy

with Scully.  They both left the room.



Skinner shut the door quietly behind them.  Scully watched his reaction

to her carefully.  To his credit, she thought, he was remaining

impassive.  She knew she must look terrible.



"How are you?" he asked, venturing towards the bed.  Scully was wearing

an oxygen mask which she took off and held in her hand.  It had become

her lifeline.  Every time she wanted to talk, she had to take it off so

that her words weren't muffled.  But she always held onto it in case she

needed a few breaths of air.



"Well, I've felt better," she quipped.  Skinner remained standing. 

Scully gestured at the chair next to her bed.  "You can sit down," she

offered.  "You won't catch anything."



Skinner smiled.  Scully was surprised.  She didn't think she could recall

ever seeing him smile. It was, she thought, charming.  "I'm not worried

about catching anything, Scully," he said to her as he sat down.  "I just

don't want to stay too long and wear you out.  I didn't know how you

would feel about having visitors."  Scully nodded.  Skinner glanced

around the room.  On the other side of Scully's bed was a large machine,

whirring.  Plastic tubing connected it to the oxygen mask.  "Are you OK

without that?" he asked, indicating the mask.



Scully nodded again.  "It just makes it easier to breathe.  Sometimes I

feel winded even with the mask."  As if on cue, she held it over her nose

and mouth and took a few deep breaths.  "I'm so lucky," she said, "that

I'm covered for all of this home care."



Skinner shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  She obviously still didn't

know.  Mulder hadn't told her.



Scully saw his uneasiness.  Why would he be uncomfortable at the mention

of her health insurance?  She recalled what Mulder had said to her.  "Who

cares who's paying to keep your coverage?  Let's just be grateful you

still have it."



As she sat there, breathing into her mask, pulling precious oxygen into

her lungs, and watching Skinner as he looked at the floor, the truth

slowly sank in.  Skinner.  Skinner paid for it.



"Sir?" she asked, removing the mask from her face.



"Yes?"



"My health insurance...you...you had it continued?"



Skinner nodded.  "I was responsible for it, yes."



Scully's eyes welled up with tears, but she pushed them back.  "Why?"



"You're sick.  You need health insurance," he answered simply.  As if to

justify his point, Scully coughed.  It went on for at least two minutes.

 Skinner looked to the door, wondering if he should get her mother, when

the hacking coughs subsided.  She took another few gulps of air from the

mask.



Scully reached for one of his hands with her free one, and squeezed it. 

Her eyes were watery.  "Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse.



Skinner turned his hand over to clasp Scully's firmly.  "You're welcome,"

he answered, his voice just as quiet.  "If you need anything, Scully,

anything at all..."  He trailed off, unsure as to what to say next.  "I'm

so sorry you're sick," he murmured, and she nodded.  Scully, exhausted

from the latest coughing spell,placed the mask back over her face.  She

closed her eyes.  She kept a firm grip on Skinner's hand.



*****



TWO WEEKS LATER



Mulder walked into Scully's house to see an unfamiliar face sitting at

the dining room table with Margaret.  She looked up at him as she

entered.  "Fox," she said, indicating the young man sitting at the table

with her, "this is my youngest son, Bill."



Bill Scully was crying.  He wiped his eyes and looked up at Mulder, not

bothering to get up or shake his hand.  Instead, he nodded as

acknowledgment of Mulder's presence.



"My other son is in with Dana," Margaret informed Mulder.  "She asked me

to have them both come here.  She wanted to talk to them."



Mulder understood immediately.  Scully was telling them her goodbyes.

Oh, God, he thought, his heart sinking, not yet.


*****



THE NEXT DAY



Mulder came into Scully's room to find her mother sitting beside her.  At

the sight of him, Scully's eyes lit up.  "Sit down," she said, her voice

somewhat muffled from the oxygen mask.  She couldn't take it off much

anymore.  She couldn't breathe without it.



Mulder sat down on the edge of her bed and held her hand.



"I missed you," she said to him, and he mustered a smile.  It pained him

greatly.  She has nothing left to look forward to in her life, he

thought, except for me.  "I wanted to talk to you."



He squeezed her hand, then glanced over at Margaret.  She had been

crying.  "About what?" Mulder asked.



She took the mask off and held it close by.  "I don't want you to get all

"

upset," she started, then paused to breathe.  "I was thinking, Mulder,

that we should get married."



"Married?" he asked.  He stared at her.  Her eyes pleaded with him.



Please, Mulder, they said.  Please.  I want to be your wife.



"I...don't have a lot of time left," she told him frankly.



Mulder shook his head, but she put her hand over his.



"It's true.  I'm not going to live for much longer.  I want us to be

married."  <Before I die,> Scully almost added, but then cut herself off.

 She paused.  "If...if you still love me.  If you still want me."



Mulder choked back a sob.  "Of course I still...Scully, you know I love

you.   I still want you."



"Mulder, you have to be able to go on after I'm gone."



No, he thought.  I am not ready for this conversation yet.  Not yet,

Scully.



"Scully, nothing matters to me except you.  I'll marry you when ever and

where ever you want.  You just say the word."



He looked at Margaret and she was nodding her approval.



"Mom," Scully asked, "can you call a priest?  Do you think there's

someone who could marry us today?  This afternoon?"



You're not going to die today, Mulder thought, looking out the window.

Not today.  It's gloomy outside.  It's going to rain today.  You're not

going to die yet.  We haven't had enough time.  No, Scully, not today.



"Of course," Margaret said to her daughter, stroking her head, brushing

strands of hair back.  She turned to Mulder.  "Maybe you should go out

and find wedding bands," she suggested.  Mulder nodded.  He leaned over

and took Scully in his arms.  He could feel her arms around him, lightly,

which was as tight as she could reach up to hold him.  She was so weak.

He helped her back down and kissed her forehead.



"I'll be back soon," he promised.  She nodded.



"Let's see if we can find you something nice to wear," he heard Margaret

say to her daughter as he left the room.



*****



"Can I help you?"



The salesman's name was George, according to his nametag.  Mulder was

peering into a case full of rings and looked up.  He was in one of the

most expensive, upscale jewelry storse in Washington.  The kind where he

had to be buzzed into the store.  George seemed like a nice, overbearing

salesman.  He was exactly what was expected in a store like that.



"Yes," Mulder said.  "I'm looking for wedding bands."



"We have a lovely selection of them over here," George said, gesturing a

few cases down.  Mulder followed him.  "You'll want to find something

that will match her engagement ring, I take it?"



Mulder blinked.  Engagement ring.  Shit, he thought.  Damn it, Scully, I

didn't even get to propose to you.  I had always planned on doing that.



"Well," he stuttered after a moment, "she doesn't have an engagement

ring."



"Hmm," George said, pondering this for a moment.  "Well, that's not a

problem.  I'm sure we can find a lovely set of rings for the two of you."

 He lifted a case out of the display for Mulder to examine.  "This set is

very lovely.  Two very simple gold bands.



"I was hoping to find something with diamonds."  I was? Mulder thought.

But for some reason, the gold band, pretty as is was, was not quite what

he wanted to slip on Scully's finger.



"Diamonds are for an anniversary band, usually," George said

definitively.  Then he saw Mulder's face.  "But I'm sure we can find one

that would be lovely as a wedding band," he added.



George, Mulder thought, you're doing fine, but if you use the word

*lovely* one more time, I'm going to kill you.



"That one," Mulder pointed at a ring in the case that caught his eye.

George took it out for closer inspection.



It was perfect.  It was a thin row of diamonds, a complete circle of

them.  Not too gaudy.  It was stunningly beautiful.  Perfect, Mulder

thought.



"That one is lovely," George cooed, and for once, Mulder agreed.  "You

could select a simple gold band for yourself, and it would match

perfectly."



"It's the perfect ring."  Mulder said, repeating his thought.  He

couldn't take his eyes off it.  In a few hours he was going to slip it on

Scully's finger, making her his wife.  He had thought enough in the past

few hours that he couldn't believe it was actually going to happen.

Interestingly, he wasn't in the least bit nervous.  He loved her.  He

wanted her to be his wife.  Inside, he knew that he had always felt that

way.  He didn't want to think about her dying.  Not now.  Not on the day

of his wedding.



"When is the wedding?" Mulder heard George asking.



"This afternoon," Mulder answered.



"Ooh," George clucked.  "You two seem to be in a hurry."



"We have to be," Mulder answered, looking George directly in the eye.

"She's dying."



George's face went slack, and he shut his mouth.



*****



Mulder walked back into Scully's bedroom about two hours later.  He had

stopped at home - not like he had been there very often in the past few

months.  Most of his time was spent at Scully's.  But he had unearthed

his nicest suit from the back of the closet - a simple black one with a

silver and teal tie that Scully had given him.  When he walked into

Scully's room, he stopped.  For a moment, he didn't even hear the

whirring of the oxygen machine.  Scully was sitting up in bed, wearing a

cream colored dress that he didn't know she had owned.  It was obviously

meant to be fitted, but on Scully it was loose.  The bodice was mostly

lace, with a high neck and the skirt flared out into a long cream silk

A-line shape.



She looks so beautiful, he thought.  God, he thought, I love her so much.



Scully was holding her oxygen mask to her face.  She removed it when he

came in, but it remained clutched in her hand.



Margaret had obviously helped Scully with her makeup and her hair.  She

looked, to Mulder, better than he had seen her in months.  If he could

ignore her labored breathing and the oxygen and her weight loss...he

could almost pretend that she was fine.  That everything was fine. 

There's no way she can die, not looking like this, Mulder thought.



"Scully," he whispered as he came to her side, and sat down, "you

look...incredible."



Scully blushed noticeably.  "So do you," she answered.  "Are you

nervous?"



He shook his head.  "I've wanted to do this for a long time.  How about

you?"



"No," she answered.  "I want to make sure we do this...before it's too

late."



A dark cloud fell over Mulder as he heard the ominous tone in her voice.

 "Scully--"



"Look, Mulder, let's not talk about it now," she suggested.



Margaret and the priest walked in at that moment.  "Oh, Fox, you look

lovely," she said, coming up to her future son in law and hugging him.



"She looks incredible," Mulder whispered into her ear as they hugged. 

"Thank you."



Margaret squeezed him tighter, then released him.



"Are we ready to begin?" the priest asked kindly, smiling at Mulder and

Scully.  Margaret had obviously told him the reasons for the hasty

marriage.



Mulder sat next to Scully on the bed and took her hand in his, giving her

a reassuring smile.



"We are gathered here today to join these two people in holy matrimony.

Marriage is a sacred vow, one that should not be entered into lightly,

for it lasts for all eternity."



Scully swallowed down the lump in her throat.  Eternity, she thought.

For her, that was not very long.



"Fox, if you have prepared vows, you may make them to Dana now.



Mulder turned to face her.  93Well, I didn't have anything planned,

but...94  He cleared his throat.  "Scully."  He stopped.  "Dana."  Her

first name on his lips felt wonderful.  Especially since he was saying it

as his wedding vow to her.  "You mean everything to me.  I have loved

you, I think, from the moment I met you.  You taught me to not believe

everything that was thrown in my face.  You were patient with me.  You

always listened to me.  Even when I came up with the most ridiculous

ideas, you always believed in me.  You have been my greatest support and

my best friend.  I love you, now and forever."



Tears dotted Margaret's cheeks.  Scully swallowed again.  The room was

very warm, and she was feeling lightheaded again, as she had before

Mulder had come in.  She took a few inhalations from her mask.



"Dana, you may make your vows to Fox."



"Fox," she said quietly, and shared his smile at her use of his first

name.  "You never wanted me to call you that.  But today, on our wedding

day, I think I want to use it."  Mulder nodded his approval.  "When I met

you I was amazed that someone could take everything at face value.  That

you could believe blindly, without ever having proof to back it up.  You

say that I have taught you to question your beliefs.  And you have taught

me to go with my instincts.  And I don't know why I didn't go with my

instincts sooner when it came to my feelings for you.  But when I finally

did, I realized that you had a great capacity for love.  And you gave all

of yourself to me.  And I love you for that."



There was a moment of beautiful silence as Mulder lifted Scully's hand

and kissed it.  Then the priest went on with the standard vows.  "Do you,

Fox, vow to take Dana as your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor and

cherish, as long as you both shall live?"



"I do."  His answer was strong and firm.



"And do you, Dana, vow to take Fox and your lawfully wedded husband, to

love, honor and cherish, as long as you both shall live?"



"Till death do us part, and beyond," Scully whispered, beginning to cry

softly, "I do."



"You may exchange the rings," the priest told Mulder.  He removed the

gold band from his pocket and handed it to Scully, who slipped it on his

finger, then rested her head on the pillow momentarily.  Mulder then

removed the circle of diamonds from his pocket.  Scully's eyes widened.



"Oh, Mulder," she sighed, "it's beautiful."  Mulder was thrilled to see

that her eyes were shining with happiness as he slipped it on her finger.



"These rings represent the sharing of your love - a full and complete

circle.  The circle has no beginning, and it has no end."  He paused and

watched as Scully nodded her head slightly.  "And now, by the power

vested in me by the District of Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and

wife."  He looked at Mulder.  "And you may kiss the bride."



Mulder leaned down and kissed her on the lips, feeling how warm they

were.  He touched her face.  He kissed her lips more firmly, then her

jaw, the side of her face, and her eyes.  His last kiss was on her

forehead.  "I love you," he told her.  She nodded weakly, but she was

smiling.



*****



LATER THAT EVENING



Mulder helped Scully pull the blankets up over her as her mother checked

the oxygen level on the machine.  Scully was exhausted from the day, and

needed a bit more than normal.  "Mulder," Scully said as soon as she was

comfortable, "I just wanted you to know that when I die, I want you to

continue on at the Bureau."



Mulder looked up at her.  Her face was more pale and drawn than it had

been earlier.  In fact, the circles under her eyes were worse as well. 

She looked more sick that he could ever recall her looking.  But she

looked fine earlier, he thought.  What happened?  "Scully--"



"Mulder, I just want you to know.  I want you to know that I am so glad

that we got married.  I love this ring - it's so incredible.  You've made

today so wonderful.  I didn't think it would be..."



Mulder stood up fully.  "What are you saying?"



"Mulder," she said after a few more gulps of oxygen, "please, come sit

down.  There's a few more things I need for you to know."



Mulder looked over at Margaret.  She was nodding at her daughter, but he

could tell that she was crying.  "Is this the goodbye, Scully?" he asked.



"I think so," she answered.  "I'm so tired, Mulder...I want to go to

sleep."  Her words were loaded with double meaning.



"Damn it!" Mulder exploded, heading for the door.



"Fox!" Margaret called.  "What are you doing?"



"Mulder," Scully pleaded, "please, don't go."



"Damn it, Scully, you and I were just married today!  I love you, more

than I have ever loved anyone or anything in this world!  I can't sit

here and hold your hand as you fall asleep and die!  I can't, do you

understand?   I can't just watch you die, Scully!"  He was crying openly

now, sobbing, and he stumbled to the door and out of the apartment.



*****



Mulder wandered around DC for a while, driving around in his car blindly.

 At stop lights, he would look at his hands on the steering wheel.  The

gold band sparkled on his finger.  She was his wife.  Dana Katherine

Scully Mulder.  Mrs. Fox Mulder.  Dana Mulder.  He couldn't believe it.



And then he would remind himself.



She's back at her apartment.  She's dying.  Imminently.  As in, she would

be dead very, very soon.



Mulder felt a hundred tears fall during that car ride.  He let all of

them fall.  Who cares, he thought.  Who the hell cares?



His cel phone rang.  He fully expected it to be Margaret Scully.  So he

wasn't surprised when he heard her voice.  "Fox, I need you to come back,

right away."  Her voice was terse.



Mulder felt his heart lurch in his chest.  "Oh, God, is she gone?" he

cried, slamming on his brakes to avoid a collision.



"No," Margaret answered, "but she needs you, Fox.  There's not a lot of

time left."



"Margaret--"



"Fox, she's your wife."  Mulder didn't think he had ever heard anger in

Margaret Scully's voice before that moment.  "Come back to her.  Now."



She disconnected the line before he could respond.



*****



Mulder came back to Scully's apartment around midnight.  Her mother was

asleep on the couch in the living room, and he tiptoed past her, so not

to arouse her and her anger.  He slipped into Scully's room as quietly as

possible, not wanting to wake her, but soon saw that she was already

awake.  At least, her eyes were open.



Mulder gave her a sheepish expression.  "Scully, I'm so sorry," he said

quietly.  "I shouldn't have left like that."



"No," she agreed, "you shouldn't have."



He came to her bed and sat down.



"It's our honeymoon night," she said quietly, bitterly.



Mulder's heart ached.  "Scully, I would make love to you right now, if--"



"If I didn't have AIDS," she finished for him.



"No," he told her.  "If you were strong enough.  We had sex before,

protected and unprotected, and it was fine."



Scully's eyes watered.  "You would actually have sex with me?  Now, like

this?"  Scully gestured at her body, limp and weak on the bed.  "Why?"

she asked, incredulous.



"Because I love you," he answered simply.  "Scully, I haven't stopped

loving you just because...you have AIDS.  I haven't stopped wanting you

just because you're sick.  I told you, if you were strong enough, I would

make love to you."  His answer was honest.  There was a long silence.

Finally Mulder spoke.  "I don't think you're going to die yet, Scully."



"Why not?" she asked, her face hauntingly pale.



"You're not weak enough.  I've seen people on their deathbeds, moments,

even hours away from dying.  And I know you.  You're not there yet."



She shook her head, as if to contradict him. "I saw Melissa."



Mulder tilted his head, indicating that she should continue.



"I was having this dream earlier...she came to me in this white light,"

Scully continued softly, looking across the room, her eyes distant and

unfocused, her voice soft.  "She told me not to be afraid."



Mulder touched Scully's hand, the one with her wedding ring, and stroked

it gently.  "I'm not ready for you to go yet, Scully," he confessed.



She looked back at him.  "I know," she said, "but you will be.  When the

time comes, you'll be ready.  So will I."



Mulder shook his head in protest, but Scully shushed him.  "Mulder?" she

asked after a pause.



"Hm?"



"Would you..." she started, "would you make love to me?"



Mulder was startled by her request.  Startled, and saddened.  There were

a million times he had heard her say that and he had willingly obliged

her.  And now...  "Scully, you're in no shape--"  He stopped when he saw

the look on her face.



"Please," she added.  She weakly lifted a hand to stroke his unshaven

cheek.  "Mulder, it's our wedding night."



"Scully, your mom is in the next room."



"She's a heavy sleeper."



There was silence as Mulder pondered the decision for a moment.  "Is this

what you really want, Scully?"



She nodded. "There's still a package of condoms in the bedside drawer,"

she whispered as he stood up.  For a moment she was nervous.  What if the

condom wasn't enough to protect him?



He retrieved one.  Mulder was thinking the same thing.  But, he reminded

himself, it was good enough to protect me before.  And if it wasn't good

enough tonight, well, he thought, I'm not concerned.  She's my wife. 

This is our wedding night.  And I may not have very many more nights with

her.



Mulder turned off all the lights with the exception of the small lamp in

the far corner of the room.  Small as it was, it cast a very faint glow

over the room.  Mulder slipped out of his clothes and under the covers,

helping Scully to turn onto her side.  She was so weak.  So very weak.



Mulder tugged at her nightgown, intending to take it off completely, but

Scully stopped him.  "Please don't," she murmured, her face down towards

her chest, the embarrassment in her voice painfully obvious.



She doesn't want me to see how bad she looks, he thought sadly, realizing

that he hadn't seen her body in a very long time.



He nodded wordlessly and instead pulled it up slightly, reaching his

hands under it to find her breasts.  He used one hand to lift her face so

that she was looking at him.  Her breasts were still there, although they

were smaller, shrunken from the weight loss.  He gently, devastatingly

gently, ran his hands over them, over the shape of them.   He teasingly

brushed his fingertips over her nipples once, and she gasped.  Mulder

silenced her with his mouth, gently descending on hers.  "Your mother,"

he reminded her.



He closed his eyes remembering the feel of her, how she used to feel to

him.  Just being with her like this was intensely arousing to him.  He

could feel how aroused he was.



Oh, God, Scully, I hope you can do this, he thought, knowing that if she

couldn't she would be devastated.



But she was, he realized with a slight shock as he felt her legs twisting

around his.  "Please," she whispered in his ear, although it came out as

more of a rasp.  Her breathing was so ragged.  She needed her oxygen.



"Scully, the mask," he said, but she shook her head as vehemently as

possible.



"It can wait."



He realized how long it had been since they had made love, and he closed

his eyes again, relishing in the smell of her skin, the feel of the pulse

at her throat, up against his lips.  He stayed on his side, not wanting

to hurt her, not wanting to put any physical exertion on her.  He held

her close, on her side.  Mulder slipped between her legs.  He was hard.

She was warm, and her legs trembled.  "Scully," he breathed, "are you

sure?"



She nodded, breathless, from the arousal or from the exertion, he wasn't

sure.  He quickly slipped the condom on and slid into her, in one motion,

just as he was able to in the past.  As he sank deep within her, they

both gasped.



"Mulder," she cried softly at his ear.  She sounded like she was in pain.

 Scared for a moment, he tried to move back, to move out of her, but she

clutched at him desperately, preventing it.



Mulder held her, his arms around her back, holding her close to him.  She

felt so good, oh, God, he thought.  So good.  He could not remember ever

being this aroused with no foreplay and nothing else but the simple

movement into her.  He was moaning softly with her.



Scully arched her back as much as she was able to.  It moved her body

away from him a bit, mere inches, and he felt himself slipping out of

her, and he pulled her closer, moving himself back in, all the way to the

hilt again.  The movement was so small, so subtle.  Yet it would be

enough.  A few more times and Scully was crying out quietly, her face

buried in his neck, and he held onto her tightly as they both came.



Mulder got control of himself quickly.  He looked down at Scully and

kissed her hairline.  "Are you OK?"



She was crying.



"Oh, God!" Mulder gasped, terrified, and scrambled up and off her,

discarding the condom as he did.  "Scully?  Are you all right?"



She nodded.  She grasped the oxygen mask and held it to her face for a

few minutes, breathing in and out slowly.  Finally she spoke to him.

Tears were still in her eyes.  "I'm fine," she finally said.  "I'm crying

because I'm so happy.  I wanted this so much, Mulder...our marriage is

complete.  Oh, Mulder, I love you."



"I love you too," he murmured.  Mulder got back into bed and held her to

his chest, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her chest rise and fall

against him.  He didn't want her to see him cry.



*****


Sometime in the middle of the night Mulder got up and put his jeans back

on.  Scully tugged at his arm.  "Stay with me," she whispered raspily,

her eyes barely open, her voice groggy and thick.  "Please, Mulder, hold

me."



"I wasn't going anywhere," he whispered, kissing her lips lightly and

getting back into bed.  "I was just cold."  She snuggled as close to him

as she was able to.   "We're spending our first night together as Mr. and

Mrs. Mulder."



"Don't call me Mrs. Mulder.  I'm keeping my name," she managed to get

out.



He chuckled.



"Except on the headstone," she added very quietly, so quietly that he

almost didn't hear her.  "Put both names on the headstone.



"Get some sleep," he told her solemnly, and she nodded.



"I love you, Fox Mulder," she murmured, but her voice was clear and

certain.



"I love you too, Dana Mulder," he replied, and she started to protest,

giggling, but coughed instead.  Then they both fell asleep.



*****



Margaret opened the bedroom door sometime after nine in the morning.

Mulder stirred as he heard the door opening.  "Fox!" she exclaimed

quietly, surprised to see him, and even more surprised to see him

bare-chested in bed with her daughter.  Well, she reminded herself, they

*are* married.



Scully was curled into the crook of Mulder's arm, his arm wrapped around

her tiny body, and his fingers dangled over her back.  Margaret couldn't

see her face, but she did see the oxygen mask resting on the bed, not in

her daughter's hand where it usually was.



"Dana needs her oxygen," she said quietly, speaking her thoughts aloud

and Mulder lifted his head, nodding.  He could still hear the whirring of

the oxygen machine beside the bed.  The last thing he remembered was

holding Scully, feeling her warm body moving gently as she breathed.



Her body wasn't warm against his bare chest anymore.



Mulder gasped, sitting up sharply. 



Margaret hurried to his side.  "What?" she asked, then looked down at

Scully.



Scully wasn't breathing.



Mulder lifted her in his arms, so he could hold her, so he could see her

face.  Her eyes were closed.  Her head dropped back loosely.  Her face

was utterly serene.  "Scully?" he asked, already crying.  He knew.



She didn't answer.  He checked for a pulse.  Nothing.



"Oh, God, no!" he cried.



*****



An hour later there was a knock at Scully's door.  Margaret came to

answer it and saw Skinner standing there.  "Mrs. Scully," he said,

greeting her, immediately taking in her swollen eyes.  "What--"



"Dana just died," she answered simply, taking his arm and leading him

into the apartment.  "You have to help me."



Skinner felt his heart lurch.  He closed his eyes briefly, then opened

them again.  He had wanted so much to have been able to say good bye.



Margaret led him into the bedroom, where Mulder was sitting in bed, still

holding Scully's body in his arms.  He was rocking her gently, crooning

to her so softly that his words were unheard by the other people in the

room.  "I can't convince him to let her go," Margaret whispered to

Skinner.  "He won't let me call anyone."



Skinner nodded and stepped forward, hoping that Mulder would listen to

him.  "Mulder," he said quietly, sitting down on the side of the bed,

putting his hand on Mulder's shoulder.  Mulder was staring down at

Scully's body, his eyes dry but red and swollen.  He was holding her,

cradling her, her face close to his.  Skinner noticed the gold band on

his finger.  His eyes flew to Scully's hands, limp, and he saw a band of

diamonds on her finger.  He was surprised, but somehow had expected it.

"Mulder?"



Mulder looked up at him, his eyes blank.  "She's gone," Mulder said

hoarsely, starting to cry again.



"I know," Skinner said softly, finding his voice suddenly choked with

tears of his own.  "You have to let her go."



*****



The church for Dana Scully's funeral was packed.  Besides family and

personal friends, there were colleagues, co-workers, and her students

from Quantico.  Skinner looked out over the crowd he was about to address

and recognized too many faces he knew. They were all filled with sadness.



Mulder and Margaret Scully were sitting in the front row, eyes dry, faced

stony.  Scully's brothers sat next to them, crying quietly.  Skinner

cleared his throat at the podium and began to speak.



"Dana Katherine Scully came to the Federal Bureau of Investigation eight

years ago when she was recruited out of medical school.  I became

acquainted with her when I became her direct superior six years ago."



He could remember her then...still obedient to authority.  Still playing

by the book.  As time had passed and she spent more and more time with

Mulder, Skinner recognized knew that she was more prone to follow

Mulder's lead than not.  It almost made Skinner smile.  She definitely

changed, he thought to himself.



In the front row, Margaret listened to the deep, rumbling voice of Walter

Skinner.  She was glad that she had asked him to speak at the funeral.

His voice was low and soothing, and he had obviously cared a great deal

about her Dana.



"In the six years that she worked under me, Dana grew as an FBI Special

Agent and as a person.  I have never met anyone like her, and I doubt I

ever will.  Dana was intelligent.  She was over qualified in the field of

forensic medicine.  She was determined.  She was brave."



<I think it is about interest, sir, only not yours, and not mine.>  She

had spat those words out so hard that day.  He had seen that she was on

the brink of tears, but that she was sure of her words.  He knew that she

had been right.



<Anger is a luxury you cannot afford,> he had told her.  But now, after

having her life snuffed out too soon, he *was* angry.  He knew that her

death was unfair.  She should have lived longer, he thought, looking at

Mulder briefly.  Married one day, he thought, and a widower the next.  So

unfair.  Skinner paused for a moment longer, his throat tight.



"She fought for what she believed in.  She cared about people, not just

cases, and that was what made her the best agent I have ever had the

privlege of working with.   I know that I will never work with an agent

like her again.  Dana Scully was, without a doubt, a person who cared

just as equally about people as she did about situations, and that was

what made her such an incredible human being.  Her husband," Skinner said

softly, glancing at Mulder's bowed head, "knows that better than anyone.

 He knows what a loving person she was.  And he - and all of us - will

have those memories of her forever."



Skinner stepped down from the podium into dead silence.  He could feel

his hands shaking.  There was no paper that he had been reading from.  He

had not prepared his eulogy.  It had come from his heart.



*****



Mulder looked out the window of the hearse as it pulled into the

cemetery.  Margaret touched his arm.  "Fox?" she asked.  He turned to

her.



"Yes?"



"Are you all right?"



It was funny, but the two of them had done nothing for days but have this

same conversation.



Mulder nodded.  "Holding up," he replied.



They pulled into the area where Scully was to be buried.  Mulder stepped

out of the car first, then helped Margaret out.  He was wearing the same

suit he had worn for his wedding just days before. 



It was a sunny day.  Not too hot, not too cold.  There was a gentle

breeze.  Over 100 people had gathered at the cemetery to watch as Dana

Scully was buried.



As a public servant and government agent, there should have been an

American flag draped over Scully's coffin, Mulder thought.  But there was

not, for legally the flag would only be there for soldiers or high

government officials.  Scully had not been a soldier killed in the line

of duty.  The coffin, polished and dark, was brought out of the hearse

slowly, and the pallbearers, two of whom were Scully's brothers, were

still crying softly.



Mulder and Mrs. Scully came to the gravesite as the coffin was brought

and placed gently on the risers.  Skinner came to Mrs. Scully's side.  He

saw the tears forming in her eyes.  Impulsively, he took her hand and

squeezed it.  She smiled gratefully at him.  A priest, the same priest

who had married Mulder and Scully, was standing at the head of the grave.



"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," he said.  "The Lord is my Shepherd, I

shall not want.  He leads me to green pastures."



A sob was heard somewhere in the crowd of people as he spoke.



"O Lord, we commend the body of this young woman to You for Your eternal

care.  Bless and keep her family and friends and those who loved her

while she was on this earth.  Amen."



There was silence.  They were waiting for anyone to come to the coffin to

say their final goodbyes.  Mulder was frozen in place.  He knew he should

step forward, but he couldn't move.  "I can't," he muttered under his

breath.



Margaret released Skinner's hand and turned to her son in law.  She

hugged him as best she could.  "You can," she whispered.



As everyone watched, Mulder stepped forward to the coffin.  In his arms

he carried four dozen red roses.  He placed them on top of the coffin and

closed his eyes.



Scully, he thought, we didn't have enough time.  I would have bought you

a million roses if I had only had the time.



"We were together in life," he murmured aloud, "but death will not make

me stop loving you, Scully.  Nothing can stop me from loving you.



He stepped away from the grave.



The headstone on the grave read: Dana Katherine Scully Mulder.  Loving

daughter, sister and wife.



No one could see that under his suit, Mulder could feel the cool metal of

Scully's cross around his neck.


*****



Mulder stood in the center of Scully's living room.  The room was quiet.

 He was alone.



In some ways, he couldn't believe that she was really gone.  There still

were no definite answers about how Scully had contracted the HIV virus.

Her previous sexual partners were tested and came back negative.  She had

received a few blood transfusions, but they were all recent, when

screening for HIV was mandatory.



The only thing Mulder could guess was that Scully was somehow infected

when she was missing.  That someone, somehow, had infected her without

her knowledge.



He didn't want to think about it.  Of course, it infuriated him.  But he

was too exhausted by his grief to be angry.



His suit jacket was flung over the side of the couch carelessly.  He had

removed his tie since the funeral and unbuttoned his shirt, and the gold

chain around his neck was visible.



He stepped into the bedroom.



Oh, Scully, he thought.  How could a woman hours away from death manage

to make love to her husband?



He could remember the first time they made love.  That night she had

given herself to him, mind and body.  After waking up from his nightmare

and realizing that she was still there, that it was real, Mulder had

fallen back into a soft and restful sleep, with Scully's arms around him,

her breath on his neck as she curled up against him.  He had one arm

around her, his fingertips just touching the small of her back, as he had

drifted off.  All he could think about was how warm she was...



Mulder also remembered the terrible fight they had earlier that same

evening.  They had assaulted each other with wounding words and had

finally admitted that they cared for each other, and they had kissed for

the first time.  Mulder could still recall the feeling of her lips on his

for the first time, the excitement he had felt, the unbelievable feeling

that it was meant to be.



It was meant to be.  He and Scully had been made for each other.



Mulder walked into the bedroom and surveyed the room.  The bed had been

made.  The room was cleaned up, except for the oxygen machine and the

mask Scully had kept pressed to her face for so many months.  Mulder

picked up the machine, the tubing and the mask and carried it out of the

room.  The company it was being rented from was supposed to pick it up in

the morning.  Mulder opened the door to the apartment and put it in the

hall.  He didn't want to have to look at it anymore.



He went back into the bedroom.



On Scully's dresser was a square polished oak box, about the size of a

cigar box.  He hadn't recalled seeing it before.  Mulder picked it up and

sat down on the edge of the bed.  He took a breath before opening it.



As he removed the lid, dried rose petals fluttered out.  He knew exactly

what they were, and a sharp stab of missing her went through him as he

realized that Scully must have saved them.  The morning after he and

Scully had made love for the first time, he had awoken early, crept out

of the house, and returned with groceries, placing a single red rose on

the pillow next to her as she slept while he made a desperate attempt at

breakfast in the kitchen.



The coffee had been good, and the freshly squeezed orange juice was fine.

 His goal of pancakes and eggs was thwarted by the fact that he couldn't

seem to make one single pancake without burning it.  He instead settled

for waffles that he found buried in the back of his freezer.  He taste

tested one before putting them on the plate.  With butter and syrup, no

one could tell that they had freezer burn just a few minutes before.  He

thought they tasted pretty good, actually.  The omelette he had planned

ended up being scrambled eggs with mushrooms and cheese, but a taste test

revealed that they tasted fine as well.



After an hour, and shaking his head in amazement at the amount of dishes

he had created, he had carried in a tray to Scully, who was still dozing

lightly in his bed.  He stopped for a moment, holding the tray, his

breath gone, as he watched her sleeping form.  One arm was thrown

carelessly across the pillow.  Her hair was tousled from sleep.  She was

a vision.



And she's there, sleeping in my bed, he thought with wonder and joy.



She stirred as he came in, and she first saw the rose next to her.  Then

she turned and saw him, holding a tray with fresh coffee, orange juice,

scrambled eggs and waffles.  "Breakfast in bed," he smiled as he brought

the tray to her. 



She had been stunned and touched, swearing to keep the rose forever.  She

had even eaten every bite of food, telling him repeatedly how wonderful

it tasted.  He had never seen her look more beautiful at the moment when

she lifted the rose to smell its fragrance.



Mulder was now holding in his hands the petals from that rose.



He gently set the petals down on the bed, looking at the other things in

the box.  A pair of pearl earrings he had bought her.  Stubs from a movie

they had gone to.  The cork from a bottle of wine they had drank on one

of their more memorable dinner dates.



At the bottom, a picture of them.



Mulder lifted the photo out of the box carefully and studied it.



It had been taken by Margaret Scully, probably two weeks after they had

gotten involved.  Mulder and Scully were are her mother's house, having

dinner, and after dinner Margaret had insisted on shooting a few pictures

of them.  Mulder recalled that she shot half a roll.  The first few

didn't come out so well, with one or the other of their eyes closed or

red from the flash, but the rest were great.



This particular picture, Mulder remembered, had been taken of the two of

them standing in the hallway.  Mulder had his arm draped loosely and

comfortably around Scully's shoulders.  Scully had her head leaned into

his chest slightly.  She was wearing a simple blue dress.  Her hair was

pulled back into a pony tail, making her look far younger than her years.

 Her eyes were light and sparkling, and she was smiling fully into the

camera, as Mulder was.  Together, they looked unbelievably happy.



She looked so beautiful.



Mulder felt tears springing to his eyes. 



Margaret Scully came into the room quietly.  "I thought I would find you

here," she said gently.  Then she saw the box Mulder held in his hands,

and the contents.  "You know, she called that the Fox Box."



"She did?" Mulder asked, surprised.



"When she was sick," Margaret explained, coming to the side of the bed

and sitting down, "she told me that she wanted to make sure that all of

her memories of her time with you were in one place.  So we got this box.

It was a box her father had given her when she was young.  She used to

use it for gum and candy when she was a child, but as she had gotten

older she could never find a good use for it.  Until she got sick and

remembered it.  I helped her gather all the things she wanted to put in

there."



Mulder looked down at the box sadly.  "I don't have anything of hers.  I

wish I did."



"You have the box," Margaret maintained.



"Those were her memories of me," he protested. 



Margaret shook her head.  "The box was for you - after she was gone. "

Look underneath it," she said.  Mulder carefully turned the box over.

There was an envelope taped to the bottom, with his name written on it in

Scully's handwriting.  "They were her memories of you while she was here,

but she wanted them to be your memories when she was gone."  Margaret

stood up, and squeezed his shoulder before leaving him alone with the

letter.



Mulder ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter. It was in

Scully's handwriting, although the usually perfect writing was a bit

wavery, no doubt because she had been so weak when she wrote it.



Dear Mulder:



Well, here it is.  Our wedding day.  In a few hours we will be joined in

marriage. 



Mulder, there's been so much that I have wanted to tell you.  And

today...today I know that I am not going to see tomorrow, and that's why

it's so important to me that we be married today, and that I write down

all of this to you now, because later I won't have time and tomorrow I

won't be alive to do it.



I love you.  That is the first and foremost thing I have to say.  I think

I have loved you since the very beginning.  That day that you told me you

were the FBI's most unwanted, that day I walked into your office, and

looked around, and thought you were crazy.  Yes, I did think you were

crazy.  But I was intrigued by you that day, intrigued and attracted and

a million other things. 



When you told me about your sister for the first time, as I lay there in

bed and you sat on the floor in that rainstorm, I knew, somehow, for some

reason you trusted me.  Maybe it was because I had rushed into your room

and dropped my robe for you.  I don't know.  But you did trust me enough

to let me in somewhat.  You had opened the door to your soul a crack and

the more time that went by, the further I was able to open that door and

slip in.  That was the moment when I started loving you.



I know when I first knew for sure that I was *in* love with you.  It was

when you were staking out Tooms, and you looked at me with those

sleep-deprived eyes and said, 93If there's an iced tea in that bag, it

could be love.94  Mulder, I can't tell you how upset I was that I had

brought root beer.  I was convinced that you could see that

disappointment in my eyes and hear it in my voice.  But you were too

exhausted to even remember your own name, and so I was able to keep it

hidden.



And that was the course of my life with you for the next few years.  All

I did was hide my feelings for you.   But it didn't work.  The more I

tried to hide how I felt, the stronger those feelings got.  When I was

sick, in the hospital, in the coma, you were there.  I told you that I

had the strength of your beliefs, but I didn't tell you that I had known

how you felt.  I didn't tell you that I knew that you were there, holding

my hand, crying, and that was the strongest motivation I had for coming

back.



When you went in after Modell, I think I wasn't able to hide anything

anymore.  And I didn't care, really.  I knew that my feelings for you

couldn't be hidden anymore.  I thought about losing you and realized that

I would have rather died than face your death.



Mulder, since I have been sick, I have watched you support me and take

care of me, and comfort me.  I know, somehow, that my death is immediate.



 I know that I can't last through one more night.  And I want to spend

that last night with you.  By doing that, I'll be able to hold you, to

touch you, to feel your soul and body against mine.  And I know that you

can have the same.  I want to be able to let you touch me and be a part

of my me one last time.  I know you will need that as your support and

your strength after I am gone.



I have only one request of you after my death.  I want you to take my

necklace, my cross, and wear it.  I want you to keep it because I know

that you will need more faith than ever to continue on with your life. 

It's our faith, remember?  And if it's close to you, my spirit will be

able to be that close as well.



Please, for my sake, don't destroy your life once mine is over.  I would

never want you to do that.  Please remember that.

I will miss you terribly.  And I do love you, Mulder, so much.

Your former partner, current friend and lover, and future wife-to-be,



Dana



Mulder held the letter in his hands and touched the necklace through his

shirt.  How did he know to put it on?  After she had died, he had removed

it and put it around his neck just as he had when she was missing.  It

was almost instinctual, as if he knew he should be wearing it. 



Mulder set down the letter on the bed and unhooked the chain from his

neck.  Then he stood up and reached into his pocket, removing the band of

diamonds he had placed on her finger.  He slid the ring onto the chain

along with the cross and put it back on.  The coolness of the metals

against his skin was comforting.  The fact that she had worn this ring,

that he had put it on her finger...it comforted him.  He couldn't let

them bury her with it.  He wanted to have something of hers that was part

of her, something that had touched her when she was alive, and the cross

for some reason hadn't been the right thing.  The wedding ring was.



And now, on the chain around his neck, he knew he had found the right

place for it.  The chain was long enough for the ring and cross to rest

on his chest just above his breastbone.  Just above his heart.



Just where it should be. 



In my heart, Scully, he thought, tears springing to his eyes again.

You're in my heart always.



END