TITLE: Hour of Need 
AUTHOR: MickiRed 
FEEDBACK: xmickired@yahoo.com.au
SPOILERS: nada! 
CLASSIFICATION: SRA 
DISTRIBUTION: anywhere and everywhere! 
SUMMARY: The death of an old boyfriend has Scully questioning whether the path
she's on is leading her where she wants to go.
  

Hour of Need 
by MickiRed 
  

I was asleep when she called. The cordless phone was lying on the coffee table
only a foot away and scared the hell out of me. As I uttered the perfuctory -
and sleepy - "Mulder" I glanced at the glowing green digits on my watch. Twelve
eighteen. A time of night I was more than familiar with, but I was usually the
one calling, not on the receiving end. 
"Mulder, it's me." 

I pulled myself upright on the couch, aware of the ragged edge of Scully's
tone. Over the years I've mastered the skill of analysing Scully's emotional
wellbeing through her voice - it's the one way in which she's unable to hide
her feelings from me. And now, she sounded on the verge of tears. Sure, brisk
and business like as usual, but strained, as though about to cry. And I knew
Scully only rarely reached that point. 
"What is it?" I didn't dare ask if she was okay; I knew it would be a waste of
time. She always lied. 

She drew a shaky breath. "I know it's late. I didn't mean to wake you... I just
thought I'd warn you that I won't get to  work until some time tomorrow
afternoon. I have to go to a funeral." 

"Whose?" 

Again, the shaky breath. "Just a guy I used to go out with... Ethan. Ethan
Minette." 

Ethan Minette. That name stirred a lot of memories. I'd met him once, very
briefly, on our first case. I hadn't paid much attention, pegging my new
partnership as lasting only the one case. It was only later on, months after
they'd broken up and I was starting to realise how important my partner was to
me, that I began to wonder a little. She'd gone on a date early on, but, as far
as I knew, that was it. When she'd joined the x-files she'd unwittingly thrown
away ordinary life and everything that went with it. Including dating.
But Ethan Minette symbolised that ordinary life. I wondered if they'd lived
together. I couldn't imagine Scully lying naked in anybody's arms. Anybody
other than myself, that is. And I stress the word 'imagine'. 

"I'm sorry..." My God, that felt pitifully inept. "Listen, Scully, I could take
the morning off and go with you, if you want..." 

"You didn't even know him."  

She was right; I didn't know him. But I was jealous of him nonetheless. I felt
territorial. I felt jealous because she was mourning for somebody who had been
important in her life. Somehow, I saw him as competition for Scully's
affections. "Yeah," I admitted. "I just thought you might want some support." 

She was silent for so long that I prompted, concerned, "Scully?" 

Sigh. "No, thanks. I'll be okay, you know." Swallow. "I'll see you tomorrow,
Mulder." 

I exhaled heavily. I hated being away from her when I knew she was suffering. 
"I'll miss you." I spoke in a baby voice, knowing that way she wouldn't take it
as a serious confession. Even though it was one.  

"Just don't abuse the ceiling." There was a smile in her voice. "Goodnight,
Mulder." 
Click.  

I tossed the phone down on the coffee table again and tried to settle back down
on the couch. But it was a lost cause. I picked up the TV remote and flicked it
on, but my thoughts were miles away from the TV set. In Scully's apartment, to
be exact. I wished I could draw her close to me and hug her, but knew that she
wouldn't let me. Her pride would hold her back. She'd be too scared to let the
dam wall crack.  

I had a restless night. 

- ------------------------------------------------------------------- 

She wasn't going to turn up. I figured that out after almost three hours of
waiting. More frightening, her cel phone was turned off.  I couldn't imagine
why she would do that. It was like a lifeline connecting us. Maybe she just
switched it off for the funeral, I reasoned with myself. Maybe she forgot to
switch it back on again. Maybe she's still at the wake. It would have been an
extraordinarily long wake. 

It was going on five-thirty when I accepted that she wasn't going to turn up at
work. I'd barely gotten anything done all day. I'd just waited. 

Her apartment door was locked and there was no light spilling out from under
the door, no noise from within. I don't know why I opted to let myself in
rather than knock, butI fished out my set of keys and turned one in the lock,
easing the door open. 

All the curtains were drawn and the room was dark other than the glow from the
TV. She was lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, hugging a pillow as she
stared at the glowing screen.  
"Scully?" She hadn't noticed my presence and I was gentle, not wanting to scare
her. But she didn't seem surprised and only turned her head slowly, making no
attempt to put any walls up. 

"Hi," she whispered.  

I hadn't ever seen her so resigned to her vulnerability. Her hair was mussed,
her black skirt and jacket combination was crumpled, and tears stained her
cheeks. She made no attempt to brush away the tears or smooth her hair. No
attempt to hide anything. She just sat there. 

I moved closer, careful not to step on the discarded black heels.  "I was
waiting for you at work," I began hesitantly. 

She looked more spaced out than ever. "Sorry, I ...uh, I forgot." 

The shakiness toldme straight away not to push the point. 

I nodded and she turned her attention back to the TV, hugging the pillow
against her chest. The blanket had slipped off her shoulders and I moved closer
yet, easing it back up, tucking it around her. She glanced up at me in a brief,
sad smile of thanks, then her eyes were back on the TV. Then, looking at the
screen, I saw why. 

People were crowding around what looked like a backyard picnic table. The
wavering focus and shakiness told me that it was a home-made video, but I'd
already gathered that from the familiar faces. Scully's Mom and Dad, Melissa,
Bill with his wife. Some other adults and some little kids I guessed were
nieces and nephews. And Dana.  
I called her that in my mind unintentionally. Somehow whenever I saw her with
her family, saw her as a daughter and sister, I couldn't think of her as
Scully. I could call her that, but in my mind she was Dana. And this was
definately Dana. The date in the corner of the screen read 6 - 13 - 92 and the
Dana I saw seemed far younger than the one I'd met in my office that first
fateful day. Her hair had a natural bounce to it and was longer than I'd ever
seen it. Her freckled face was lit up, her eyes shining brightly. My eyes were
drawn to her hands as she twisted a ring on one finger. I'd never seen her
wearing a ring, unless you counted that case in Florida. This was completely
different. That didn't really count, despite the elaborate play-ceremony I'd
insisted on to slip the borrowed ring on her finger.  
My eyes, still on the ring, saw the second pair of hands that slipped over
hers, clasping affectionately. I saw her smile as he kissed her on the cheek.
Ethan Minette. 
I felt quiet jealousy as I watched him murmuring to her. The video was muted,
but I saw what I knew was a giggle, even though I'd only rarely seen one
myself. Then, suddenly, the video cut to another scene. Scully's dad at the
barbeque, her mom counting the steaks. They waved to the camera, her dad saying
something. The video cut again to Bill Scully with the bunch of kids and a
home-made go-cart, then to Melissa with a tall, dark-haired man. She was
gesturing about something, maybe telling a joke, and they were both laughing.
Then, finally, it cut back to Dana. She and Ethan were around the corner of the
house, under a vine-covered archway, hidden from view from the others. Small
blossoms were scattered through their hair but, lips locked, they were too busy
to notice. I was simultaneously disturbed and aroused as I watched her, wishing
that it was me she had her arms wrapped around, me who she was kissing so
tenderly, so teasing and playful. Playful, and, yet, passionate. I wondered
whether they'd slept together. They must have, I reasoned, and the idea
depressed me.  
Dana pulled out of the kiss, suddenly aware of the cameraman's presence,
flushed and gesturing for him to leave. She looked adorably embarrassed. It was
only when she pulled out of Ethan's arms entirely and approached the camera
menancingly that it cut again. Video of the whole family around picnic tables
on the back porch again, but now it was dark. Orange lanterns hung along the
length of the porch. The table was covered with scattered crumbs from dinner
and people were swatting lazily at flies. Slowly panning around, the camera
once again settled on Dana and Ethan. They were curled up together, her in his
lap. He had her hands in his and was kissing her fingertips. Her eyes were
closed, her lips set in a sleepy smile. The combined jealousy and need to hold
her in my arms like that at that very moment was excruciating. I kneeled down
beside the couch, wincing at the wistful, glazed look in her eyes. I'd never
seen her this despondent. I'd never seen such utter proof of how miserable she
was in our partnership. 

"That's him?" I knew it was, of course, but I could think of no other way to
open conversation. 

She nodded, not drawing her eyes away. "We broke off... just after I joined the
x-files. After we got back from our first case, actually..."  

I glanced back at the TV. Dana had roused herself and they were all singing as
a birthday cake was brought out, covered in candles. Her mom blew out the
candles, smiling. Dana's eyes were sparkling. 

"Scully, can you look at me?" I felt I somehow needed to break the spell of the
video. I knew nostalgia could be a dangerously powerful thing. 

"I'm okay, Mulder." Finally, she turned to look at me. She seemed more with it,
her eyes sad. "I just saw him today and it brought back a lot of memories..." 

"How long did you two date?" 

She looked thoughtful. "We dated for over a year... but we were friends, before
that. It was very... comfortable." 

My gaze fell to her hands, the motion attracting my attention. She was twisting
a ring on her left hand. Curious, I took her hand in mine, examining the ring
on the index finger. 

"It's a friendship ring," she murmured, as though reading my thoughts. "He gave
it to me on my birthday. I found it when I got home... it was in the drawer
where I put it after we broke up. I haven't worn it since then." 

I resisted the urge to slide it off and toss it away, to draw her thoughts away
from her past. But instead, I squeezed her hand between my own and then
released it, letting it drop back into her lap.  "How did he die?" 

"He was mountain climbing. He fell. He was into ... those things. We used to
rockclimb on weekends." She sighed, shifting a little. "I thought I could deal
with the funeral, you know? But it was hard... harder than I'd expected. His
wife was there... his kids. He had two, and another on the way. I just looked
at his wife - I imagined myself as her. I thought how differently things could
have turned out if we hadn't broken it off." 

"Why did you break it off?" 

She bit her lip. "We fought... about the x-files. He didn't like me being
assigned to work with you. Ethan was always so competitive... he got angry that
I wasn't being ambitious  enough, that I decided to work with you and trust you
and not run back to Blevins and insist on an assignment which would forward my
career." 

"You chose the x-files over him?" 

She chuckled sadly. "I guess that's what it boils down to. But we'd reached
that point, anyway. We weren't going in the same direction any more, you know?"


"But you loved him."  

"Yeah, I did," she admitted softly. "A lot." 

"We both know how hard it is, losing somebody you love." I inched closer to
her, reaching up to brush her cheek with my fingertips. She smiled unhappily at
my touch. 

"It's not just that. It's... He symbolised a normal life for me. If I'd stayed
with him then I would have been the one with a husband and kids and neighbours
and a dog." 

"Is that what you want?" I had to ask. 

She looked down at me, tears filling her eyes. "I thought so," she admitted.
"Tonight, just watching the video... I felt so close to him. I could even smell
his cologne. And I felt for certain that I should have chosen that path,
because I could have had so much. So much happiness, so much laughter, so much
life... Light instead of darkness. I felt sure that I was wrong in the choice I
made and I just didn't know what to do. I felt lost..." The tears were flowing
again, the words choked and coming out between sobs. I climbed up onto the
couch, pulling her against me. Her warm, wet tears soaked the front of my shirt
as she sobbed silently. 

"It's my fault, Scully." I felt an ache in my chest that hurt so much I almost
couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry that I've caused you all this suffering, that I've
taken away a life you deserved to -" 

Her finger on my lips stopped me. She was shaking her head, tears still
dripping down her cheeks. "Mulder, no. Mulder..." She sighed shakily. "I didn't
finish." 

I felt sure I knew what was coming. "Scully, I don't want you to -" 

Again, the finger on my lips. "Mulder, I felt I knew for certain that I'd made
the wrong choice. I did feel lost. But then you came... You came here tonight,
and I felt found." She drew a very shaky breath. "Mulder, if I'd chosen that
path, maybe I would have been happier. But my relationship with Ethan - any
relationship I could have had - can't hold a candle to our partnership. To our
friendship. Mulder, I loved Ethan - I loved him as a lover, as a friend... but
I love you more. More than I can really express." 

My heart didn't just leap, it soared. I'd told her I loved her before, and
known that she loved me; it was plain from her actions, from her jealousy and
territorialism and tenderness and the simple fact that she was still by my side
after everything. But that was the first time I'd heard it from her lips. I
wanted to kiss her, to make love to her, but I knew I couldn't. I couldn't do
anything to scare her.  
I bent over and gently kissed her cheek, my fingers lingering, caressing. "I
love you too, precious." 

She looked at me shakily, her skin tinged almost blue in the glow from the TV.
The video had ended and was playing blank tape. I slid out from under her and
switched off the TV and stopped the VCR, switching on a lamp. Where did we go
from here, I wondered. Already, the atmosphere seemed anti-climatic. 
She was standing, still hugging the rug around her like a security blanket. She
yawned, and I glanced down at my watch. It was only ten past six. 

"You look tired." I felt the distance between us as we stood apart. Had she
really said those words? 

She nodded. "I didn't get much sleep last night," she admitted softly. "None,
actually." 

I stared at her, trying to figure out what to do next. "I could leave, if you
want to go to bed now..." 

But she shook her head. "I'll be okay for a while longer." She paused before
asking, "Do you want to stay for dinner? I'm just going to make pasta or
something..." 

I didn't consider turning down the offer for a second. "I'll help." 
  

It was a pre-packaged mix but bearable. We sat on the couch, side by side. The
TV was on, some b-rated sitcom on cable. We weren't watching, we just didn't
want the silence.  She wasn't talking much but I felt comfortable. We've grown
accustomed to each other's silences, respecting that we both need space
occasionally, both need some quiet time. She'd changed out of the rumpled suit
from before into some pants and a tight-fitting sweater. Still black. 
After dinner she switched off the TV and started discussing our current case. I
knew what she was doing but I didn't want her to bring work into such a
personal time. She'd done it in the past but this was different. This was her
past. This was a different Dana, and this Dana wasn't the one I worked with
every day. This Dana was a daughter, friend and lover. I didn't know when the
transition back into doctor and FBI agent would take place; I knew it would
eventually, but I was content to stay until it did, until she was no longer
vulnerable. 
"Let's not talk about the case," I said gently, pulling the case file from her
hands. 

"I want to, Mulder," she protested. 

"Let's talk about something else." 

She shot me a tired, knowing glance. "I don't want to talk about Ethan, Mulder.
I don't feel that I can cope with thinking about him any more. I'm tired of
feeling unhappy. I hate it." 

"I know," I soothed. More than anything, I knew how much she hated being
unhappy. How much I hated being unhappy, hated her being unhappy. 
"Why don't you go to bed?" I suggested gently. "I'll tell you a bedtime story."


"A bedtime story?" she echoed, the smallest of skeptical smiles appearing. 

"Yeah, a bedtime story. About a dashing knight - that's me - and fair princess
- - that's you." I grinned at her and she laughed, but then her face crumpled 
and
she drew her breath sharply in a sob, one hand flying to her mouth while she
pulled at her hair with the other. 

"I... I didn't mean to laugh." She fought back the tears, finally succeeding
and drawing deep breaths. 

"You're allowed to laugh, Scully. Life goes on." 

She nodded, her breathing calming a little. "I know that."  
Pushing away from me, she stood. "I'm going to bed. I've had a long day." 

"Do I still get to tell you a bedtime story?" I asked in the baby voice. 

She half-smiled. "Yeah, you do." 
  

Half an hour later she was asleep, her fingers wrapped around mine, preventing
me from leaving her. I wouldn't have anyway. I sat on the edge of the bed,
staring at her as she slept. With my free hand I pulled open the top drawer
beside the bed. Sitting in the front left corner was a little jewellry box. I
flicked it open, reading the inscription on the lid once again: 'Happy Birthday
Dana. Love, Ethan.' I ran my eyes over the small ring one last time before
shutting the box again with a snap and sliding the drawer shut as Scully had
only five minutes earlier. The healing process had only just begun, but I knew
the worst had passed. I also knew that this ordeal had strengthened our
relationship even more.  
I eased my hand from her grip and stood, reaching to switch off the bedside
lamp. Shoes long since discarded, I shed my jacket and tie and, after a
moment's hesitation, pants as well. My shirt topped the pile and, dressed in
only my boxers, undershirt and socks, I slid into the bed beside her. She
stirred as I slipped my arms around her. "Mulder?" she murmured sleepily. 

"Yeah, it's me." 

She snuggled down against me, yawning. "God, your legs are hairy," she
murmured. I laughed softly as she added, "But I can live with it, I guess." 

I'd been expecting her to kick me out at any second and was completely shocked
that she was accepting my presence in her bed so well. But I wasn't going to
complain. I wasn't tired but I lay there, stroking her hair. I felt content.
Although she hadn't spoken the words, I knew tonight was a night Scully needed
to be held. What the repercussions would be I wasn't certain, but I knew we
would both cope.  
"You wanna get married, Scully?" I murmured, slipping my fingers under the hem
of her pajama shirt and rubbing her flat stomach gently. I was answered only
with quiet, even breaths as she slept.  

Maybe one day I'd find the guts to ask her when she would actually hear me. 


fin.

=====