Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, the X-Files, and associated
characters are property of David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Chris Carter,
Ten-Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting Corporation.  They are used
without permission and no copyright infringement is meant.

Any elements not recognized as being taken from the show copyright
Christina Shuy. 

Many thanks to J. Ackerson (takakin0@slip.net) for her assistance in 
suggesting a title as well as how to proceed when I got stuck.

Comments and other things sent to cshuy@netcom.com are much appreciated. 

Category:  Angst with MSR at the end, rated PG for language.
Summary:   In the wake of "Elegy", Mulder and Scully face their feelings.
Spoilers:  Up through "Elegy".  This has nothing to do with anything else 
I've written, though.


Watching Death Approach
by Christina Shuy
cshuy@netcom.com

	When Scully walked away from me, I was speechless.  I didn't know 
what to say to her.  I could tell she was in pain, but I was at a loss 
for words.

	What I did know, though, was she was not telling me the truth.
"The doctors said I was fine."  Maybe it *was* what the doctors
had told her, but *she* was most definitely NOT -fine-.

	That's what she always tells me when I ask her how she is.  "I'm 
fine, Mulder" seems to be code for 'Go away and leave me alone'.  But 
therein lies the problem.  I am sick of hearing *that*.

	Well, this time I called her on it.  "I hope that is the truth." 

	What I said only seemed to make her angry.  The only words out 
of her mouth were "I'm going home".  It seemed to me she was telling me 
to leave her alone.

	I can't leave her alone.  And I know she doesn't *want* me to 
leave her alone.  I don't know how I know, but I do.

	I want to tell her she is very important to me.  That what I feel
for her is more than fraternal, more than friendship, more than... well,
more than I can say right now. The problem is that there never seems to be
the right time.  She is hurting and I want to go and tell her.  But, 
somehow, that seems selfish of me.

	Unfortunately, she and I spent the last few minutes sniping at
each other.  I shouldn't have, but I didn't know what else to say.  But I
did manage to tell her the truth.

	"I know what you're afraid of.  I'm afraid of the same thing."

	But she seemed to brush me off.  She said she wanted to go home. 

				*

	"I know what you're afraid of.  I'm afraid of the same thing."

	Mulder's words echo in my mind.  I don't know what to think. Or
feel.  Well, maybe I do. 

	No, Mulder, you don't know what I'm afraid of.  I'm not afraid of
dying.  I came to terms with my fear of dying when I was in the hospital
in Allentown.  

	I'm afraid of losing you.  You see, what you *don't* know is that
there is a great deal I feel for you.  Not as just a friend or as a
brother... but as so much more. 

	I didn't realize this until I was speaking to Karen Kosseff a few days 
ago, but my feelings for you run deeper than just friendship.

	I love the passion and zeal with which you pursue whatever you've
put your mind to... the relentless pursuit of the truth, which has become
*my* search for the truth as well. 

	Thanks to the bastards who killed my sister in my place.  Thanks
to the three months of which I have no memory.  The same missing three
months which have caused my cancer.  Maybe.

	I don't know anymore.

				*

	She's in pain.  I can tell.  I can feel it.  I can see it.  She
is... oh, HELL.  It's my fault.  I should apologise...  I've been such an 
ass to her lately.

	I'm going after her.

				*

	Who was that I saw in the mirror?  Why am I seeing dead people? 
Everyone who has claimed to see dead people have ended up dead.  Why is
this happening to me?  I don't want to die!  I want to live... 

	I want to find those bastards that kidnapped me and killed my
sister.  I want to bring them to justice.  I want to let the most
important person in my life know how I feel, rather than lying by saying, 
"I'm fine."

	Has it come to this?  Am I just going to sit here and...  Dammit. 
I don't want to cry.  I don't want to... 



	Emerging from the building, Mulder could see the car with Scully
inside, just sitting there. 

	No, Mulder realised.  Not 'just sitting there'.

	Scully was crying.  Having been so wrapped up in his own problems,
he couldn't remember the last time he saw her cry but seeing it made his
heart ache.  Her face in her hands and sobs shaking her body. 

	Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the window.

	"Scully?"

	Scully jolted.  Hurriedly, she wiped her eyes.

	"Mulder... what...?"

	"I want to talk to you.  I need to talk to you."  The look in 
Mulder's eyes reflected concern, and something more Scully had yet to put 
a finger on.  At the moment, however, she didn't really care.

	Scully reached over for the auto-doorlock, and clicked it to the
unlock position.

	"What do you want?"

	"Not here.  Are you able to drive?"

	"I'm not an invalid, Mulder!"

	"That's not what I meant.  You're sitting in the driver's seat. 
You've been crying. I wanted to know if you wanted to drive... to my
place, since it's closer than yours right now.  If you don't want to 
drive, we could sit here and talk..."  His voice trailed off as he wasn't 
sure what to say next.

	Scully started the car.

				*

	The drive to Mulder's apartment was silent.  Neither looked at the
other until the door in his apartment was locked.  They settled
on Mulder's couch before either said anything. 

	"So, Mulder, what did you want to talk to me about?"

	"Scully, I..."

	He stopped and looked into her eyes.  There was so much he wanted
to say to her, but he couldn't find the right words, so he merely *looked*
at her.  Scully's eyes widened.  Everything Mulder felt - the pain, fear,
frustration, and, most of all, love - could be seen. 

	"Mulder... I..."

	"Scully... I'm sorry about how I acted this evening.  Really." 

	"I know, Mulder..."

	"Scully..."

	"Mulder, it has taken me a long time to realise that I love you. 
Not just as a friend and work partner, but also as a life partner.  You
are very important to me.  You are only person I trust, aside from my
mother.  Someone I could most certainly see myself growing old with.  If
only-" 

	 "If only there wasn't this cancer, right, Scully?  Well, you know
who you can blame that particular situation on.  That, and your sister
getting killed, and your abduction-" 

	"We're still going after Cancerman, aren't we?  After all, he IS
the one at fault here.  I don't want to give up until we nail that bastard
to the wall for what he has done.  To both of us." 

	"I was talking about *me*, Scully...  I love you and I'm sorry for
everything that has happened to you.  All of the things that have happened
to you have been my fault.  Maybe you should ask for a transfer."

	"Nope.  Not on your life, Mulder."

	"It would be for the best.  After all, being away from each other 
would be better for both of us."

	"Well... it would make things easier for us to be together off
duty." Scully mused, a smile at the corner of her lips.

	Mulder went on as though he hadn't heard her. "I just want you to
know that I love you and..."  What she said suddenly cut through his
self-recriminations.  "Would you even *want* to be with me after work,
even with all the things I have put you through.  You *and* your family. 
Your sister is dead because of me and the X-Files." 

	Scully didn't say anything right away.  She raised an impatient 
eyebrow.

	"Mulder, if I wanted to leave the X-Files, I would have, a long
time ago.  But I haven't, I don't want to, and I won't, so don't even
think about filing a transfer for me.  I knew this was a dangerous job
when I joined the FBI.  I'm not afraid of dying.  I came to terms with
my cancer in Allentown.  What I am afraid of is losing you." 

	Mulder sat there, transfixed and speechless.

	"And, if you don't mind me saying so, Mulder, you are being
incredibly selfish.  The X-Files is not just *your* work.  It's mine too,
and I have participated in the investigations of my own free will.  Even
the ones after the X-Files had been shut down.  You asked for my help
then, and if I had not wanted to help, I wouldn't have."  She looked at
him then.  "Mulder, close your mouth before something flies into it." 

	Realising how he must look, he closed his mouth.  Scully moved
towards him and he wrapped his arms around her when she got close 
enough.  She wrapped her arms around him, content.

	"You know, this isn't the first time I've seen the newly-dead." 
she murmured into his chest.

	"Really?"

	"Just after my father died, I saw him sitting in my living room. 
He was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear him.  It scared me
then, but I thought it had just been a figment of my imagination. 

	"I will admit that seeing the fourth victim scared me because I
didn't know if I was going out of my mind or perhaps I *am* dying, and the
only reason that scared me was because I hadn't told you before..." 

	"Scully, I would have been worried about you had you *not* been
afraid after seeing the fourth victim of that crazy nurse.  It would have
scared the shit out of me had I been in your place.  However, the fact 
that you saw your father just after he died makes me feel better.  Have 
you ever considered that maybe you're *not* dying after all in that case?"

	Scully moved so that she was no longer leaning on him, but his arms 
were still around her.  Reestablishing eye contact, she saw and felt the 
emotions from him.  The trust, the respect, and, most of all, love.  

	She felt the situation reverse itself from when Eddie van Blundht 
had attempted to impersonate Mulder.  This time she *knew* it was 
Mulder that was with her.  Leaning closer, she noted that Mulder didn't 
pull away as her lips met his.  Indeed, his arms tightened around her 
and he was kissing back.

	"Thank you, Mulder." she said, after the kiss ended.

	"You're welcome, Scully... though I'm not *quite* sure what 
you're thanking me for."

	"Mulder..."

	"Would you like to spend the night here tonight?  I promise to be 
a gentleman."

	Scully laughed softly.  "Just be yourself, Mulder.  And there is 
nothing I would want more than to spend the night in your arms.  However, 
I don't think your couch can fit both of us."

	"That's ok."  Mulder stood up, then swept Scully into his arms.  
"We'll use my bedroom instead.  The bed's comfortable enough."

	Scully raised an eyebrow.  "Why, Agent Mulder, I didn't know you 
*had* a bedroom."  She grinned at him. "Or a bed."

	"Sure, I do.  I just don't use it that often..." 

	As they got settled in his rarely used bed, Scully knew that they 
had gotten through yet another obstacle, and both were going to be fine.  
Even while watching death approach, they still had each other.

-The End.-