"Tonight" by Marie Endres 
joemimi@prodigy.net

Classification: MS Angst; MSR
Rating: G
Spoilers: "Rush"
Summary: Post-Ep for "Rush"
Scully believes it may be all over 
before it even began thanks to four 
little words from Mulder.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully 
aren't mine. They belong to Chris 
Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox 
Broadcasting. Also this piece is 
not intended as advertising for 
Binney & Smith, either. You'll 
figure that one out later.
Thank you's forever to Jill Selby-
for being my first reader and for 
your encouragement. Also thank you 
to Georgia for the being the best 
beta reader ever!


Tonight, I put my words to paper- 
to still them, to steel myself. I 
long for grounding, for my usual 
ability to make sense of "the 
facts," facts which I truly do not 
wish to see. My calling seems to be 
to debunk, to find the loopholes. 
Tonight, however, I would give 
anything to shirk my 
responsibilities.



From the moment I met you, I have 
been the one to point out what 
seems to be readily apparent, the 
answer which seems to be staring us 
down. You have been the one with 
magic in your reply, the one to 
hope for extreme possibilities. 
Today, we changed hands, and I am 
crushed. I have seen much, faced 
much, in the past six years with 
you and never have I felt defeat as 
I do now, for now I do not have the 
strength of your belief.



Your words today were sparse, no 
long diatribe of feeling and 
emotion to cut through my heart. 
There were just four of them, only 
one was more than one syllable in 
length. You would think that after 
life and death struggles, threats 
of global annihilation, cancer, 
four little words tumbling from 
your lips would be inconsequential. 
Yet the consequences were readily 
apparent to me, and with that 
realization, my hope came 
fluttering down like so many pieces 
of confetti in Times Square on New 
Years.



That image coming to my mind brings 
back so many others- other moments 
when completion and joy seemed 
within our grasp; when you found a 
way to make me stay when all I 
wanted to do was flee and quit, 
when I didn't know what to believe 
anymore and you convinced me to 
believe in the truth that was right 
in front of us, each time you made 
the difference in my journey. It 
was a journey that brought us to 
the closing of a century when 
everything seemed possible after 
you ever so gently touched your 
lips to mine.



Could you blame me, therefor, when 
today I became a little anxious to 
see where this new path would lead 
us, why I became a little impatient 
with our "slow pokin'" around? I 
still cannot believe I actually put 
into spoken words my frustration, 
that is not part of the carefully 
constructed me who the world sees. 
You have always seen a part of me, 
though, that no one else has. I 
know in my mind that your reply was 
based on the case at hand, but my 
heart heard otherwise. My face 
registered what was stirred in my 
depths, churned by the slam of your 
response: "Maybe we're too old."





A soft knock followed by the words, 
"Scully, are you awake?" caused me 
to drop my pen in mid-punctuation. 
I could not, would not, let him 
find these words as he had others. 
These were too painful, too 
pathetic. I quickly shoved the 
yellow legal pad under the bed as I 
answered, "Yes, hang on."



I walked slowly to the door of our 
adjoining room, wondering what 
would bring Mulder to my side of it 
at this late hour. As the door 
swung open, he quickly moved past 
me.



"Mulder, you look pale. You don't 
think you could be experiencing 
some aftereffect of being in that 
cave today, do you?" I asked 
searching for some reason for his 
late night visit. His eyes were 
looking about for something, 
probably a place to sit, when I 
noticed a small bag from the hotel 
gift shop in his hand.



"Scully, I brought you something," 
he quietly said as he offered me 
the bag. I took it and then sat 
down on the bed, the only available 
place. He sat down on the floor 
next to it, watching me intently. I 
looked in the bag , first, before 
reaching for its contents. There, 
nestled in the pink paper bag, was 
a familiar yellow and green box.



"Crayola crayons, Mulder?" I said 
incredulously as I held them in 
front of me for both our perusals. 
I could feel my eyebrow beginning 
to rise.



"Yeah, a study was done in which 
people were asked to remember the 
most familiar scents of their 
childhood and people over and over 
again named the smell of a newly 
opened box of Crayola crayons. You 
see, in there is all the wonder of 
youth, all the possibilities, all 
the chances and choices to make the 
world as you want it to be. Go 
ahead, Scully, open it, " he said 
as an invitation.



I hadn't realized it, but as he was 
giving me his explanation for the 
unique gift which I held in my 
hands, he had moved to a kneeling 
position right next to me and had 
entwined his fingers with mine 
around the box. I had no choice, 
therefor, when his hand began to 
"help" me open the box. I also 
seemed to not have a choice in 
closing my eyes to better drink in 
the scent wafting up at me.



"Scully," he was beginning to 
whisper as he rose up closer to me, 
" I couldn't possibly allow you to 
think that youth was out of reach, 
even for us. I'm sorry if I led you 
to think I felt otherwise." With 
that, his hand closed tightly 
around mine, almost swallowing it 
with intensity, and I turned my 
head to meet his lips.



Our kiss at midnight on New Years 
was sweet, quiet, innocent. 
Tonight, however, I believe all of 
the feelings, all of the need, 
which we desired to convey, was in 
this kiss. At first languid, it 
began to build in intensity. As our 
lips both consumed and sustained 
the other, the giving and taking of 
breath seemed so natural. I could 
feel the life within him which was 
my own, my true life-line. Before I 
completed this revelatory thought, 
however, he broke our kiss I was 
left trying to steady myself when 
he spoke in a hoarse, ragged voice:



"Scully, I need you to know that I 
did not come here tonight to seduce 
you. I mean if by some chance I get 
that lucky, great." His familiar 
smirk and leer somehow comforted me 
even if the remark did catch me a 
bit off guard. He continued, "When 
I saw your face fall in that 
hallway, today, it scared me. I 
wished I could have said just the 
right thing to assure you of me and 
what you mean to me, but of course 
I didn't." He lowered his eyes and 
voice as he spoke. " I still don't 
know quite what to say, but I just 
couldn't let it go. I need to know 
that everything is all right."



My hand reached out to caress his 
stubbled cheek, my eyes speaking 
before my words. "Mulder, don't you 
know that you are my youth? You are 
my wonder and my possibilities? 
Apart from you the world, my world 
is too old. But together…," I left 
the phrase dangling between us as 
an offering.



Taking my hand once more in his, 
pressing his forehead to mine, he 
ever so quietly whispered, "Maybe 
we're not too old after all."





END



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