DISCLAIMER: X-Files, Mulder, Scully and all related characters belong to that amazing person called Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. I mean no infringement. I am just borrowing the characters briefly to fulfil a dream, and I give them back undamaged by the experience (after a mind-swipe of course - can’t have either of them remembering anything that may be considered unusual to their current lives!).

CATEGORY: ST and MSR themes.

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: All episodes up to and including "Milagro" (Season Six)

NOTE: I have never written fanfic before, and don’t consider myself an expert. After viewing "Milagro" I had a night of tossing and turning, and this story was the result of that. I was encouraged to write it all down, and it started off as a one parter, but funnily enough, the story kept growing and new elements sprouted from my over-active imagination. So I decided to break the story into five parts, each one having a central theme related to the original one. So far, the first four parts are tame, and explore Scully and Mulders relationship after the Padgett experience. Part five is still only in my head - and may stay there for awhile until I feel the time is right. Thank you for listening.

TITLE: Breaking Away.

Part One: Breaking Down the Walls.

AUTHOR: Triton

triton-x@yahoo.com

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As they pulled up outside her apartment, Mulder glanced over at Scully. She was sitting rigidly in the seat, staring at a spot in the distance. Her tailored black coat barely hid the splash of dried red blood on her white shirt. There was still a smear across her neck, juxtaposing brightly with the deathly paleness of her skin and the darkness of her vacant eyes. Even her usually burnished titan hair seemed dark and lank. She hadn’t uttered a word since they had begun the trip home.

Mulder knew better than to verbalise his concern, but he was very worried. So worried, in fact, that he couldn’t even think of a humorous line to make her smile. Which was unlike him! Not that she would have smiled anyway! He didn’t think she was even there with him in spirit. He wanted to see her smile, he desperately wanted to see that bright radiant smile, and he feared that, finally, it had lost the will to compete with all the terror it had been subjected to over the past few years.

Special Agent Dana Scully had been attacked again, and considering she had barely recovered from the gunshot wound to her stomach a barely two months earlier, Mulder was tearing himself up from the inside with guilt. He had known Phillip Padgett was dangerous, they had both known, but this knowledge still hadn’t prevented Scully from being pushed violently to the floor of his apartment, and it hadn’t stopped the masked assailant from ripping at her body, at her heart, trying to remove her life-force.

With a sigh, Scully suddenly seemed to realise she was home, and wordlessly undid her seatbelt, opened the car door and climbed out. She walked robotically towards the entrance of her building, neither acknowledging or dismissing Mulder’s presence. Hesitantly he followed her up to her apartment. She didn’t speak to him or look at him, and on entering her apartment, she headed straight through the dark lounge room to her bedroom, leaving Mulder standing at the open doorway. He stood, stiff and pensive, for a few moments before he flicked on the lights, and closed the front door.

**********

Scully wandered wearily around her bedroom trying to still her racing thoughts, picking up nick-knacks, and bits and pieces, only to stare vacantly at them briefly before replacing them in the same spot. With a disheartened shrug, she collapsed onto the end of her bed. She ran her hands slowly through her hair, then rubbed at her face. She felt really sullied, her face was dry and sore from the emotional outburst earlier, her eyes red and swollen. Every muscle in her body felt stiff and sore, and she was sure she was bruised. She raised herself wearily from the bed, sighing deeply, and headed towards bathroom.

**********

Mulder removed his jacket and slung it over the back of the couch. He surveyed the tidy room for any task that could occupy him, for anything that would give him a valid excuse to stay with Scully, for something that wouldn’t openly betray the fact that he was only there to keep an eye on her. He wanted, so desperately, to look after her, but she had stubbornly refused repeatedly to accept such concern from him. He had learnt over the past few years that it was easier to mask these feelings from her, but observe discretely under the guise of any valid excuse he could come up with. This method worked best with someone as stubborn, obstinate and headstrong as Scully.

Spying the computer, he smiled delightedly - a perfect ruse, and sat down at the desk to boot up. At this point he heard the pattering sounds coming from the bathroom, signalling that Scully had turned on the taps in the shower, and he sighed, stretching back in the swivel chair, raising his long lanky arms above head. He focused his gaze onto the ceiling, and replayed the past few hours in his mind. Replayed the horror he felt when down in the basement, watching Padgett trying to burn the pages of his story. Replayed the horror he felt when he heard the gunshots above, and the terrified sensation he felt as he raced up the stair-well, and into his apartment to see Scully lying silent on the floor. Replayed his intense relief when she jerked and threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

He had wanted so much for her to talk to him during the trip home, but she had been withdrawn and pale. Shaking his head, he sat up again and stared at the flickering screen of the monitor.

It was such a rare thing for Scully to show her emotions, and he treasured each memory, recording each and every moment where she had displayed something that was not part of her usual professional manner. Every smile, every laugh, every tear was catalogued in that part of his methodical brain called "My Special and Rare Glimpse’s of That Amazing Individual Called Scully". The hardest part of storing this information was that he could not share it with her, he could never tell her the depth of his admiration, his devotion, or his heart-wrenching love for her. It was not something he could bring up in general conversation as most episodes were also tinged with horrific images. There never seemed a ‘right’ moment to say "Hey Scully, remember the time Donnie Pfaster abducted you and tried to cut off your hair and fingers...gee that was such a special moment for me!"

*******************

Scully stepped into the shower, letting the warm spray hit her body, drench her, wash away the nightmare of the attack. She stood there for a long while, feeling numb and tired. Robotic. Empty. It was an effort to lift her hand to the liquid soap dispenser hanging from the shower rose. It was an effort to even lather the viscous liquid into delicate soapy suds. Rubbing it slowly over her skin, then washing it off, trying to loosen the tension in her muscles.

She kept check of her emotions, she was drained anyway. Ruefully she tried to think of anything but what had just happened to her. But as she lathered the vanilla scented suds to her chest, the delicate foam took on a pink tinge as the dried blood dissolved from her skin. The images came rushing back to her - being pushed to the ground, the hooded assailant grabbing at her tirelessly, and her desperate struggle to release herself from his hold. Indiscriminate pain, and an unsettling memory of her heart being touched. The terror, the adrenalin, the angry look in his eyes, in all their eyes, in all the eyes of anyone who had grabbed her in the same manner. The collective faces of all the monsters that she had struggled with over the past six years. Then the realisation that yet again, she was going to die.

At this point, Scully gave way to her emotions, at first whimpering softly and leaning her head against the wall of the shower recess, then giving way to wrenching sobs as she slid to the floor.

Tuned in as he was, Mulder became aware of her sobs almost instantly. Before he was even aware of his actions, he had entered into her private domain, her steam-filled, vanilla scented bathroom, without hesitation, and had reached for her, pulled her closely to his chest, enveloped her small shaking body in his own. His long arms wrapped around her torso, one hand cradled in her wet hair, her head snuggled tightly under his chin. He rocked her slightly, soothing her, whispering her name and sweet words of comfort over and over.

Scully cried and cried, trying to speak, trying to formulate sentences to express her turmoil, but amidst the sobs she could only utter a smattering of seemingly unrelated, yet obviously related, words. "I...can’t...no more......not....in the eyes....not again...it’s all of them....I...no more....Padgett...eyes....Schnauz......not again....Duane Barry ..again .. . Pfaster ....dead...and...Fellig looking at death....seeing death....why?"

Mulder didn’t try and answer her questions, because he couldn’t. As much as he knew the answer, that he was the answer, he couldn’t make her feel worse. He only wanted to soothe her, to let her release her pain.

As the sobs subsided, Mulder removed the hand that was tangled through her wet hair, and reached for the white towelling robe hanging from the back of the door. He wrapped it gently around her now cold and goose-pimpled flesh. Scully sagged as he released his grip, and it tore at his heart to see the usually strong, upright Scully looking so desolate, so small, so vulnerable. He again drew her into his arms, trying to feed her with his strength. She looked up at him briefly, her eyelids swollen and red, her lips pale. She didn’t speak this time, only disentangled herself from his grasp. She tried to smile, to reassure him she was Ok, but she didn’t have the energy. Slowly she turned and moved away, towards her bedroom.

For a second, Mulder felt disorientated as the space where her warm body had occupied against his own was left cold and exposed. He heard the soft rustle of sheets being turned down and pillows being fluffed. He imagined her crawling into bed and curling up under the covers, but he didn’t look in on her, or follow her. He was too busy standing there in the bathroom staring morosely at himself in the fogged mirror, wishing he did have the strength to go to her.

********************

After a restless few hours, Scully woke to a fiery thirst. Wearily, she padded her way to the kitchen, pausing momentarily behind Mulder, still sitting at her desk tapping away at the keyboard. She smiled briefly to herself. She wasn’t really surprised, Mulder spent a lot of time sitting at her desk, and she wondered why she hadn’t really thought much about this before. On a quick reflection she knew that it didn’t bother her that he was a comfortable fixture in her apartment, in her life. She passed quietly behind him, heading towards the kitchen.

Mulder, already well aware of her presence, turned to watch her, concern furrowing his brow. Her short mop of auburn hair was unruly, and her bathrobe was in disarray, but as she hadn’t noticed this herself, he thought it best not to bring attention to it. A sense of warm familiarity passed through him as he realised that Scully was so comfortable with his presence, that not only did she not question his vigil, but she could also stand there in front of the open fridge, either unaware or uncaring that her robe had opened slightly to reveal most of one breast and thigh. He felt himself arouse slightly, but pulled himself into check, there was no way he was going to spoil this moment with her, not when he knew that deep down in the bottom-most part of his soul, she was the person that he wanted to spend eternity with the most.

After pouring tea into two mugs, she padded back over to him. Resting gently on the edge of desk, she passed him a mug, then peered over his shoulder at the monitor.

"What could possibly be so urgent that you are still working? Don’t you ever sleep?" she asked, her voice still husky from sleep.

"Well, there are a few loose ends that I wanted to tie up, and a few reports due to Skinner in the morning. Plus, there was nothing on television!" Mulder smiled up at her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, and the pale tinge that made her skin appear translucent. She didn’t smile back.

"Plus, you wanted to keep an eye on me!" she said, raising an eyebrow.

Her bluntness, although expected, was masking a deep sadness about what had happened earlier, Mulder thought to himself. It scared him witless to think he had nearly lost her again. He again began harbouring those thoughts of guilt that it was his fault she nearly died again, if it wasn’t for him, if it wasn’t for the X-Files, she wouldn’t have been exposed to Phillip Padgett in his apartment building.

"Well Mulder, I am fine, so....."

"You always say that! And I know you too well Scully. No matter what has happened to you, you always say you are fine!" He leaned closer towards her. "Well, whether or not you are, I am staying put," he whispered softly.

Scully only shrugged in response. "Mulder, I appreciate your concern but I am feeling much better, and I’m going back to bed." She moved away, then hesitated and reached out towards him, gently caressing his cheek, then leaned over and gently kissed his forehead. Her half exposed breast waved within a centimetre of his face, and although the temptation to ignore his professional respect for her flared up, he again ignored the feeling. Scully was not totally unaware of his yearnings, there had been a few times when they had nearly crossed THAT line, but he knew deep down in his heart that this was definitely NOT the right time to address the issue. Plus, the thought of her trusting him so much with her privacy was a much nicer reward to him.

Mulder smiled up at her, trying to search deep into her eyes, trying to convey to her in a look how he felt for her, but her eyes seemed murky and shallow. She smiled wanly and walked away from him.

**************

In the safety of her bedroom, Scully again let the tears flow freely. She had seen the look of adoration and complete love his eyes, but she felt empty and lost. She curled back under the bedlinen and quietly sobbed herself back to sleep.

******************

In morning, after a full night vigil, Mulder showered to bolster his energy. After a rummage through the kitchen cupboards, and an attempt at using Scully’s electric coffee brewer, Mulder carried her breakfast into her room. Scully was lying on her back, arms tucked up behind her head, hair spread across the pillow, legs entwined in the quilt, robe sprawled open, evoking an innocence and vulnerability that stopped him in his tracks. It was a very different image from any other time he had seen her before, let alone partly unclothed. He gazed at her fondly, loving her with every fibre of his soul. He gently lifted the sheet and covered her up, kissing her gently on the forehead, and she stirred, looking up at him with an endearing sleepy eyed gaze. Mulder smiled tenderly back at the woman who owned his heart completely.

Scully reached out and took his hand, tugging gently to encourage him to sit next to her. He felt the warmth from her fingers seeping through his own, a magical touch that tingled through every nerve of his body. Feeling stoic, he perched on the end of the bed, after all it was Scully’s bed, and began to release his hand from hers, but she squeezed tightly and drew their entwined hands towards her, nestling them in the curve of her neck. She closed her eyes briefly, and a whisper of a smile played across her pale lips. When she looked up at him again, Mulder became lost in the intensity of her gaze, and caught his breath as her blue eyes filled with tears. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper.

"Mulder... there is so much I could say to you about what happened in your apartment, about the terror I felt as those incessant hands groped for my heart, as I felt my blood splashing across my chest, as I realised the futility of the situation when the bullets had no affect at all. I could fill days discussing how scared I was, and how yet again I had experienced another life threatening encounter. But, as I was thinking about all of this, I knew that there would be some element of the experience that I would not share with you." Tears were now threatening to leave their safe haven from the corners of her eyes to trickle slowly down her pale cheeks, and Mulder held back the temptation to wipe them away. His heart had slowed down it’s beat so that it’s quietened state would allow him to drink in every word she uttered. The soft manner in which she was speaking did not correlate with the vivid description she was relating, and he felt sure that what she was about to say was something so important that he did not want to miss a single nuance or syllable or note.

There was a light catch to her voice as she began again. "You and I tend to circle the issue of our feelings, especially when they don’t relate to the case we are working on. I feel though, Mulder, that I have reached a pinnacle, and if I don’t tell you about what I was really thinking at the time, then I am not being true to myself, or to you."

At this point, Scully pulled herself up from the tangled bedlinen and enveloped herself against the pillows and headboard. She withdraw her mesmerising gaze away from him, almost embarrassed about what she was about to reveal. She was prepared to finally expose her soul to him, to open up her heart and share an intimate thought, and she didn’t really care about the ramifications. Well, she did care, but she was prepared to accept them as they came. She let go of his hand, and drew her arms around herself, drawing her knees up into her personal embrace. Finally, with a deep heart-wrenching sigh, she looked up at him again with a such a look of despair, that Mulder could not, and would not, draw away from.

"The last thing that came to my mind as I felt consciousness leave me was that, yet again I had most probably died without experiencing a single real intimate moment with you. My last regret, Mulder, was not related to anything to do with my work, my career, my religion or my family. I craved that I had one moment to carry with me as I went, one emotional or passionate feeling, a moment where we shared something beyond merely special!"

Her tears were rolling freely now, but Scully still felt in control, and strong. " I don’t want to die without ever knowing what it was like to be with you, or having you die without leaving a part of your love within me." She was aware that he did love her, she had sensed it on numerous occasions, and could see it reflected in his eyes at this instance. What she wasn’t sure of was the extent of his feelings, whether his need for her was more of a professional matter than a personal one, whether his love for her was based on their working partnership or whether it ran as deep into his soul as her love for him ran into hers. She wanted to reach out to him, to pull him close, but she knew that unless Mulder felt the same way, it would embarrass both of them.

Instead, using the sleeve of her robe, she wiped the salty moisture from her eyes and cheeks, not fully confident to look directly into his eyes again to see his reaction. She felt him stand up and move away, the bed suddenly feeling very empty without his closeness.

She risked a glimpse up at him, and noted sadly that he was facing away from her, looking out of the window into the street below. The rush of disappointment she felt did not surprise her, she had prepared herself for this moment, had been thinking about it all through the long restless night as she listened to him tap away at the keyboard.

"And, Mulder, since I know that this revelation of mine will no doubt destroy our friendship and partnership, the bottom line here is that I can’t continue to work with you."

***********

End Part One.