Title: Mirakel Author: Abigail Leigh E-Mail: littlemiss_spookymulder@hotmail.com Rating: PG-13 Category: MSR Classification: Vignette Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine. They're Chris Carter's and 1013's. Although I feel the CC didn't do the best job with the finale, all are entitled to their own opinion, and that is only my own. Which is exactly why I am writing this. Summary: Losing the chance for one miracle doesn't mean giving up on another. Author's Note: Mirakel (Norwegian for Miracle) Dedication: This story is for Trek. Happy Birthday! :) Xxxxxxxxxx They merely stood together, his forehead pressed against hers, for long moments, her azure eyes closed in a silent grief, his hazels beginning to pervade with tears at her customarily hidden emotions. Words could not describe the intimacy of their situation, nor would they attempt to. She'd made the simplest of requests, for him to perform an act feral in nature that involved only himself and yet, strangely, her at the same time. The entreaty in itself was finitely simple but the circumstances infinitely complicated. But this was something she couldn't possibly know, he understood. He opened his eyes slowly and lifted them to watch her, exquisite features creased with suffering, her brow furrowed, tears slipping silently down creamy cheeks as she lamented the child she would never have. How he wanted to comfort her. To express to her how he felt, and yet he didn't know how. So he did the only thing he could. He waited for her to speak. She drew in breath after shuddering breath, recalling to mind the words he had spoken only moments earlier. He told her to never give up on a miracle. She wanted, needed with a passion to believe him, that by abiding in simple faith could she receive a blessing from the heavens. But it wasn't every day that God descended and granted the requests of barren women. That was a concept she couldn't quite understand. Eventually, tears ran dry and she could cry no more. On their own accord, her eyes opened, and she found him calmly watching her. Her hands released their hold from around his rough neck and she gradually pulled away, and took his hands into hers. "Thank you, Mulder," she whispered so softly that he nearly mistook it for a mere exhalation, but somewhere he heard her words, and appreciated their double meaning. "Welcome Scully," he replied sincerely, still cradling her hands in his. He sensed that there was something else that she wanted to say, but he didn't have to pry. For a moment later, tears filled her sapphire blue eyes again. "Mulder, I don't understand!" she burst out suddenly, tearing her hands from his and walking to the couch. She sat down and her head found a place in her palms. At an integral loss for words he sat down beside her, leaning forward slightly to look back into her face. Syllables formed words, and those very words drifted from his lips and into her expectant ears, soft sounds uttered gently. "I know, Scully. I know." She spoke then, a soft utterance in the still room, an expression slightly subdued by her tiny hands. "I don't understand why. Who could be so cruel as to take my children from me?" Without a doubt, it was a rhetorical question, for they both wordlessly recognized the answer, either unable or unwilling to speak it aloud. She lifted her face, streaked with the ominous red imprints of tears, and looked into his eyes, icy blue against warm hazel. Petite hands fell to her lap, twitching nervously and she uttered, "This was my last chance for a miracle," as she retreated a second time, walking to the window, arms clutching her tiny torso. And in that moment realization dawned like a new morning. She, in all of her uncertainty, would not believe in miracles of the sort, and, in turn, was giving up. Unsure of what to do, he slid an amiable arm around her shaking shoulders. "You can't give up, Scully." Her eyes closed and she stifled a tiny smile at his persistent encouragement. Her fingers moved between them and she laced her fingers into his lightly. And of its own volition, his coarse hand rested against her cheek, one thumb barely stroking her skin. Defiant arousal deftly swept aside any resolve that may have been swimming in her blood and replaced its insecurities with an indescribable feeling that she herself could not quite recognize. His touch was gentle, a simple gesture of a hand to a cheek, and yet even something so simple could banish fear and doubt, penetrating the walls that she had erected around her heart, filling every drop of blood, every vessel, every beat. He felt the tremor, however slight, in her face, in the hand that held his. He noticed how her eyes became dilated, her breathing speeding up only a little. A frail rush built up inside of his chest, and a few other places he'd rather she didn't know about. Her fingers were so warm, traces of wetness from where her tears had fallen. Her face flushed from crying, or perhaps, he realized, there was another reason. He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead and she allowed herself to be drawn to his chest, his arms coming to surround her. Her arms slid tentatively around his waist, and he knew then that he should speak. "Scully, when you asked me to do this for you, and I said I didn't want it to come between us..." Her warm finger to his lips silenced him. "Shh..." she chided gently. "I know." It had already come between them, however, in a way that neither of them had expected. An open door, now, was only a simple barrier that stood between them. All they had to do was walk through. She took her head away from his warmth and whispered, "I think I'm going to go lay down now." Her eyes chanced a glimpse at him, and saw something a mixture of confusion and defeat. He sighed heavily, a weight resting upon his shoulders. So it had come between them, and somewhere a door had been closed. He was staring into nothingness, for she had gone away. "Okay, well..." he faltered, turning to leave, attempting to keep the emotion from his voice. "I'd better be going. I'll see-" Her hand on his bicep stopped him, and he turned back to face her, fearing the worst, and yet hoping for the best. A miracle of sorts. Her hand slid down and captured his, and he looked down at her. "Mulder..." she started. "Scully," he cut her off abruptly. "I said this wouldn't come between us. But I can't pretend that it hasn't. I have...feelings...for you, Scully. I've tried to deny them. But I can't. Not after everything that's happened between us. Not after this." He looked into her azure eyes, bright with something he couldn't recognize in her. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she gave a weak nod. "There's something I wanted to tell you too." He reached out to hold her other hand as well, leaning over her. "What?" he asked lowly. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered, smiling now, tugging him towards her. He needed no further invitation. THE END.