TITLE: "Sitting here loving her" 
AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * kirsten_xf@yahoo.com 
RATING: PG 
CLASSIFICATION: Mulder/Scully Romance 
CATEGORY: V R A 
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. 
SPOILERS: Kitsunegari 
FEEDBACK: Oh definitely. Have a Mulder ... 
SUMMARY: Post-episode story 
NOTE: I've been wanting to do a post-episode story for a long 
time, but I usually couldn't find a good starting-point. Kitsunegari 
(which I personally thought to be a pretty good episode ...) 
became the one ...

XxXxX 
"Sitting here loving her"
XxXxX 
 
   Scully. My Scully. My Dana. 
   Here I am, sitting on the floor of my apartment, looking at 
you as you sleep on my couch, the infamous black leather couch. 
It's blessed with your presence. I'm blessed with your presence. 
   Skinner told me I had won. I'd won Modell's game, won 
Linda's game. I asked him how it came that I felt I'd lost. For I 
have. I have lost: I almost killed you, shot you. Point blank, close 
range, execution style. And you were right, I would never have 
forgiven myself. I would've used the next bullet for myself ... 
   I swallow hard at the thought and I look at you, your small 
body stretched out across the leather, one leg slightly bent, your 
left arm resting on your stomach, your face turned towards me. I 
reach out and carefully finger your hair, its silken softness spilling 
through my fingers. I repeat the movement, but this time I softly 
brush my index finger over your brow before letting it comb 
lightly through the fiery strands. And then I know, realise it all 
over again. 
   I love you, Scully. It may have taken me an awfully long 
time to admit it, but I do. I love you so much it's almost insane. 
   Looking at you I feel tears well up in my eyes. They sting 
in my nose and the back of my throat. Involuntarily I replay the 
scene in the warehouse inside my head, the moment when I saw 
you standing there in the middle of the floor, raising your gun and 
pointing it towards me. You looked so desperate when you told 
me it was Linda who was making you do this, making you 
threaten to shoot me. But that wasn't as half bad as the moment 
when you held the weapon to your temple. And pulled the trigger 
... You pulled the trigger, Scully! You pulled the goddamn 
trigger! How could you do that to me? How could you? How could 
you shoot yourself right there in front of me? 
   I feel one tear run hot and wet over my cheek. Scully, why? 
I know you're not the one to blame, I know you tried to withstand 
the pressure she put on you, I know she made you do this ... I also 
know it wasn't even really you, it was merely an image, an image 
Linda Bowman concocted and willed me to see, but it's become a 
nightmare, Scully, a nightmare which will haunt me, keep me up 
at nights, and I've got so many already ... 
   The feeling that is washing over me now is the same kind 
of feeling I felt when I went to see you in the hospital, that night 
when I watched you sleep, dying of a disease I was the cause of 
and for which I had no cure. I knew then as I know now that my 
life would be so utterly miserable, so devastatingly incomplete 
without you. I would have done literally anything for you, just to 
save you, to bring you back to me, to make you happy again. I 
wanted to see you smile so badly, Dana, I still want to see you 
smile. I want to hear you laugh, even it's at my expense, I want to 
see you live ... please let me be the one who can make you live, 
Dana. I'm so tired of watching people die ... 
   I rest my head on the couch, as close to your face as I can 
without actually touching you. I feel your warmth, your breath, 
your presence. I can't help the sigh which escapes me and I feel 
grateful just for being allowed so close to you. 
   Yesterday, when we left Skinner's office, I simply couldn't 
take my eyes off you. A feeling of total gratitude overwhelmed me 
as I marvelled in the sheer fact that it was you who was walking 
by my side. It was you. You weren't dead, dead of cancer, dead of 
a bullet, mine or yours, you were alive and, God, I loved you so 
much at that moment! That's why I did what I did, Scully. That's 
why I took you in my arms right in the middle of a crowded 
corridor and just held you close. I could have kissed you, wanted 
to in fact, but I didn't just fall off the turnip truck. And holding 
you was quite all right at that moment as well, anything, just as 
long as I felt you. You smiled widely and held me so tightly I 
momentarily felt like I was going to lose consciousness, but I 
wasn't. Instead I just let your eyes light yet another dark corner of 
my heart and flood it with the love that's natural to you, but which 
has the power to enchant me. Has enchanted me in fact, time and 
again. I saw other people looking at us -- well, how could they not 
-- and I felt an absurd feeling of pride washing over me, defying 
those people to ignore this, to refuse to acknowledge our love, that 
wonderful connection that binds you and I together in a 
partnership that exceeds the logical. I must have grinned like a 
goof. 
   Why we went here is something I'll probably never find 
out. My place isn't where you'd want to spend an evening 
together. I'd suggest your place for that. I have nothing here, no 
food or drink, no cosiness or atmosphere, no nothing. My place is 
for sleeping, sleeping with nightmares and haunted visions which 
threaten to wake you at night and make your life into the hell 
mine had been for years and years. Your place on the other hand 
is for living. Living quietly, peacefully, the air filled with rest, 
friendliness and the warm unmistakable, undefinable scent of love 
and care. 
   But we didn't go there, instead we ended up here. Had I 
known we would I would at least have cleaned up a bit, but now 
we found ourselves in the biggest mess in the history of this 
apartment. For one utterly unrealistic moment I prayed you 
wouldn't notice, but how on earth had I wanted you to achieve 
that? Of course you noticed, you would've been blind if you hadn't ... 
   "Mmm, now I know you didn't exactly expect me, 
Mulder," you said over your shoulder, a twinkle in your eyes 
assuring me that nothing was terribly wrong, "but isn't this a little 
over the top?" 
   I only smiled and walked up to you. Then I pulled you 
gently to me, your back against me and I looked over your 
shoulder at the disaster which had befallen my apartment. And let 
me tell you what: I didn't give a damn! And neither did you, did 
you? 
   "Care to help me clean up?" I asked and I felt your sigh. 
You turned in my arms and looked up at me. And I swear I just 
saw you melt then and there. The obvious benefits of the time-
tested puppy-dog look. 
   "Oh, all right," you smiled, raising up on tiptoes to kiss me 
briefly. It wasn't the first kiss we shared, but it still felt delightfully 
new. 
   And now I'm sitting here in my spotlessly clean apartment. 
It took us well over two hours to clear up the mess and that was 
not including the time we spent at the supermarket, trying to find 
something with which we could stock my fridge. But it was worth 
it. It was absolutely worth it. After we came home and put away 
all the stuff we'd bought, you told me you wanted to lie down for a 
while and I offered you my couch. The smile you gave me before 
you fell asleep was priceless and it touched me deeply. 
   I reach out and stroke your hair, loving you so much I 
cannot verbalise it. 
   "I love you," I whisper hoarsely, tears choking my voice. I 
feel frustrated when I notice the total inadequacy of these words. 
Isn't there anything better in the English language? 
   You stir. Maybe my words, whispers though they may have 
been, have woken you up. You open your eyes just the slightest bit 
and I see two suns, two radiant stars there. You reach out with 
your hand and touch my face. Then, with what must be a sleep-
fogged mind, you let your fingers trail over my face, softly feeling 
it and I see the concentration which is making your eyes focus in 
that special way you have when you're thinking really hard. I let 
you touch me. You blink and your eyes get wet. 
   I love your eyes. They're so big and blue and soft. 
   "Mulder?" you whisper, your fingers touching the 
underside of my jaw. I nod slightly, almost imperceptibly, not 
wanting you disturb your fingers by saying something. 
   "You know what?" you continue. 
   'What?' I let my eyes ask you and you smile dreamily. Your 
hand drops away from my face and I grab it in mid-air, holding it, 
intertwining our fingers. 
   "You're beautiful," you whisper and something inside me 
leaps at the words. You close your eyes again and your fingers 
curl around mine. It feels like a bond, the way our hands are 
clasped together. "Really." 
   I look up at your gentle face and swallow. Oh Scully, how 
can you say such a thing when you're still so sleepy and you can't 
think clearly yet? How can you claim such a thing so openly when 
you of all people know so well just what I'm like deep inside? 
Should I believe in Hell, I'd be the first one to go there, don't you 
see that, my angel? 
   Your eyes open again and they're more focused now. "You 
are, Mulder," you whisper. "Everything about you is beautiful." 
   Silently I wonder whether you can read people's minds that 
you know just what I was thinking. Then I shake my head. 
   "I'm not, Scully," I whisper, bringing your hand to my lips 
and kissing the palm. I can't help but feel as if I were a humble 
servant, generously granted to kiss the hand of his Lady. 
   You smile at me, your eyes still wet. "Mulder, you are. You 
know you are. I know you believe you let so many people down, 
but you haven't," you say softly, bringing our faces closer to each 
other. "You have a warm, generous heart, Mulder, you care about 
the people around you, even when they do not return the love you 
give to them. And I want you to know how much this love, this 
care you give to others has made me warm and caring and 
different. You changed me in so many ways, in so many good 
ways ... Inside I feel I've become a better person because of you 
even if the rest of the world thinks I've become hard and cold. But 
I'm a better person now because of you, because of the wonderful 
example I've had ..." 
   I can't help the smile which appears on my face and I 
bridge the remaining inch between us and kiss you softly, 
lingeringly. I feel your fingertips on my cheek, five cool touches 
so soft they feel like butterflies on my skin. 
   "You know all this, don't you?" you ask when we part. 
Your look is quite serious now. 
   I don't know, Scully. I honestly don't know ... 
   Just like always you seem to be able to read my thoughts 
and your eyes close for a lingering moment, your lips curled in a 
reassuring smile. 
   "I realise you probably think I'm exaggerating," you say 
softly, "and perhaps I've always wanted, you know, not to be that 
clear, that dependent when it came to other people because I felt it 
was a weakness of sorts, but you've changed that in me, showed 
me that depending on someone else wasn't a weakness, but that it 
could be strength in itself as well. You made me into a pretty good 
woman, Mulder," you chuckle and I smile. "Mentally," you add 
and then you close your eyes. "I'm not sure about the rest ..."  I 
smile but do not reply. A wide yawn escapes you and we both 
laugh softly. 
   "Oops, sorry for that," you say with a wide smile, your eyes 
still closed. 
   I shake my head and raise my hand to let my thumb caress 
your cheek. "Don't be," I whisper and lean over to place a kiss on 
the spot where my thumb is. You murmur and it sounds like a 
purr. Suppose you've always known how to boost my battered ego. 
This thought makes me grin. 
   I love you, Dana Katherine Scully. I love you with 
everything I am, for everything you are. 
   I sigh softly and kiss the tips of your fingers. "Go back to 
sleep, Scully. You've been through a lot, you need your sleep." 
   "Mmm, think that goes for you as well, Mulder," you say 
and then you frown as you turn onto your back. "Why don't you 
have a bed, Mulder?" 
   I shrug. "Guess I never bothered to get one. Why?" 
   "Mulder, you can't sleep properly on that couch. You never 
get enough sleep to keep on living the life we live. It's going to 
cost you." 
   "I'm an insomniac, remember?" I say, my smile wry. "I 
don't need much sleep." 
   Your eyes open and you turn your head so you can look at 
me with a look of un-expected sadness. "I'm sorry," you whisper. 
You take my hand in yours and directs it towards your lips. You 
softly kiss the palm and then the fingers and I feel a thrill 
coursing through my body. 
   "Why?" 
   "I ... I don't know ... I just think your life would be so 
much easier if ..." You sigh. "I feel so sorry for you sometimes. 
Don't you want to change your life, Mulder? This madness, this 
endless crusade ... don't you sometimes wish it would all end? To 
exchange this all for ..." You don't finish your sentence so I do it 
for you. 
   "A normal life." It's not a question. 
   You open your eyes and look at me. "Don't you?" 
   I smile and nod. "Yes, Scully, sometimes I do. Sometimes I 
want nothing more than to leave the Bureau and settle down, buy 
a house and a Volvo, get married, have a dog and a normal boring 
nine-to-five job. Sometimes, yes, I do get fed up with this never-
ending chase after this elusive thing we call The Truth. 
Sometimes I'm sitting here in this very apartment, tired and so 
alone and the tears just come and there isn't anything I can do 
about it. And then, at such moments, there's nothing I want more 
than just get the hell out of here, get the hell away from this 
insane life I'm living. You know, just to get out of this place and 
drive over to your place where I'm welcomed and where I can pull 
myself together again and find all the pieces of my shattered 
confidence and find some peace of mind again ..." 
   "My place?" you ask and you look stunned. "What is it my 
place has to offer you?" 
   I sigh and rest my head on the couch next to yours, but I 
don't meet your eyes. "Company," I say. Then I raise my eyes and 
look at you. "Do you know how much I crave your company? This 
place, it's so silent it could be a tomb." I wave my hand across the 
room and you follow it with your look. When our eyes meet again 
I see they're tear-filled. "This place isn't home to me, Scully, not 
to me, not to anyone. It's a warm alternative to sleeping rough. It's 
a means of keeping my job and my insurance. Oh sure, I have a 
place to live, a place where I can go after I've spent just another 
day chasing after little green men, but it's not home to me, Scully. 
There's not a single thing in here that I'm feeling attached to." I 
feel a tear run down the dried tracks of its predecessors. "This 
apartment is meaningless to me ... I'm craving a home, Scully, a 
place where I feel secure and at ease." I avert my eyes and look at 
nothing in particular. "This place is so full of horrors, of 
nightmares and hellish visions ... But your place, your place is so 
quiet and peaceful ..." My voice drops to a whisper and once again 
I rest my head close to yours and let my eyes slip shut. "I feel at 
home in a house that isn't mine while I feel a stranger in the 
house that is." I sigh deeply. "How insane is that, huh?" 
   I feel your hand comb through my hair. 
   "Then come home with me, Mulder," I hear you whisper. I 
smile and nod slightly. I want to. We're silent for a while, 
relaxing in the reassuring familiarity of each other's presence. 
After long minutes I slowly open my eyes and see you looking at 
me. Your smile would make oxygen obsolete for me ... 
   "I feel pretty good now though," I say softly. Your hand 
moves to the back of my head and I look at you. 
   "That's good," you answer. You move closer to me and I 
meet you half-way. We kiss for a long long time, calm and totally 
at ease. There's no hurry, we have no need for that, the familiarity 
of one another is all the fuel this kiss needs. Passion can come 
later, we have no need for it right now. 
   It's not like I've kept check of the time, but I know it's 
several minutes before our lips part. Our lips part and our gazes 
lock. 
   "Go home with me, Mulder," you whisper. "Please." 
   I smile but do not answer. It was not a question in the first 
place and you already know my answer. 
   We're silent once again and I see something is bothering 
you. 
   "What's wrong, Scully?" 
   Your look changes from sweet to compassionate to 
worrying in a matter of seconds. "Would you have shot me, 
Mulder?" 
   I look down, then nod slowly. "If you hadn't shot Linda 
Bowman, yes, I would have." I look up at you. "You were Linda, 
Scully, your face, your voice, everything. And all I knew was that 
you had made my partner put a bullet in her head and that she 
was lying there in a pool of her own blood, dead. I was desperate 
..." I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory and a few tears are 
forced out. "I was trying to remember just how many bullets I still 
had in this clip, just so that I could blast them all in 'you' except 
for that last one which I would've used for myself ..." Those 
hellish moments return and I feel I'm on the verge of losing the 
hold I've got on my control. I look up at you through a film of 
tears, pleading with you to understand what I'd been going 
through when I knelt down beside your body and I couldn't find a 
pulse. "Suicide was never so tempting ..." I choke out and then my 
fragile control snaps and tears fall fast and hot. The seat of the 
couch shifts and then I feel your arms come around me as you sit 
down on the floor beside me. One hand cradles my head, keeps it 
to your cheek, the other arm comes around my back in an 
impossibly strong and reassuring gesture. I move my arms around 
you and together we cry for what we've got and what we almost 
lost forever. 
   "I love you, Mulder," you whisper, your voice hitching a 
little. "No matter what I do, no matter how mad I am with you, no 
matter what I say to you, I will always love you more than you 
could ever know." You kiss my cheek and I feel your tears wet on 
the tip of my nose. "When I'm angry with you, Mulder, that's just 
because I love you so much and I've usually been so scared that I'd 
lost you and I wouldn't know what to do with myself, with my life 
if you were gone." 
   I cup the back of your head in my hand and rest my 
forehead to yours. One of your hands comes up to my cheek, the 
other cups my neck. I sigh. 
   "I'm sorry for all the things I've done to you," I whisper. 
   You shake your head. "No ..." 
   "I'm sorry for everything I almost did to you," I continue. 
   Again you shake your head. "Mulder, don't ..." 
   With our foreheads still touching I look up and into your 
eyes. A tear escapes me and I see something shatter inside of you. 
"Forgive me," I whisper. 
   You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes. You nod. 
   "Forgive me, Dana." 
   You're crying and you nod again, stronger now. "Yes," you 
say. "Yes, I forgive you." 
   Out of the blue I feel a smile curve my lips and I feel so 
warm inside. "Thanks," I whisper. "Thank you so very much." 
   You smile as well. "Life's weird, isn't it, Mulder?" you 
smile and I nod. 
   "Yes, it is. Especially for the two of us ..." 
   You nod, still smiling sweetly. "That's okay," you say 
softly. "I don't think I'm old enough to be leading a boring life 
yet." 
   I look at you. "Boring life, Scully?" 
   You nod. "Mm-mm. Nine-to-five job, house, Volvo, dog, 
2.5 children, that kind of stuff. Don't know about the marriage-
part though, that has always sort of attracted me." 
   I raise my eyebrows and lift my forehead slightly away 
from yours. "Has it?" 
   "Oh yes, even though it would depend on the man I'd be 
marrying of course." 
   I smile. "Of course." I steal a look and smile a little more. 
"Would I qualify as a suitable husband?" I ask and I'm delighted 
when I see the tips of your ears turn pink. Over the years I've 
learned that when you really blush you're usually embarrassed or 
even humiliated and that's not a good sign. But when I see your 
ears turn pink I know I've discovered a secret in you which you 
probably wouldn't have shared with me anytime soon, but which 
you don't really mind my knowing about. 
   You look at the floor. "I've been considering you, yes," you 
admit and I feel warm. Then you raise your eyes and I see a 
slightly frightened look there. "You're not going to hold me to it, 
are you?" 
   I take your hands in mine and sigh. "Scully, I hoped you'd 
know me well enough not to feel the need to ask me that ..." 
   Your fingers trail soft circles over the back of my hand and 
you close your eyes for a second, biting your lip. "I'm sorry." 
   I bend closer to you and kiss the tip of your nose, making 
you smile. "No need," I answer. "Your secret is safe with me." 
   You chuckle and I smile. "Come," I say, "lie back down 
and close your eyes. I'll even tuck you in." You climb back onto 
the couch and I pull the afghan from the back of the couch and 
cover you with it. Your eyelids are drooping and I'm feeling so 
good. 
   "Sing me a song, Mulder." 
   I freeze. "You know I can't sing, Scully ..." 
   "Doesn't matter. Just sing anything ..." 
   I bow my head and sigh. "You don't want me to sing, 
Dana, you really don't." I plead with you to let me off the hook. 
You really don't want me to sing, Scully, trust me. 
   You murmur. "Spoilsport ..." You smile a little though so I 
feel more relieved. But when I look up into your eyes, I'm 
surprised by the cheeky look I see there. "Just as long as you don't 
think you can get away with it as easily as now when we're 
married, sweetheart." You laugh softly and close your eyes, 
adjusting your position so that you're more comfortable. "Okay 
Mulder, tuck me in and give me a taste of that married bliss." 
   I'm too charmed by all this to refuse you and, still 
marvelling at what is happening to me, I do as you ask. You're 
asleep in minutes, but I remain awake for a long time after you've 
fallen asleep, memorising everything as I sit here in my apartment 
which for the very first time really feels like home. 
 
THE END 
 
09-08-1999 
Kirsten Kerkhof, The Netherlands ©