From: susanf34@comcast.net   
      
   *NO ARCHIVE*   
      
      
      
   **Headers, disclaimer, etc. can all be found in   
   chapter one.    susanf34@comcast.net   
      
      
   Chronology   
   by Susan   
   ~~~~   
      
   chapter five   
      
      
   He didn't wake up.   
      
   He held onto her hand, but he didn't wake up and   
   he didn't open his eyes or say her name or tell   
   her how happy he was to see her again.   
      
   He was still and he was quiet and he was not at   
   all like the Mulder she knew.   
      
   It was an involuntary spasm, an unconscious   
   movement by a comatose patient. Nothing more,   
   nothing less.   
      
   Or at least that's what the doctor told her before   
   he left ten minutes ago.   
      
   She refused to believe it at first, insisting that   
   Mulder really was holding onto her hand and that   
   he really did know it was her by his bedside.   
      
   But then she forced herself to accept the truth.   
      
   He wasn't any closer to waking up now than he was   
   when he was first found out in the woods.   
      
   And there was a chance he might never be.   
      
   Moving her chair as close as she could to his bed,   
   she took his hand in hers again, and closed her   
   eyes.   
      
   And she wept.   
      
   ~~~~   
      
   Reading to Mulder from his journal before and   
   saying his words out loud, she'd gotten a response   
   from him, and though she knew deep down that it   
   wasn't her voice that had caused his hand to latch   
   onto hers, she wasn't about to give up on him.   
      
   Not yet, not ever.   
      
   And so she read more.   
      
   About moth-men, the Great Mutato, Linda Bowman,   
   and the strange case of Karin Matthews and a   
   deep-rooted orchard full of dying trees.   
      
   And then there was his entry about the virtual   
   reality he'd been trapped in with Nurse Nancy   
   and her gang of bimbo nurses.   
      
   At least that's what she called them anyway.   
      
   "Of course, you'd have a virtual fantasy with   
   a bunch of hot looking women in it, Mulder," she   
   teased as she held the journal in one hand and   
   stroked his arm with the other. "Then again, I   
   was in it too so I guess I shouldn't complain,   
   huh?" she added, flattered that she was not only   
   a part of his fantasy, but that she got to kick   
   some ass in it too.   
      
   She studied his face, looking for a response to   
   her joke, but there was nothing.   
      
   No smile, no waggle of his eyebrows, no fluttering   
   beneath his eyelids.   
      
   There was nothing, and then there was panic.   
      
   What if she never got a response from him again?   
      
   What if he never opened his eyes, never said her   
   name, never held her in his arms during the middle   
   of the night again?   
      
   What if she never got to tell him about their baby?   
      
   "I'm not going to let that happen, Mulder. I'm not   
   going to let you die, I'm not..." she said firmly,   
   biting her lip as she picked up the other journal   
   and read some more.   
      
      
   XXXXXXXXXX   
   4/12/99   
      
   Dear Diary,   
      
   Today my heart leapt when Agent Scully suggested   
   spontaneous human combustion.   
      
   That's what I'd jokingly said to Scully earlier   
   today when we were discussing our latest case,   
   but to be honest, it was a body part further south   
   that did the leaping when she came up with that   
   theory.   
      
   Of course, I didn't admit that to her though.   
      
   Instead I went the smart-ass route the way I   
      
   usually do when I'm trying to hide my feelings,   
   and although the whole thing didn't seem like   
   that big of a deal to her, it was a damn big   
   deal to me.   
      
   Letting herself consider the possibility of   
   something out of the ordinary was huge, but the   
   fact that she actually shared the idea with me   
   was even bigger.   
      
   I wonder what she'll say when I tell her I think   
   Pinker Rawls can walk through walls.   
   XXXXXXXXXX   
      
      
   She remembered the morning he'd said those words   
   as if it had happened just yesterday, the way   
   his eyes had sparkled when he said her name, the   
   softness in his voice as he'd teased her about   
   her theory.   
      
   And how she felt her own heart leap as she let   
   his words wash over her.   
      
   Then again, it had always been that way between   
   them. The verbal sparring. The challenge of   
   wits. The constant debate between her scientific   
   theories and his paranormal explanations.   
      
   And yet it worked. *They* worked.   
      
   But now he'd been taken away from her, and nothing   
   in her life worked.   
      
   And nothing else in her life mattered right now   
   except seeing him open his eyes and look at her.   
      
   But when would that be?   
      
   An hour from now? A day? A week?   
      
   And when he finally did wake up, what would she   
   say to him?   
      
   Should she ask him if he remembered what happened   
   in the woods the night he was abducted? Should   
   she ask him to tell her if it was aliens that   
   took him away or someone from the government?   
      
   Or should she simply look into his eyes and tell   
   him that she loved him?   
      
   Of course, there was really only one right answer.   
   Now all that was left was the waiting.   
      
      
   XXXXXXXXXX   
   4/25/99   
      
   Left a message on Scully's answering machine a   
   couple hours ago asking her to come to the park   
   for a very early or very late birthday present,   
   and much to my surprise she came without calling   
   me back and questioning me about it first.   
      
   But that wasn't the only surprise she had for me.   
      
   Once she arrived at the field, not only did she   
   let me keep my arms around her the entire time   
   I was showing her how to hit a baseball, but she   
   also let me kiss her afterwards.   
      
   Earlier today, Arthur Dales told me that I should   
   start paying more attention to the mysteries of   
   the heart, and tonight, I think I found out just   
   what he meant by that.   
      
   Now I just need to figure out what the hell I'm   
   supposed to do next...   
   XXXXXXXXXX   
      
      
   2:03 am   
      
      
   "You were supposed to kiss me again, Mulder,"   
   she said, looking down at his battered face and   
   brushing his hair off his forehead. "And not wait   
   six months to do it," she added as she closed her   
   eyes and thought back to the kiss they shared on   
   New Year's Eve.   
      
   Of course, they'd both recently been attacked by   
   zombies and were somewhat woozy at the time, but   
   still, it was one of the sweetest and most tender   
   kisses she'd ever had.   
      
   And it was a kiss she'd always cherish, not   
   because it occurred at the start of the new year,   
   but because it occurred at a time in their lives   
   when their relationship was just beginning to   
   evolve into something more personal.   
      
   "You told me that the world didn't end that night,   
   and it's not going to end here for you tonight   
   or any other night, Mulder," she said, picking   
   up his hand and kissing the back of it. "I don't   
   care what the doctor says or what anyone else   
   says. You're going to open your eyes again...and   
   I'm going to stay here until you do," she added   
   as she held his hand to her cheek and shut her   
   eyes.   
      
   "Agent Scully."   
      
   Her eyes immediately opened at the sound of her   
   boss's voice, but she didn't move from her chair   
   or let go of Mulder's hand. She simply asked him   
   what she needed to know.   
      
   "Benjamin Meade was abducted, wasn't he?"   
      
   "The official autopsy report states that he was   
   attacked by a wild animal out in the woods,   
   possibly a coyote or bear," he replied, taking   
   hold of the chair against the wall and pulling   
   it over next to hers, then sitting down.   
      
   "But that's not what really happened to him,"   
   she stated, keeping her eyes focused on Mulder.   
      
   "No, and the coroner said as much. He implied   
   that the injuries Meade sustained were much too   
   precise to be caused by an animal attack. He also   
      
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