From: char@chaffin.com   
      
   AND THE WALLS CAME TUMBLING DOWN   
   A BTT "Title-Tag" fic   
   By Char Chaffin   
   MSR, angst   
   Rating:  R   
   Spoilers:  Takes place right around "Redux" time frame, then goes   
   off in its own little direction -   
      
   Thanks to Maggie for the tag title!   
      
   Also thanks to Shelba for late-night beta and much enthusiasm   
      
      
      
   "And the Walls Came Tumbling Down"   
      
   Part One - Scully   
      
      
      
   Strange, the way it took almost-certain death, before she got what   
   she most wanted of life.   
      
   She'd lived her thirty-something years weaving toward one basic   
   goal: that of life, love and happiness, success and contentment.  She   
   never asked for more, indeed her upbringing had always taught her   
   that a humble approach to life was the right approach.  She tried not   
   to think more of herself than she really was; tried to be a good   
   child, a decent teenager, a responsible adult.  Tried to be the best   
   at whatever career she fell into.  When that career demanded she   
   become someone's partner, she was determined to be the best partner   
   ever.   
      
   And she was.  In that respect, she certainly was.  She watched his   
   back.  She mended his cuts and soothed his soul when in his single-   
   minded quest he bit off far more than he could possibly chew.  She   
   swallowed anger when his selfishness left her behind, when it   
   denigrated her importance as one half of their professional whole.   
   She defended him, she befriended him.  She sympathized, empathized,   
   cauterized.   
      
   And inevitably... she idolized.   
      
   She never saw it coming.  In fact, it completely blindsided her.   
   His friendship was vital and the thought she could take it any   
   further had not occurred to her. He was passionate.  Maddening.   
   Frustrating. Over-brilliant, under-loved, low on self-esteem yet   
   fanatically overconfident in his abilities to do the hardest and more   
   unpleasant aspects of his job.  He teased her, loaded her with   
   innuendo and bad puns.  He called at odd hours, postulating the   
   weirdest suppositions, the most far-fetched explanations.  He drove   
   her batty.   
      
   He also held her, kept her together... kept her sane. Most of all,   
   he needed her.  And it had been a very long time since anyone had   
   needed her like that.   
      
   The day she discovered she was in love with him, wanted him... came   
   almost one day too late.   
      
   **************   
      
   She sat in yet another examining room, pulling on her clothes,   
   buttoning up a blouse smeared with drops of blood and stairwell   
   grime.  Her ears rang with her brother's denouncement of her chosen   
   career, her designated partner's shortcomings.  She still smarted   
   from having to once more defend her position in the Bureau, in her   
   overall life. She couldn't help but replay some of the conversation   
   they'd had; couldn't avoid wondering the same as what had been said   
   aloud...   
      
   If Mulder cared so much, then why wasn't he by her side?   
      
     She thought it with fierce aggression. Because he was   
   off fighting yet another battle, righting yet another wrong, or at   
   least trying to.  He was covering her presence at his side, doing   
   double duty while she stood in an exam room and forced enough energy   
   to finish dressing and pick up the threads of her own responsibility.   
   Added to the overall, overwhelming feelings of ineptitude she   
   suddenly found herself harboring, was the numbing thought that if she   
   had to go another day without telling him how she really felt about   
   him, it would kill her faster than any cancer presently eating up her   
   body.   
      
   Love.  It had knocked her sideways while she stood and fought with   
   her brother, and as previously-mentioned she never saw it coming,   
   never felt it invade her.  Her eyes had widened and she'd broken out   
   in an actual sweat.  All she could see were those wide hazel eyes,   
   that strong jawline, that sumptuous mouth.  All she could hear was   
   the memory of that rough honey voice in her ear, murmuring any manner   
   of partnerly nonsense into her reluctantly-amused personal space.   
   She could smell him, that pure male scent of cotton, starch, musky   
   skin and a touch of soap.  She might have even been able to taste   
   him... if in that moment she'd known what his taste was like.   
      
   She wanted nothing more in this life than to touch him, just reach   
   out with two hands and ten trembling fingers - and place them   
   anywhere on his body.  If Mulder had been standing in front of her   
   just then, he would have received the shock of a lifetime, because   
   she wouldn't have been able to stop or control herself.  It was that   
   strong.  It hit her that hard.   
      
   Something else that hit her was the utter irony of it. Her life was   
   in precarious balance with a dark and dangerous force of nature   
   within her.  She was dying. She could barely accept the truth of it,   
   was trying to be practical and pragmatic.  She would leave this earth   
   not knowing the heaven of Mulder's kiss, the ease of his lovemaking   
   and the merging of his soul, to hers. She'd leave without feeling   
   life blossom inside her womb, the life he put there.   
      
   It was intolerable.  Unacceptable.  Unavoidable... unless she did   
   something about it.  Oh, she could fight the good fight, and she   
   would.  She'd already decided not to give up.  She determined her   
   partner wouldn't give up either, for she knew just how relentless he   
   could be.  She'd go down fighting, better believe it - just as she'd   
   find a way to tell him how she felt, and what she wanted.  She'd fill   
   herself with his life-force, and she'd love him for an entire   
   lifetime, in the short lifetime she had left.  She would.   
      
   If only she could convince him; make him believe.  Make him accept   
   it was something they both needed, were worthy of having.   
      
   ***********************   
      
   In actuality, it was harder than she'd imagined, to get him to hear   
   what she wanted to tell him.  To show him.  He'd already begun   
   building his defenses, and she'd have bet money he wasn't even aware   
   of doing it.   
      
   They'd had a tiring week, and their early-evening office   
   conversation had been curiously hollow and bland.  It was as if each   
   had been so steeped in their own private anxiety they'd been   
   reluctant to get too close.  It happened that way sometimes, and it   
   was acceptable only because they could spew banalities with their   
   mouths but their eyes always filled in the blanks when they locked   
   gazes.   
      
   But now...   
      
   She could somehow read his mind whenever he glanced her way; his   
   expression was that transparent.  It said, 'My fault.  I did this.'   
   He may as well have shouted it aloud.  The words were echoed in the   
   way he tried so hard not to bother her, irritate her; even his   
   teasing had gentled to something less than the innuendo she'd grown   
   accustomed to.  The silences stretched between them; she hated it.   
   And she was just waiting for him to verbalize it; anticipating the   
   moment when he snapped up the guilt, ladled it all over himself, and   
   began mortaring a wall with the defenses he'd collected.  As a matter   
   of fact, she had a suspicion he'd already begun.   
      
   Over her dead body, would he continue.   
      
   "Mulder.  Stop it."   
      
   His head jerked up and he met her determined stare with one of   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)