She Loves Me Not (1/2)
by Jo-Ann Lassiter
Email Address: jolassi555@cs.com 
Spoiler Warning:  None
Rating: PG-13 
Classification: S, A
Key Words: Mulder/Scully Romance
Summary: Mulder tells Scully he loves her, but the sentiment is not
reciprocated. Can they still work together?
Author's Note: This story carries a severe sap alert.
Thanks: To Gerry, Cheryl, lore, and Jill for beta reading. 

I am two fools, I know, for loving, and saying so. - John Donne

On the road to National Airport
Washington, D.C.
Tuesday
6:50 p.m.

"Achoo!" 

Mulder had been dozing, and the explosive sneeze was a thoroughly
rude awakening. For Scully, too, it seemed, as she nearly hit the
roof--which was quite an accomplishment, even if it was
unintentional. "Sorry," he sniffed.

"Bless you. Mulder, are you sure you ought to be traveling?" Scully
took her eyes off the road to gaze at him in concern, and he felt
warm all over.

"It's just a cold, Scully." He pulled out his handkerchief and blew
his nose. "People travel with colds all the time."

"And infect the passengers around them." Her frown only diminished
his glow a few degrees.

"I promise I won't breathe on you." He sneezed into his
handkerchief. "Or sneeze on you." Another sneeze. "If the plane's
not full, I'll even sequester myself away from all the other
passengers."

She gave him a sideways glance. "That might not be a bad idea."

He had been joking. He had been looking forward to the three-hour
flight to Denver sitting next to his partner. "Um... yeah."

"Don't look so dejected." She patted his knee. "I'm sure you've
already infected me, so I'll sit next to you."

He felt warm again. A good warm. The best warm. Scully loved him.
He was tired, he was irritable, and he didn't feel well. If there
was ever a time for her to keep her distance, this was it. Yet she
didn't. She told him to sleep while she drove, she let him keep the
heat on 'high' even though she was sweltering, and just a second
ago she looked at him so... intimately.

"Hey, Scully," he said, very quietly.

She darted a look his way before returning her attention to the DC
traffic. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

It seemed to him that she'd stopped breathing. Certainly she'd
ceased all movement. He wondered if he'd managed to shock her and
then decided that, yeah, he'd most definitely shocked her. Hell,
he'd shocked himself. After all these years, after all they'd been
through, it took a sneeze to discover she loved him. Granted, it
was one hell of a sneeze, but it was one hell of a discovery.

"Scully?"

"What, Mulder?" He blinked at the flatness of her tone. Was this
the voice of a woman about to profess her undying love to him?

"Did you hear what I said?" When she kept on driving and didn't
acknowledge him this time, he began to worry. Is it possible she
just didn't hear him? Either time? "I said--"

"I don't want to have this discussion with you."

All the air left his lungs. His heart stopped beating in his chest.

She didn't love him.  

He loved her, and she didn't love him back.

*****

National Airport
Washington, D.C.
7:10 p.m.

Scully parked in long-term, and he picked up their bags and carried
them to the terminal. After they checked their bags with the
skycap, they proceeded to their gate, Mulder walking slightly ahead
of her, never letting her catch up.

He didn't want to see her face, didn't want to see the pity, or the
repulsion, or the indifference. Whichever it was, he didn't want to
know. She didn't love him back. The reason really didn't matter.

Almost to the gate, he noticed the absence of her heels clicking
after him. He slowed, then stopped, then looked behind him. Scully
was about fifty feet back, paying for a carton of juice and a small
coffee. He waited while she accepted the bag and walked up to him.

"I got you some orange juice," she said, and she sounded so much
like herself that he wished the floor would open up and swallow
him. Obviously she received confessions of love on a daily basis.

"Thanks," he said, attributing his unsteady voice to his cold.

He let her precede him through Security, then followed her to the
waiting area. "Why don't you let me check you in?" she asked,
holding out her hand, glancing over at the people standing in line.
"You look like you're about to fall over."

No kidding, he thought, nodding and lowering himself into a chair.
He dug his ticket and ID out of his pocket and handed them to her.
Their eyes met, and he had to look away before he embarrassed
himself. 

Her eyes were full of pity.

"Here, Mulder." She used the same tone of voice he'd once heard her
use on her dog after the poor thing had been begging for some
attention. She handed him the bag. "Drink some juice. It'll help
your cold."

Taking the bag, he forced a smile onto his face. "Sure, Scully."
She left to join the crowd, and he fumbled with the carton, vainly
trying to pull out the 'easy spout.' Finally, in frustration, he
let the container drop to his lap unopened.

She didn't love him.

He stared at the orange juice carton until a drop of water splashed
onto it. Startled, he glanced quickly over at Scully, relieved and
then hurt, when he saw her engaged in friendly conversation with
the nice-looking man in front of her. Mulder placed the carton of
juice and the bag on the seat next to him. He rose, walked away
from her, and didn't stop walking until he found himself staring at
a wall at the end of the terminal. Suddenly faced with absolutely
nothing to distract his mind, his thoughts returned to Scully;
numbness metamorphosed to despair, and he looked around frantically
for a men's room. 

All doors he scanned proclaimed, "No Admittance," and Mulder had to
return to the main concourse before he found one. Shouldering the
door open, he turned away, embarrassed, when the scholarly-type
washing his hands met Mulder's red-eyed reflection in the mirror.
Striding quickly to a stall, he stepped inside and locked the door;
he leaned into the wall and closed his eyes until he heard the
footsteps fade away and the outside door open and close. He took a
deep breath and was horrified at the sob that came out when he
exhaled. Angry with himself, he tore off a piece of toilet paper
and blew his running nose, then slammed his palm against the wall.

How could he be so stupid? Of course she didn't love him. What had
he been thinking? That because she'd been kind to him she loved
him? Where the hell were his brains?
Scully could never love him. He realized that now. He could admit
it to himself. He could think it without his heart being torn apart
strip by bloody strip.

She didn't love him.

Oh, Jesus, she didn't love him.

*****

When Mulder sat back down in his seat, Scully handed him an open
carton of juice with a straw sticking up out of it. The
nice-looking man was nowhere in sight.

"Did you have a pleasant walk?" Her voice was tight with anger, and
he looked up.

"I had to use the bathroom." He furrowed his brows, confused.

"You couldn't wait a few minutes?" The intensity of her gaze was
making him nervous.

He looked away. "No."

"All right, then. Here." She slapped his ticket and ID case onto
his lap. 

Still puzzled, he looked down. "What's this?"

"Since you're so full of energy, you can stand in line."

He searched her eyes. "But I thought you were going to--"

"You weren't in your seat, Mulder. You may be an FBI agent, but you
aren't exempt from the check-in procedures."

It finally clicked. *Did you pack your own bags?* * Did anyone ask
you to carry anything for them?* The security questions. He wasn't
there to answer them. "Yes, of course." He gathered up his
belongings, discarded the untouched juice in the nearest barrel and
shuffled to the end of the line. Only two men were ahead of him,
and in less than five minutes he dropped back in his seat next to
his partner. 

"The flight's practically empty," he told her. "They said we could
sit in the last row."

She nodded. "I know. I asked, too, before you did your disappearing
act."

He remained silent. He really wasn't up to sparring with her. 

"You owe me two dollars."

"What?"

"For the juice you threw away. It cost two dollars."

"Oh." He extracted his wallet and sifted through the bills.
Hesitating only a fraction of a second, he pulled out a five dollar
bill, then turned his head away and sneezed. "Excuse me." He held
the five out.. "I don't have any ones. Take the... Achoo!" He
sniffed. "Take this so I can..." Another sneeze. "...get my..."
Another. He let the money fall onto his lap while he reached for
his handkerchief and blew his nose, then slumped back, exhausted.

"God bless you." Scully held out the five to him, and he was
puzzled by the apology in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mulder. You don't
really have to pay me for the juice."

He pushed it away. "No, no. You're right. You were nice enough to
buy it for me, and I threw it away without even touching it." He
closed her hand around the bill. "Keep it. In case you feel the
need to make another purchase." He made an attempt at a smile.

"Mulder, you don't--"

"Please keep it, Scully. I really don't have the energy to put it
back in my wallet."

He closed his eyes against compassion he couldn't bear to see. Why
did he have to love her? Why couldn't she love him? He moistened
his lips; he hated having to breathe through his mouth. His lips
always ended up dry and cracked.  He swallowed and then was sorry
he did as the saliva burned a hot trail down his enflamed
esophagus. He wished he hadn't thrown the juice away. Absently, he
patted his pockets, wondering if he'd taken his lip balm. And
didn't he have a package of throat lozenges somewhere?

He started awake when the announcement to board rows 25 and higher
blasted from the speaker directly above him. His heart was still
pounding when he felt Scully's hand cover his. Unable to shake the
cobwebs from his head, he turned to gaze at her. 

"That's us, Mulder," she said softly. "Come on. Let's go." Standing
up, she brushed the wrinkles out of her suit pants and headed for
the ramp. 

Mulder watched her walk away, then realized that he was supposed to
be following her. By the time he stood up, several passengers had
come between him and his partner. When he reached the attendant,
Scully was standing off to the side, scowling at him. 

"Here he is," she told the woman.

Mulder produced his ticket and showed his ID, then pulled his
jacket aside to reveal  his firearm. The airline employee handed
him his boarding pass and  nodded him through. He walked over to
Scully and followed her to the plane.

"Where the hell were you?" she whispered as they moved down the
ramp. Her tone was unmistakably annoyed. "I told her my partner was
right behind me, and some guy almost fainted when she asked to see
his weapon."

"For Christ's sakes, Scully. Give me a break, will you? I just woke
up. I can't help it if you're three leaps ahead of me."

She seemed to take a good look at him then, and Mulder wished he'd
never said a word when he saw it again: the pity. 

He pushed ahead of her, nodding to the flight attendants as he
boarded the plane. Eyes down, he hurried through First Class to the
very rear of the plane. He stopped when he heard her behind him.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to stretch out and sleep." He moved
his head only enough so that she could hear him clearly.

"How are you feeling?" Her tone was so gentle, so caring. He hated
it. He loved it.

"I feel fine," he said, and he was surprised that the lie came out
sounding so convincing.

"Mulder..."

He lifted the seat dividers from in between each of the three
seats. "I'm really tired, Scully." He climbed in and curled atop
the seats, his back to her. 
 
She sighed, and he heard her moving away, down the aisle, back to
her own seat in 14A. He was relieved she would be so far away,
although a part of him still wanted her near. A part of him would
always want her near. 

He wished he could die.

*****

On board the flight to Denver
9:30 p.m.

An ungodly screech jolted Mulder out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He
sat up abruptly, blinking in the dim cabin light.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't realize anyone was back here." A young
woman holding a crying baby was speaking to him, and Mulder wasn't
sure he'd caught everything she'd said.

"Um... that's okay," he mumbled, wincing as the screaming still
assailed his ears. "What's wrong with... her?"

The woman smiled grimly. "Him. And I don't know what's wrong. He's
been crying since we took off."

Mulder nodded. As a veteran of more flights than he cared to
remember, he had an idea of what the problem could be. "How long
have we been in the air?" he asked. He had no clue as to how long
he'd been asleep.

The woman didn't look at her watch. "About an hour." She looked
totally frazzled.

"I think it might be his ears," Mulder told her. "Did you give him
a bottle?"

She shook her head. "It's not time for him to eat yet." Then he saw
it dawn on her. "Oh, of course. He doesn't know enough to swallow
against the air pressure." She smiled at him. "Thank you very
much." Her gaze drifted to the blanket that sat bunched in his lap.
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I hope you feel better."

Mulder didn't want to think about how bad he must look if a mother
who'd been dealing with an hysterical infant noticed enough to
comment. He smiled weakly and nodded as the young woman made her
way to the front of the plane. 

For the first time, he noticed the pillows that his head had been
resting upon and the blankets spread over him. Scully? Who else on
the plane cared enough about him to take care of him? Who else
anywhere cared enough about him at all?

He lay back down but found that he was wide awake. He sat up and
looked along the aisle to row 14. Not bothering to put his shoes
back on--he added yet another item to his list of thanks for his
partner--he headed toward her.

Maybe he'd join her for awhile. He'd been rude to her after they'd
boarded, and he'd never get a better opportunity to apologize than
right now. Besides, even if she didn't feel anything for him, he
still loved her. And now that he was awake, it was lonely back
there by himself. He needed a little human companionship of the
Scully kind.

He heard her before he saw her. She was laughing. He supposed it
could be because she was reading a really humorous book. But he
didn't think so.

He moved close enough to recognize the nice-looking man from the
check-in counter. Sitting next to Scully. In Mulder's seat. He
stared, stunned. Scully never laughed at his jokes anymore. She
hardly laughed about anything with him.

He felt cold all of a sudden, and exposed, and yearned for the
anonymity the back row would afford him. Before he could take a
step, though, he felt a tickling in his nose and, try as he might,
he couldn't prevent the sneeze.

As he stumbled toward the rear, he could have sworn he heard
Scully's voice. "I know that sneeze," it said.

But, no. He'd seen the look on her face. He'd heard her laughter.
She was with a man who wasn't him, and she was having fun. She
wouldn't be attuned to a partner with a head cold and a man she
didn't love.

Falling into the seat, he pulled out his handkerchief and kept it
handy until his sneezing stopped. He lay down and cradled his
pounding head. And then he remembered and he hurt all over. 
   
"Mulder?"

He was too surprised to even think about hiding his feelings from
her. "Scully?" All he could do was stare up at her. His eyes darted
behind her; he half expected to see Nice-Looking-Man bringing up
the rear.

Suddenly her eyes widened and she went still. "He's not behind me,
is he?" she whispered.

Mulder spared another glance to the aisle. "Who?"

"That guy. He didn't follow me, did he?"

Mulder was thoroughly confused. "No, but..."

She breathed out, and he felt her relief. "Thanks for rescuing me,
partner."

He nodded, still bewildered. "You didn't look like you needed
rescuing," he said softly.

"Looks can be deceiving, Mulder. You know that."

He did. Yet he had the feeling that she was referring to something
else entirely. 

It suddenly occurred to him that Scully was truly standing there;
she had left Nice-Looking-Man and come to him. But why?

He sat up and moved over, and she lowered herself into the seat
next to him. "Head hurt?" she asked.

Wondering how she knew, and then realizing that he'd been peering
at her through squinting eyes, he nodded. "I was going to take a
couple of aspirin."

"You have some?" She sounded surprised.

"I have a whole drug store," he answered, only slightly annoyed.

"Well, you get them out, and I'll get you a cup of water." She had
only to stand up and pivot to reach the water.

Mulder stood up to look for his suit coat in the overhead. The
jacket was at the very back of the compartment, neatly folded.
Pulling it out, he looked at his partner. "How did you get this way
back there?" Without missing a beat, he asked, "How did you get
this off me? Didn't I fall asleep wearing it?"

"To answer your second question, Don Juan--that guy who was sitting
with me--helped me get you out of it. To answer your first
question, he put it there." She heaved a mighty sigh. "And I had to
make polite conversation with him for over an hour."

"I guess it was lucky for you I woke up then."

She looked down, and she looked embarrassed. "Um, yes. Yes, it
was." Her eyes met his, and she looked so miserable he wanted to
take her in his arms and kiss away whatever was bothering her. But
that was out of the question. 

"Mulder, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"The mother. The baby. I sent them back here."

"You?" He was flabbergasted. That shriek had nearly given him a
coronary. He had a splitting headache, his legs felt like rubber,
and he considered himself a good candidate for zombie of the year.
Yet it brought a smile to his heart. Scully had sent the mother and
the screaming baby back here. To wake him. She had not wanted Don
Juan. She wanted Mulder. Did she love him after all? Or did she
just need the help of a friend? The friend he was. The friend he'd
always be.

And nothing else.

The thought hit him square between the eyes, and everything swayed
suddenly; he sat down in the seat quickly.

"Mulder? Are you okay?" She sat next to him, and he nodded, feeling
not entirely there. 

"Sorry. It must be the cold and the altitude." He closed his eyes.

She started to dig through the pockets of the jacket from where it
was resting on his lap, her hands brushing against his legs and
groin. He felt his eyes burning when he thought about how he was
the only one for whom that action held any significance.

"Hey." Her voice was soft, and he forced his eyes open. He had to
see her face. To see her kindness, or compassion, or even pity. He
just had to see that she cared about him, if not as a lover, then
as a friend. He had to know that it wasn't over, that she would
continue on with him, even though he loved her.

She was worried about him--he could see it in her eyes--but she was
also smiling, and he got the distinct impression that she was
trying very hard not to laugh at him. Her gaze left his, and he
followed it down to her lap.

She had his entire supply spread out on her legs. Bottles, boxes
and packages of aspirin, cold pills, cough syrup, throat lozenges,
fever reducer, and anti-nausea capsules. "Think you have enough
medicine here, Mulder?"

Ordinarily, he would have tossed off her teasing with a shrug and
a bit of witty repartee. Ordinarily, he would have found her
amusement only mildly irksome. But ordinarily he wouldn't have just
declared his love to her. He wouldn't have taken her jab so much to
heart--a shattered, bruised, mangled heart.

He stared stonily at her; he resented her joke at his expense. He
resented her for not loving him.

"I, um... Here." She held out three aspirin in her open palm.

Gathering up the pills, he popped all three into his mouth then
took the water from her and swallowed them. They hurt going down,
and it felt good. Physical pain was easier to tolerate and didn't
last nearly as long. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Mulder?"

He looked up. There were tears in her eyes. And pity.

"I'm sorry."

He blinked. Oh, Jesus. 

It was official. She'd severed that one slim thread to which he'd
been clinging. The one that held tight to the fact that she'd never
actually come right out and told him. 

He nodded numbly. "It's okay," he said, and he was shocked by the
sympathy he felt for her. "Come here," he said softly, holding his
arms open. He wasn't surprised when she came unhesitatingly. 

"Oh, Mulder..." she cried into his chest. She hugged him fiercely.

He clung to her just as possessively. "It's all right, Scully.
It'll be all right."

"I don't want to hurt you."

He kissed the top of her head. "Too late."

Blearily, she looked up at him. "I do love you, Mulder. Just not in
the way you want me to."

He blinked furiously to hold the tears in check; he had to swallow
before he could speak. "I know." A smile eked out. "That's the only
thing that keeps me going." 

He gathered her into his embrace and held her until they fell
asleep.

*****

End 1/2