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Title: Ice Queen Melting Summary: The Ice Queen Melts and guess who is there with a sponge. Monday February 11, 1999 Special Agent Dana Scully sat in her office. Fallen victim to an "electrical fire," the basement office which she shared with Special Agent Fox Mulder had been newly renovated and Scully finally sat at her own desk. Alone, she stared at the picture on her new desk. A four-year-old smiled in delight at the birthday cake before her. A man in a suit lit a cigarette as he watched the monitor intently. "I'll get them," she said out loud, to the picture, to herself, promising "I *will* get them back, I *will* find the truth." Her voice echoed through the speakers to which the smoking man listened. She touched the picture of the child she lost, the child she had but never did. The child who was her only hope for a legacy to behind; lost. Knowing her partner was gone for the day, Scully moved a never-touched box off a shelf a little lower than her shoulder height as if looking for something. She ran her hand over the now exposed wall. With one swift, graceful, calculated move, she put her fist clear through the white plaster. Feeling herself boil she promised through gritted teeth, "So help me, I will." The Smoking Man addressed his colleagues, "Agent Scully will soon become a nuisance," he took a drag from his cigarette, "Her hunger for the truth is becoming as strong as Mulder's." "Separate them," one man suggested. "Separate them and their need for the truth," he puffed his cigarette "their need for *each other* will grow. We must break her." "How?" another man asked. "The human child." He put out his cigarette. Tuesday February 12 "Scully," the petite redhead said as she answered the ringing telephone. "Yeah, sure, we'll be down in a minute." She turned to her tall, well-built partner, "Mulder, that was some Agent Woodroffe in the sub basement. He said he found something related to one of our cases." "We may as well check it out," he said as he grabbed his suit jacket and lead the way downstairs. "Agent Woodroffe?" Scully called into the maze of shelves and rooms. No answer. She looked at Mulder, he simply shrugged. She turned a corner to see the door to an illuminated room. "Mulder," she called, "Over here." They walked a few hundred feet to the door. Without looking through the small window in the door, Mulder knocked calling, "Woodroffe?" Waiting for an answer, Scully looked through the rectangular window. "Oh my G-d!" She couldn't believe what she saw. "Mulder?Emily, my?it's my Emily?" The four-year-old sat in the far corner of the room, holding a doll. Above her, an air conditioning grate. Emily began to cough as a thin, white gas seeped from the vent. "Oh G-d, Mulder, get help, I'll get the door." Mulder ran upstairs as Scully threw all 112 pounds of her body into opening the door. Inside the room, Emily lay on the floor, barely breathing. "Hang on, baby, hang on." Tears streamed down Scully's cheeks as she charged the door. It was no use. Despite the risk of being hit by a ricochet, she stood back, took aim, and fired at the lock, letting the door swing open. The cloud of gas assaulted her lungs, but Scully burst in, stumbling toward the unconscious toddler. She swept Emily up in her arms. "Mommy?" the girl whispered with a labored breath. "I'm here." Scully coughed as she ambled toward the door. Scully hit the floor in the breathable area of the sub-basement wheezing. "Somebody...help...help?" as she lost consciousness. Scully awoke with a start in a hospital bed. "Emily?!?" She gasped. Mulder squeezed her hand "How are you feeling?" his voice was low and concerned. "Where is she?" was all she said, praying not to see the expression on Mulder's face she next observed. Scully's face went pale. "No, Mulder, no?" she pleaded with him, as if there were something he could do. "She," he began, fighting tears of his own "she inhaled too much of that gas, they can't identify it, and they couldn't?there was nothing they could do. " Scully shook her head slowly in disbelief. "No, she's my only..." She couldn't finish, her eyes pleaded with Mulder's, which offered to retraction of the painful truth. An icy hand crushed her heart. The walls of the room, this room of loss, of broken hopes, began to close in on her. She swallowed the pain. "Mulder, take me home," she said quietly. "Scully, you're-" "I can't stay here Mulder!" she yelled, "Get me out of here!" He nodded understandingly. Scully was nearly catatonic with guilt, misery, loss, and anger. Mulder had to buckle her seatbelt and close the door for her. She was silent for the entire ride to her apartment. Mulder had to help her out of the car and up the stairs. He unlocked and opened the apartment door. He led her to the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. He reached into her hip holster and retrieved her service weapon. "Where's the sig?" he asked, referring to her personal defense pistol. "Top drawer," she muttered. "And the other?" "Living room." Mulder removed Scully's three guns and entire knife drawer from her apartment and secured them in the trunk of his car. He returned to find her crouched in front of the toilet, vomiting. "Leave me alone," she sobbed leaning against the bath tub. "I won't," he said, gently lifting her off the floor. Embarrassed, she weakly tried to push him away before nearly passing out. Mulder lifted Scully in his strong arms and put her down on her bed. He took off her jacket and shoes and layed her down. He retrieved a glass of water and a cool, damp washcloth. Propping her up against his chest, he gave her the water and blotted her face with the washcloth. Scully slowly returned from her catatonia. "Mmmmm?" she whimpered on the edge of tears. She couldn't believe her current state, her weakness, that she was letting Mulder blot sweat off her face, like a sick child. "Mulder?" she asked weakly. "Yeah," he sat her up more. "I'm here." "No," she groaned, trying to hide her face from him. "No, Mulder, go." Seeing the emotional pain twisted on her face brought him concern and made him hesitant to go. "Mulder, please, leave me," she begged, barely holding back tears, trying to bury her face in a pillow so he couldn't see her. Mulder knew how Scully tried to keep her emotions bottled up inside, tried to hide her true feelings to maintain a façade of strength. "Scully," he said, putting his hand supportively on her shoulder, "You don't have to hide from me." No, she couldn't let herself be weak, she couldn't let her partner, for whom she had to be strong see her this weak. She mustered all of her diminished physical strength and pushed him away, nearly knocking him over. "Dammit Mulder!" she yelled, kneeling on the bed, sobbing. "Get out!" She bowed her head in shame, tears rolling down her face "Please." She whimpered. He nodded and turned, walking out of Scully's apartment. She heard the door click shut. Covering her face with her hands, she let a wail of incomparable sorrow escape her small body. More sobs begged to escape but she pushed them back. "There's no point," she told herself. "There's nothing I can do." But the sobs would not be held at bay, they would not listed to reason. They pushed their way to the surface and overcame Scully's tiny, now frail seeming body; throwing her to the bed. Wednesday, February 13 Scully awoke dutifully with her six-o'clock alarm, still curled up in the center of her bed, still wearing her suit pants and silk blouse. She woke after a night of dreams of mysterious men in dark suits ripping babies from her arms. Dreams of women holding newborns in their arms and wrathfully exclaiming to her "None for you!" Scully pretended to wash it all away with herbal soap and a hot shower. She pretended to let the immense feelings of guilt, remorse, sorrow, and emptiness slide down the drain amidst soap suds. Scully told herself that she was forgoing her normal corn muffin and coffee breakfast because she was out of coffee and a dry corn muffin by itself is boring. "Good morning, Mulder." She began, "You wouldn't believe the morning I've had, so far. First, I ran out of coffee and then traffic?" her eyes caught the pleading look of concern in his and she cut off, but continued, "tr-traffic on the beltway was impossible." She stopped herself. "I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear me rant about traffic. How's *your* morning been?" He couldn't believe the ease with which Scully was putting on this facade, how she was just selectively ignoring these memories and feelings. Mulder's concern for his partner, his best friend, grew. "Mulder?" He realized he's been musing for noticeable moments, "Oh, uh, my morning's been pretty routine. If you missed your morning cup of coffee, I can go grab you a cup." "No," she waved a dismissive hand. "Thanks, though. I'm fine." "There it is," Mulder thought, "Her infamous 'I'm fine.'" Going through papers and files on her desk and making idle chatter, Scully refused to make eye contact. That told Mulder everything. He knew that she knew that the moment she looked in his eyes he'd see the pain, he'd see weakness, and she couldn't let that happen. The day went on uneventfully, about 12:30, Mulder said "Hey, you wanna do lunch?" He turned to his partner. "There's a new sandwich shop down the street." She looked up from the case file she was reading. "You know Mulder, I'd love to, but I've got a lot to get done." Not knowing what to say at this obvious defense mechanism, Mulder simply agreed and left. "Hey Scully, heads up!" She looked up just in time to catch a flying ball of paper. Mulder answered her inquiring look with "Corned beef, I thought you might be hungry." Although touched by her partner's thoughtfulness, Scully couldn't bring herself to eat. She put the sandwich aside and went back to her stack of case files. "So, Scully, what was so important that you passed up lunch?" "What? Oh, lunch. Um?well, I had to, uh, go help Agent" "A blood sample?" he wasn't buying it, and she knew it. "Yeah." Think "He thought he saw some odd proteins and just *had* to have me look at it right away." "And?" Mulder raised an eyebrow. "It was nothing, just some rhinovirus at a weird angle." Mulder was almost impressed at Scully's cover-up. "Oh." Was his only response. Thursday, February 14 Scully was greeted in the morning by Mulder, sitting in his desk chair, both hands hidden and a big, goofy grin spread across his handsome face. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What's gotten into you?" He stood up, hands still behind his back, and crossed the room. Scully kept her eyes on her partner as he revealed what he was hiding behind his back. "Happy Valentines Day!" he said as he presented the bouquet of yellow roses. Yellow for friendship. "Oh, Mulder, you didn't have to." She embraced him. "G-d, he smells good. And why the hell does he have to be so suave?" she thought to herself as she hugged him. She put her briefcase down on her desk and proceeded to rifle through it, she produced a blue envelope. "Here," she half smiled, "Happy Valentines day." On the cover was an over-weight, middle-aged, unshaven cupid smoking a cigar. The caption read "Happy freakin' Valentines Day." Mulder opened the card. Inside was printed "Nothing says 'I care' quite like a card." with Scully's signature at the bottom. Mulder pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek, "Gee Scully, I'm touched." He flashed that grin at her again. They hugged again. All this time, though, through the flowers, the card, and both hugs, Mulder noticed that Scully never made eye contact. Yet again the day went on uneventfully and Scully refused lunch for the second day in a row. This time on the grounds of meeting her brother, Bill jr., across town. Friday, she was gone on an "appointment" by 11:30 so Mulder never got the opportunity to offer lunch. That entire evening after work Mulder sat on his couch at home, pondering Scully's action's over the past few days. He realized the pain she was feeling, but she was dealing with it in such an unhealthy manner. She hadn't eaten since Tuesday, she wouldn't make eye contact with him and she hadn't said anything about getting her guns or knives back. She wouldn't tell him how she felt. Mulder feared for Scully's mental health. She had to let it out, she had to vent these feelings before she did something drastic. Mulder knew she wasn't going to do it on her own. Scully sat alone in her apartment, typing away at her computer. Her dulling blue eyes framed by wire-rimmed reading glasses. It was 9:30 on Friday night and she still wore a silk blouse and suit pants. She still couldn't bring herself to eat or drink anything. The knock at the door startled her. "It's me!" She heard from the other side. "Come in, Mulder," she responded to his familiar voice. He walked in and took notice of the yellow roses he had given her sitting in a vase on the coffee table. He then retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen. He handed her the glass and said firmly. "Drink it." "Mulder, I'm not thirsty." "Drink it, you haven't eaten anything since Tuesday." "Who are you? My dietitian?" He glared at her. She gave in and started to drink it. "Oh," He started, "Do you want some ice in that?" Her lack of food making her irritable, Scully snapped, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She put the drink down. "Don't you want that to be a bit *colder*?" he asked, looking straight into her eyes, looking for the anger and sadness that begged to get out. She stood up, trying to find words to voice her anger with him. "What's the matter, Scully, chilly enough already?" "So you and the whole fucking bureau are in on this 'Ice Queen' thing, huh, Mulder? Just because I don't loose it every time things don't go my way!" Mulder stood up looked right into her face. "Does it feel better, Scully? Does it feel better to lock it all inside and let it eat you?" His voice lowered to almost a growl. "Does it feel better, Dana, to let all the pain gather right here?" He put his hand at her solarplexis "and let it fester inside." She grabbed his hand and pushed it away, refusing to let him get this close, not allowing him to break down this wall, she wouldn't let him get inside. Her blood sugar was so low she could barely think straight. Scully associated defending her emotions with defending her body. She ran into the kitchen with Mulder close behind her, she hastily pulled a paring knife out of a drawer Mulder had forgotten to check. Whirling around Scully screamed, "You don't know how I feel!" No matter how untrue it was, she continued, "You can't get inside my head! What makes you think you know?" She stood defensively, the knife between herself and Mulder. "I can't get inside your head, or you won't let me?" His eyes focused on hers. "I don't need you?" her voice trailed off as her lack of food overcame her. She lost her grip on the knife and it fell to the floor. Had Mulder not caught her, she would have joined it. Scully's unconsciousness turned to sleep and she awoke in Mulder's arms crying out, "No!!!" He held her close, "Ssshhhh?" he soothed her, "It's ok, it's ok, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, I promise." She was now on her bed, Mulder's arms wrapped tightly around her. "Oh G-d, Mulder, the dreams," she said quietly, "Babies, they took them away from me. I couldn't get them back, I couldn't get them back?" She dissolved into tears, burying her face in Mulder's chest, giving up on her pride. She sniffled, lifted her head and wiped her face with her hands. Scully looked at her partner, her best friend and said, "I'm sorry, Mulder, I shouldn't be?" She began to pull away. Mulder couldn't help but laugh quietly as he gently wiped tears off her cheeks, "Jesus, Scully?" "What?" she cut him off. "You're too damn stubborn to see how much I love you." She looked inquiringly at him. "Scully, you don't have to shut me out, you don't have to play tough with me, nothing will make me lose respect or admiration for you. No matter what, my?my reverence grows for you every day, and shutting me out, not letting me help you, doesn't make me think you stronger, I only worry about you." "Mulder, I thought you'd think I was so weak?" He silenced her with an index finger placed tenderly on her lips. "You're the strongest, most incredible person I've ever met," he pulled her close to his chest, "nothing will ever make me think otherwise." He kissed the top of her head as she put her arm around him. They fell asleep in each other's arms and that night, Mulder fought the demons that invaded Scully's head. The End
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