Date: 4 Apr 1998 05:52:15 GMT From: RN500 Subject: NEW: "The Vow" by L. Phillips Yes, I know there's another story entitled "the Vow". But ya know what? It fit, so I'm using it anyway... Title: The Vow Author: Linda Phillips Rating: PG Classification: V / A Spoilers: None Summary: Secret thoughts at a wounded friend's bedside. Disclaimer: The X-Files and it's characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Television. I'm just playing with 'em. ******************* Comments to Linda at FKAM06A@prodigy.com ******************* I don't know if you know that I'm here. But the possibility that you do is enough to make me stay. I do what I can to soothe you. I cool your hot face with a wet cloth. I stroke your hair and murmur soft words in your ear when you become restless and call out for things that no one can give you. When you awaken, I will be here. Occasionally I drop off to sleep in the chair at your bedside, but my rest is usually interrupted by the image of your face as the bullet tore through your leg... the blood, you fall, I shoot, but I'm too late. I'm too late. I run to you, cradle your head, fight the panic. That's when I wake up. I don't know what I'm more frightened of, the reality or the dream. A nurse comes in. They are kind to me here. They sneak food in to me, a pillow and blanket, they let me stay when they should tell me to go. But I think they see the determination in my face. They know I will not leave you. They, more than anyone, know the potential adversity you face. But we continue to hope, I continue to pray. The nurse hangs a bag of IV antibiotic, and it slowly drips into your vein. The nurse looks at me and gives me a small smile, he is thinking what I'm thinking. Maybe this will be the one. Maybe this is the magic potion that will finally overpower the microbes growing in the wound in your leg. Maybe this will be the one to save it. It must happen soon, or you could be swallowed up by the rampaging bacteria. We will not let that happen. But the alternative may make you wish that we did. The doctor has made it plain what must be done if you don't respond to the antibiotics soon. Your mother cried. Skinner remained stone faced, eyes glistening. As for me, I listened, nodding my head, my stomach churning. I didn't trust my voice to ask questions. I have no clinical detachment now. I feel your aching body, sense your infected nightmares. I know what you will think if you wake up and find that you've been disfigured in your feverish absence. You will hate them, the world, the man who did this to you. And you will hate me. But I can't let you die. I pray for the strength to take your anger, if it should come to that. And I will take it. I will wait until it's spent, and when you're ready to go on, you can lean on me. I'll be beside you no matter what.I long ago took my silent vow to love and honor, in sickness and in health, till death do us part, and even then I will not leave you. But I push those thoughts from my mind. I hold on to my optimism, even though it's been so many days since you looked at me with clear eyes. Oh, I long to see those eyes again! The eyes that have always known my soul, and sent chills down my spine from the day we met. Whatever happens, I will love you, and I will be your strength until your own returns. You seem settled for the moment, quiet, your chest rising and falling to push out rapid warm breaths. I lean back and watch you as my eyes become heavier and heavier. I don't want to close them, but I can't help it. I rest my arm on your bed so that I will feel you if you need me, and the darkness washes over me with a soft quiet wave. We are chasing him, and he rounds a corner into an alley and disappears. You go around first and I push myself to catch up. My gun is out as I take the corner, searching, but I see nothing except you in the dusky light. No sound, nothing. I look at you, and you nod your head toward a dumpster a few hundred feet ahead of you. I train my gun on it as we both slowly make our way toward it. Then, out of the corner of my eye I see movement near some piled up boxes, and I swing my gun around, but too late. He fires, you are hit, he runs. I shoot once, twice, three times, and finally he drops to the ground. I run to you, cradle your head up off the wet pavement, and I hear you saying my name. You sound strange, your voice quiet and hoarse. My hand moves... I wake up. You're looking at me. You see me. You're touching my hand. "Scully..." you whisper. My heart leaps at the sound. I rise and lean over you, my palm meeting your cool, moist cheek. I smile. "I'm here, Mulder", I say. "I'm here." ********************** End Short and sweet. Comments to Linda at FKAM06A@prodigy.com -- "____