Title:  Lost II:  Home

Author:  Jessica Zyvarek Taylor

E-Mail:  jzyvarek@udel.edu

Rating:  PG

Spoilers:  nothing specific

Keywords:  Mulder/Scully Romance

Summary:  Set immediately after the events in 
Lost.  A frightening experience causes Scully to 
turn to Mulder for reassurance.

Lost II: Home 
Jessica Zyvarek Taylor (jzyvarek@udel.edu) 

Part One 

She'd finally returned to work, following another 
three weeks off, and a battery of psychological 
tests proving that she was still sane.  And after 
every one she had to fight not to mention that 
she may not have been entirely sane before the 
whole ordeal, therefore rendering the tests 
useless.  But she knew she had to put up with it.  
And she did.  She did it for Mulder's sake 
instead of for her own.

She said she was fine so many times a day, to so 
many different people, that the word had lost all 
meaning to her.  She just knew that was what 
people needed to hear.  Mulder, especially.  But 
she wasn't angry.  She knew it was out of concern 
that he was with her constantly, practically 
glued to her side until she threw him a look and 
handed him his keys.  She didn't mind the company 
usually.  She knew he only did it because he 
loved her.

Every time she thought about how he'd finally 
told her he loved her she had to smile.  It had 
been two weeks earlier, during one of the days he 
was standing a little too close to her for hours 
at a time and she'd gotten fed up. She'd told him 
to leave and the look on his face had made her 
instantly regret saying anything.  Her guilt must 
have reflected on her face regardless of the 
frown and narrowed eyes because he'd seen it.  
And instead of getting his things and leaving the 
way he usually did when she threw him out, he'd 
continued to look at her, knowing the exact look 
to give her to make her want to crawl in a hole 
and die.  She almost gave in.  Almost.  But the 
fact that he was tormenting her on purpose 
renewed her desire to have him leave.  She'd 
crossed her arms and shook her head, not quite 
able to look him in the eye.  He'd obediently put 
on his jacket and headed for the door and she had 
followed.  But once he got there, he'd turned 
back to look at her, making a last ditch effort 
to get her permission to sleep on her couch.  
While she did admire his attempt, she wanted him 
to leave every bit as much as he wanted to stay.  
She'd simply shook her head and tried to close 
the door in his face.  It was at that point that 
he actually whined at her.  Whined.  She was so 
shocked by it that she stopped trying to close 
the door.  He'd asked her, in the most absolutely 
annoying whiny voice she'd ever heard, why she 
wanted him to leave so badly.  She'd told him the 
truth- that he was smothering her and she needed 
a break.  She had trouble understanding why he 
wasn't going stir-crazy himself after spending 
every night of the last week on her couch.  Then 
she'd asked him why he wanted to stay so badly.  
And he'd told her, in that same irritating voice, 
exactly why he wanted to stay.  Because he loved 
her.  He slept in her bed that night.

But there was a reason why she wanted him to give 
her some space.  She'd started having nightmares, 
ones that she couldn't remember but couldn't 
forget either, and she didn't want him to know 
about it.  She somehow managed to keep them 
secret but she knew the more time he spent there, 
the more likely he was to find out.  And then he 
wouldn't let her work.  He wouldn't let her out 
of his sight.  He'd probably worry himself into 
oblivion.  And he'd never give her any privacy 
whatsoever, which was what she was desperately 
trying to regain.  She needed to live by herself 
again.  And even though they scared her, she knew 
they were just nightmares.  And since Mulder 
called her at least three times a night after she 
told him she was going to sleep, she didn't have 
to be scared long before he'd call anyway.

It was the first day she'd been back at work and 
she was exhausted.  She'd had to sit in their 
office all day and try to get him to stop staring 
at her.  She had not succeeded, but she had 
managed to finagle a promise to not call her out 
of him and she counted herself lucky for that.  
She loved him, she'd actually told him, but they 
were having considerable trouble working through 
the question of how much time together was, in 
fact, too much.  She'd tried not to see his hurt 
face as he swore he wouldn't call her, or show up 
uninvited, and she was looking forward to an 
evening alone.  She made herself dinner and 
watched a movie she'd rented and then taken a 
nice long bath.  She was thoroughly relaxed when 
she crawled into bed that night, so much so that 
she wouldn't even have been mad if Mulder called 
just to say good night.  But he kept his promise 
and she drifted off to sleep.

And then she was dreaming again.  But this wasn't 
one of the nightmares that she'd been having.  
Although she felt slightly uncomfortable, she 
wasn't scared and couldn't classify it as a 
nightmare.  It was more along the lines of a 
disturbing dream.  She felt eyes on her, just 
watching, and she knew who it was.  She didn't 
think he wanted to hurt her, but the idea of 
being watched made her skin crawl.  She'd 
squeezed her eyes closed and waited for the 
feeling to pass.  It didn't.  And in her dream, 
she opened her eyes, not sure she wanted to see 
him, not sure of what she did want, and when she 
did, he was standing there.  She could barely see 
him, standing in the shadows, dressed entirely in 
black.  The outline of his shoulders was visible, 
but beyond that, he melted into the darkness so 
she couldn't tell where he ended and the walls 
began.  She couldn't see his face and she wasn't 
sure why she was so sure it was him since she 
couldn't see him.  But he continued to stand 
there, even after she'd opened her eyes.  She'd 
left her window open to help air out the 
lingering scent of the perfume Mulder had tried 
to scrub off her wall and she knew that was how 
he'd gotten in.  The wind blew, what would have 
been an unnoticed breeze, and wafted the scent of 
his cologne towards her.  That was how she knew 
it was him, she reasoned.  The longer she looked 
at him, the less his shoulders stood out and she 
wasn't sure that he was there anymore.  She 
closed her eyes, the unnaturally realistic 
quality of the dream finally causing her heart to 
beat faster.  She began telling herself to wake 
up, thinking that the moment she did, she could 
turn on the light next to her bed and make the 
shadows go away.  She'd turn on all the lights in 
her apartment and sit up all night if she had to.  
But she couldn't wake up, she was trapped in this 
dream, nightmare, whatever it was.  She imagined 
that she could hear him, or something, moving and 
she squeezed her eyes closed as hard as she 
could.  She wasn't sure whether she was scared or 
not.  Part of her knew he wouldn't hurt her, that 
he'd walked out of her life that morning and was 
never coming back.  But the rest of her was 
scared to death of the cold blooded killer 
standing there watching her.  She felt him 
approach her, amazed at how quietly he moved.  
But this was a dream and she knew things never 
seemed quite right in dreams.  She felt him press 
a kiss onto her forehead, and then his hands 
carefully brushed away the tears she hadn't 
realized where falling.  And then he was gone.

She woke up a few hours later, confused that she 
was able to remember the dream while the rest of 
the nightmares were reduced to an odd, 
uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.  
She was awake for several minutes before she 
managed to pry her eyes open.  She knew it had 
been a dream and that he wouldn't be there, but 
the combination of the dark and a nightmare had 
freaked her out more than she imagined possible.  
She glanced at the corner she'd dreamed he'd been 
in and saw nothing.  It was completely dark, no 
outline of shoulders, no hint of cologne, no 
anything.  She turned on the light and picked up 
the phone, dialing the first three numbers before 
she put it back down.  It had only been a 
nightmare, not even an entirely frightening one, 
and if she called Mulder, he'd insist on coming 
over and tearing her apartment apart looking for 
a figment of her imagination.

She thought about getting up and turning on more 
lights, but the scared feeling had passed, 
vanquished the moment the light had come on.  She 
decided she'd just try to sleep with the light on 
for a couple of hours.  She looked towards the 
window, assuring herself for the millionth time 
that no one could fit through there without 
inflicting some serious physical damage to 
themselves.  Then she rolled over, to face away 
from the light, and snuggled down, pulling the 
covers up to her shoulders and shivering despite 
herself.

And then she saw the single red rose he'd left 
her.

Part Two

She stared at the rose in terror for several 
minutes.  He *had* been there.  She believed that 
he didn't want to hurt her, but she wanted to 
scream anyway.  She reached for the phone and 
dialed before she had a chance to rethink it.  
When she'd sent him home and told him not to 
call, she hadn't honestly expected him to follow 
her instructions and she had completely forgotten 
how incredibly vulnerable she felt without him 
sleeping on her couch.  She liked him sleeping on 
her couch.  She wanted him there.  And she 
realized that she missed him so much it hurt even 
though she'd seen him a few hours earlier.

He picked up halfway through the first ring and 
even though his voice was groggy from being woken 
up at 3:46 in the morning, his immediate panic 
was obvious.  She hadn't even thought about how 
badly it would upset him to get a call from her 
so late.  "What's wrong?"  He already knew 
exactly who it was because there was no other 
person on earth who would call him at that hour.

She felt bad for scaring him, but half the 
tension drained right out of her at the sound of 
his voice.  "Hi."  She hadn't planned 
specifically what she was going to say yet.

"Are you all right?"  Her calm hello reduced the 
amount of fear in his voice, but he was still 
concerned.  And she couldn't really blame him 
because she was never the one to make phone calls 
outside of appropriate phoning hours.

Could she actually tell him that she missed him 
terribly after her adamant command to leave her 
alone?  "I'm fine."  She almost laughed at 
herself as she said it, realizing how ridiculous 
it sounded.  *Yeah, Mulder, I'm so fine that I'm 
calling you in the middle of the night.*  But the 
denial that there was anything wrong had become 
automatic to her.  He always knew she wasn't fine 
and that was why he asked.  She heard him sigh in 
response.  He definitely knew something was 
wrong, but he also knew better than to push her.  
"Well, actually,"  She didn't want to make him 
drive over to see her, but she knew he'd sit up 
all night and worry anyway.  "Could you, if you 
don't mind, would you come over, I mean, if 
you're not busy or anything?"  Busy?  Had she 
really just said that?  Admitting that she wanted 
him there was just begging for him to say 'told 
you so'  so she paused for a moment to allow him 
to actually say it.

But she only heard the sounds of him getting up 
and a hastily mentioned 'I'm on my way' before 
the line went dead.  She closed her eyes and 
waited. Knowing it would take him at least 20 
minutes to arrive, she tried to distract herself.  
But the rose seemed to be taunting her.  She 
wanted to move it, but she couldn't touch it.  
Somehow, by touching it, she would make it real.  
She grabbed her blanket and moved into the living 
room, stopping to turn on every light on the way, 
along with the television, and then finally 
curling up on the couch and staring at the door.  
She felt very much like a child who'd had a bad 
dream and wanted to curl up with mom and dad.  
She even had her blanket with her.  All she 
needed to complete the image was to be sucking 
her thumb when Mulder walked in the door.  Maybe 
that wasn't such a good idea.

She heard a car door slam and was standing at the 
door by the time he came half running, half 
walking down the hall.  She waited while he 
looked at her, making sure for himself that she 
was physically all right before he relaxed at 
all.  She was trying to hide the petrified 
expression on her face and failing miserably, but 
she'd at least managed to leave her blanky on the 
couch when she had gotten up.  She moved away 
from the door to let him in and waited for him to 
ask.

He didn't let her down.  "What's going on?"  He 
turned to close the door behind him and the 
moment he turned back around to face her, she 
stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

She wanted to tell him what the problem was, but 
the lump in her throat aborted her attempt.  She 
chose to hug him instead, surprised at how 
tightly she was holding onto him, at how scared 
she suddenly was.  She knew he was as surprised, 
if not more so, since he was always the one to 
initiate contact and she was the one who wanted 
space.  But his arms quickly settled around her 
and he didn't repeat the question.  Scully 
refused to cry.  And should she try to explain 
why she was so upset, she'd start crying. So she 
just couldn't explain.  The whole incident hadn't 
bothered her that much while it was occurring, 
but after she had time to think about it, it 
terrified her, unspeakably so.

Mulder's hand began to gently rub her back and 
she heard his assurances that everything would be 
fine.  And although she believed him, she 
remained where she was, needing the physical 
contact to prove it.  After a few more minutes, 
she felt him kiss the top of her head and pull 
away slightly, leaving his arms around her, but 
looking her in the eye as well.  He said nothing, 
but his face told her that he was questioning her 
actions.

Feeling pathetically immature, she removed her 
arms from their hiding place under his jacket and 
stepped back.  She had to gather the strength to 
speak and he let her prepare herself: tucking her 
hair behind her ears, tugging on the sweatshirt 
she was wearing, licking her lips, general, run-
of-the-mill nervous activities.  When she'd done 
all she could think to do and still wasn't ready 
to tell him what had happened, she decided to 
start with something else.

"You didn't call."  The words would have been 
accusatory, but they came out the way she'd 
intended- as a question.

His eyes darted around the room, like he wasn't 
entirely sure of where he was or why he was there 
or who she was, and then he looked back at her.  
"I thought you."  He paused for a second, closing 
his eyes and pursing his lips and acting as if 
she'd asked him what he'd had for lunch six weeks 
earlier.  "You told me not to, didn't you?"

The look on his face made her want to cry.  He 
looked like he'd just done something so terribly 
wrong that he could never fix it.  She gave him a 
tiny smile and sat back down on the couch, 
pulling the blanket over her legs, needing 
security so much right then that she didn't care 
where it came from.  "Yeah, I did."  She shrugged 
in apology as he sat on the chair in front of 
her.  "You've never listened to me before, I 
still thought you'd call."  The guilty look never 
wavered from his face.

"I'm sorry.  I thought you meant it, that you 
were angry at me."  He reached for her hand and 
held it between both of his.  "But that's not why 
I'm here is it?"

She shook her head and tried to stop the chills 
that ran through her. Holding her hand the way he 
was, he didn't miss them.  He practically jumped 
onto the couch beside her, draping one arm around 
her shoulders and continuing to hold her hand 
with the other.  She ducked her head down and 
focused on their hands.  The first time she said 
it, her whisper was so quiet she couldn't even 
hear it.  He leaned into her, pulling her closer 
and resting his chin on top of her head.  "He was 
here."

She felt his arm tense and his hand practically 
crushed hers.  "What do you mean 'he was here'?"  
Immediately, she had to bite down the 'well, duh' 
response that threatened to escape before she 
realized he was taking it to mean that Krycek had 
come by and she'd let him in willingly.

She tried to remove her hand from the death grip 
he was holding it in and had absolutely no 
success.  "I woke up and he was there."  The 
tears started to well up in her eyes and the lump 
returned in her throat, which in addition to the 
runny nose the tears caused made her sound like a 
little girl who'd fallen off her bike. "He was 
just standing there and he was watching me," She 
reached up with her free hand to wipe away the 
tears.  She wasn't going to convince anybody she 
was fine if she couldn't hold herself together 
and stop shaking.  "I thought it was a dream but 
it wasn't and he was really there and and and-"  
She didn't know what else to say.  The words 
she'd said didn't seem nearly strong enough to 
sum up the horror she was experiencing.

But instead of questioning her, he just held her, 
letting go of her hand in favor of wrapping both 
arms around her.  He waited until she wasn't 
crying quite so hard to relax his hold on her.  
"Are you sure he was there, Dana, are you sure it 
wasn't just a nightmare?"

She unintentionally whimpered at his question.  
She'd thought of that. She'd decided it was that.  
But it hadn't been.  "He was here."  She 
untangled herself from his arms and stood up, 
catching his hand and pulling him up with her.  
"Come here."  She knew she couldn't speak the 
words that Krycek had left the rose on her 
pillow.  The same as she couldn't lay a hand on 
the thing either.  He let her lead him into her 
bedroom, where she pointed to the pillow. She 
didn't look, couldn't look, irrationally fearing 
that the rose held some kind of evil magical 
powers and would be floating through the air or 
something sinister and malign.  She waited to 
hear the sharp intake of breath or a curse or 
*something* from him.  He said nothing.  She 
dared to look towards him, thinking that maybe he 
was as horror stricken as she was and that he 
just couldn't speak because he was so upset.

But the look on his face confused her.  He was 
just staring blankly in the direction of where 
she'd pointed.  She dared to look back at the 
rose and the realization struck her the same time 
his words did.

"What am I looking for?"

The rose was gone.

Part Three 

Her jaw dropped open and her eyes moved around 
the room, searching.  She couldn't see it.  It 
wasn't on the bed, it wasn't on the floor, it 
wasn't there.  For a moment, one single fleeting 
moment, she thought maybe it had been a dream 
after all.  But she knew it hadn't been.  And 
that meant that he'd come back for the rose.  And 
that in turn meant that he'd been there when she 
called Mulder.  And she did not like that.

The chills were back.  Now not only did Mulder 
think she'd been hysterical over a dream, but 
she'd have to live with the fact that Krycek 
could come and go as he pleased.  She could feel 
Mulder's gaze before she even took her eyes off 
the bed.  When she raised her eyes to meet his, 
she noticed that confused look was gone.  She 
didn't understand why, but that look had been 
replaced with what she recognized as anger.  
Ashamed, she looked down at the floor.  He was 
mad at her for dragging him over there in the 
middle of the night because she'd had a 
nightmare.  He'd never believe that Krycek had 
been there, dropped the rose off, listened to her 
call Mulder, and then come back and retrieved the 
rose before Mulder saw it.  She wouldn't have 
believed it herself.  Except she knew it was 
true.

With her eyes trained on the ground, she didn't 
see Mulder approach her. She jumped when she felt 
his touch.  She let him lift her chin up so he 
could see her face.  She looked at him just long 
enough to catch a glimpse of the still angry 
face.  His hand slid to the side of her neck with 
his thumb resting on her cheek.  But she didn't 
look back at him.  She couldn't.  She didn't want 
to see him when he was mad at her.

"Did he-"  His voice cracked and he sounded like 
he was about to cry.  Her eyes instantly darted 
back to his.  "Did he hurt you?"  He must have 
assumed that was what she was trying to tell him.

She opened her mouth to say no, but he chose that 
moment to pull her into an embrace and she ended 
up with a mouthful of his shirt.  She tried to 
pull away, knowing what was running through his 
head and wanting to stop it.  He wouldn't give 
her an inch.  He was so upset he was shaking.

Accepting that, for the time being at least, he 
wasn't releasing her, she spoke carefully, trying 
to keep her voice from being muffled by his 
shirt.  "No, Mulder, he didn't.  He just stared 
at me.  He just waited there and watched me."  
His arms loosened slightly.  "He left a rose on 
the bed, but it's gone now." His hands retreated 
all the way back to her shoulders.

"You don't think it was just a dream?  Nightmares 
can seem realistic at times."  She got the 
impression that he was more worried about the 
fact that she was having nightmares than the fact 
that Krycek could get into and out of her 
apartment at will.

She stepped away from him, disappointed that this 
was the only thing he wouldn't simply accept.  
"That's exactly what I thought."  Why did her 
voice sound so weak and shaky?  "I was sure it 
was just a nightmare.  And then when I woke up I 
saw the-"  She'd said it once, but she couldn't 
get it out again. "I saw it.  Then I called you.  
I was sitting there looking at it when I called 
you.  I wasn't dreaming then."  She tried to 
catch his eye, to see if he believed her, but 
he'd moved over to the window and was examining 
it closely. "I went out to wait for you in the 
living room and now it's gone."  Her voice had 
faded to a whisper by the time she finished.  And 
she didn't think he'd heard one word.  He 
certainly didn't give any indication of it.  She 
stared at him for several minutes, but he seemed 
absolutely fascinated by the window.  Her eyes 
started to close on her and she remembered that 
it was almost 4:30 in the morning.  She went back 
to the living room to retrieve her blanket and 
returned to the bedroom with every intention of 
dropping into bed and going to sleep.  She knew 
she was safe with Mulder there, even if he 
thought she was hallucinating.

She stopped short when she walked back into her 
bedroom.  Mulder was gone.  She rolled her eyes 
and wondered if the room wasn't some magic portal 
through which things appeared and disappeared at 
random.  She dropped the blanket on the bed and 
open the curtains.

"Hi."  Mulder grinned at her, amused at the 
exasperated look on her face.  "You know, I would 
have said it was impossible, but..."  He 
shrugged.

Pleased that at least part of her claim had been 
vindicated and annoyed at the inanity of his 
display, she sighed and offered him a hand 
climbing back in.  The entrance was anything but 
graceful and she wasn't sure how she'd managed to 
sleep through it twice.  But she assumed Krycek 
had a little more practice breaking into people's 
houses than Mulder.  Once he was back in and 
she'd shut and locked the window, she turned to 
face him.  He had the sense to look sorry.  He 
wasn't that stupid.  "It's obviously possible.  
He was here."  She hadn't meant to sound like she 
was accusing him of something, but she was tired 
and her voice had a harsh edge to it.  He should 
have believed her.  She knew the difference 
between dreams and reality.  Most of the time.

She picked up her blanket and put it back on the 
bed.  She looked back at him when he spoke.  "I'm 
sorry."  He meant it.  She knew the sound of his 
voice when he was being sincere.  "We can get 
someone to watch the apartment, or I can do it. I 
could-"

"Mulder, just let it go."  That wasn't what she'd 
intended.  She was getting very sleepy and the 
wrong words were coming out.  "I don't want 
anyone watching me.  That'll drive me crazy 
faster than wondering if he's going to try it 
again."

"I don't want you staying here alone."  He was 
just being protective.  And for that, she was 
suddenly grateful.  She hadn't realized it, but 
that was exactly what she'd been waiting for him 
to say.  "You can either come stay at my place or 
I'm staying here.  It's your choice."

She wasn't about to argue with him.  She didn't 
want to.  "You stay here."  She turned away then 
to get into bed and he headed for the living 
room.  As she switched off the light, she added a 
silent thank you to her words.  She listened to 
him moving around the other room and she closed 
her eyes, knowing she could sleep soundly with 
Mulder there to keep her safe.

She drifted off to sleep, thinking she'd sleep 
for several hours since she hadn't gotten much 
rest that night.  But she woke up quickly, 
feeling someone watching her once again.  She 
opened her eyes, ready to see Krycek standing 
there again.  She looked around the room, 
checking the shadows in the corner first and saw 
nothing.  She turned towards the hallway and saw 
that it was Mulder.  "You scared me."  Her voice 
seemed out of place in the silence of the room.  
Mulder said nothing, opting to move into the 
bedroom and climb into the bed with her.  She 
hadn't expected it. They'd said they loved each 
other, they'd hugged, she'd fallen asleep on his 
shoulder watching television, one night he'd 
slept in her bed and held her.  But they hadn't 
kissed since that first time, right after she'd 
come back.  It was a silent agreement to leave it 
where they both felt comfortable until they were 
ready for more.

And now he was laying in her bed.  She didn't 
know what that meant.  She didn't know what she 
wanted it to mean.  Did he want to take it 
further?  Or was the couch uncomfortable?  She 
couldn't tell.  A few horribly uncomfortable 
moments passed before she decided the couch was 
uncomfortable and she rolled to face the wall 
away from him.  She felt him moving around and 
wondered what he was doing, but she couldn't see 
and wasn't particularly worried.  Then she felt 
his arm slip around her waist and he pulled her 
back against him.  She tensed up, instinct 
telling her to panic when someone invited himself 
into her bed and then grabbed her.

"I'll die before I let him hurt you again."  His 
voice sounded strange, coming from so close to 
her ear, but it was still soothing.  And she knew 
he absolutely meant every word.  She shifted her 
arm and wrapped her fingers around his hand.  He 
always knew what she needed from him.  It was the 
most comforting feeling she'd ever had.  She 
could only hope that he felt the same way about 
her since she didn't have the courage to ask.  
She was pretty sure that he did, though, because 
when he'd finished speaking he'd buried his face 
in her hair and seemed perfectly content to leave 
it there.

She'd never felt so loved in her life.  And she'd 
never loved anyone more.  And he was falling 
asleep.  She still wanted to tell him.  She'd 
told him before, but she needed to say it again.  
"I love you."  She hoped he was still awake to 
hear her because she desperately wanted him to 
hear her say it without his prompting.  He 
squeezed her hand in response and tightened his 
hold on her.  She smiled into the darkness and 
then fell asleep.

Finis