Disclaimer: Considering what he's doing to them, CC doesn't deserve them. But they're his by law, so I'll just have to make due.

Author’s Notes: I am so put off by this whole no Mulder in Season 8 thing that it is getting hard to write. I'm going to try a few vignettes before tackling anything larger. XScout@hotmail.com

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Spectare Tibi Somnus

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You are so beautiful when you sleep. I have often watched you in the wee hours of the morning, memorizing each tiny detail until I can reconstruct an image of you in my mind without a single flaw. Studying your slumbering countenance used to be one of my secret pastimes, only allowed on those rare occasions when you let your walls down and gave in to exhaustion. After a long and harrowing case you often fell asleep at your desk, later swearing that you were fine and were just resting your eyes. When you were sick and let me tend to you I would sit in the old armchair by your couch and watch your fevered dreams. More commonly I was witness to your drugged rest, imposed upon you in countless hospitals.

Maybe it is the way your long eyelashes rest on your cheekbones. Perhaps it's the way those same locks of hair always tumble across your forehead, making you look rather rakish. It might even be how your lips twitch ever so slightly as you dream. But I don't think so. When our relationship crossed a new boundary, I found the opportunity to watch you sleep had become a privileged commonality. Lying next to you, your warm skin touching mine, I would stay awake for hours just watching. It wasn't until then that I discovered the true reason behind my need.

I saw you at peace.

Yes, you are a handsome man, any woman with eyes could tell that, and I would be a liar to say that it doesn't affect me. But your looks aren't what draw me to you time and again in the night. It is because it is the only time when I can look upon you and see you at peace. When you're awake there is this *thing* behind your eyes, this emotion that has sometimes dimmed but has never disappeared. A sadness that can never be erased; a sadness created by too many memories of an unforgiving past. That sadness can be overshadowed by anger, concern, manic excitement, and more recently, passion. Or the cold blackness that you sink into when you profile.

I understand why you are an insomniac; your brilliant mind doesn't allow you much rest. It is always searching, always active, playing continuous pictures across the backdrop of your eyes. Cases from the past, clues to present ones, criminals, conspiracies, murders. Having all that in one's head would make it hard for one to get any rest, doubly so if you have a photographic memory. I've heard about the time when you were a profiler for the Violent Crimes Section - Jerry Lamana filled me in. You rarely slept more than four or five hours a night when you were on a case, if at all. Your body often forced you to collapse in order to get the rest it needed, but the FBI didn't let you rest for long. They needed you too much.

I learned early on in our partnership that you were prone to nightmares. I still remember that first time vividly. I heard you cry out in a strangled voice that spoke of such anguish that I was out of my own bed and through the connecting door in less that ten seconds. Surprise and embarrassment were replaced with concern when I discovered you alone, the sheets twisted about you. After a guarded discussion you admitted to me that you frequently had nightmares and there was nothing to be worried about. Considering all that you have had to endure in life, I decided that it was just something I should get used to and do my best to deal with. At first I just pulled my pillow over my head and ignored the cries. One night it got so bad that I couldn't handle it anymore and went to you. I sat down next to your thrashing body and started speaking softly, running my hand up and down your arm. You slowly calmed down and slept more easily for the rest of the night. I think that is when it all began.

My middle of the night trips to your room became commonplace; sometimes you would wake up, sometimes not. You never spoke of what you dreamt, not that I couldn't tell when you usually muttered and mumbled about whatever it was, and you never mentioned my intervention. You would wake up the next morning, give me a soft smile that took my breath away and that was that. I understood that you were grateful. When we became more involved I was able to take you into my arms, rocking you back to sleep in the cradle of my body.

Sleep is such a simple thing and yet… and yet it is something that I cherish when it involves you. I feel a sense of intimacy when I watch you, as though it is a gift you have given me. In a way it is. You let me in like you have never let in anyone else, given me your trust and your love. You feel safe when I am in your company and you believe in me, so you drop your guard and let me see your vulnerable side.

I watch you sleep now, as much in wonderment of it as the first time so many years ago. Stroking the ever-growing bulge of my belly, I smile slowly. I am imagining you sitting in a rocking chair, our child in your arms, both of you fast asleep. Glancing from your peaceful face to the swelling under my hands, I am once again struck by the miracle of this baby. I don't know how it is possible and I don't particularly care, all I know is that I love you and we will make it.

I waited so long and spent so many nights praying for your return, for some sign that you would come back to me and we could raise this child together. When you did finally show up at the hospital I was so overwhelmed with joy that I almost went into premature labor. Seven months is a long time to wait. But you are back now and I know we will make it.

"Agent Scully?"

I tilt my head to the right, keeping my eyes on your face. I know who it is. "Yes?"

"Assistant Director Skinner is on the phone."

"Thanks, Nancy." The nurse leaves the room and I struggle to stand, cursing my swollen limbs. I give your face one last look, seeing past the tape and the tubes, and behold the peaceful beauty beneath.

I may have enjoyed watching you sleep, but at this very moment, I would give anything in the world if you would only wake up.

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End