A/N: Thank you for all of your support! This is the final chapter! If you have an MSR prompt (particularly post IWTB) please message me on here or on my tumblr blog "Ifmuldercouldseemenow"

I don't own The X-Files. If I did, William would be chillin' on that beach with Mulder and Scully!

Hope y'all like it!

Closure Chapter 8: Healing

He'd seemed to forget that he wasn't the only one with demons. He wouldn't leave her to fight on her own any longer.

"I can't live like this, Mulder," she looked at him with azure glistening eyes. He ran the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks, catching the tears and pushing them away.

"We will get through this, Scully," he says with more certainty than he's ever possessed. Of all of the things he's defended, justified, believed in, he believes in her and them the most. "Together."


It is hours later when he wakes. A blanket is covering him on the floor but his arms are absent of her warmth. Maybe she was right, maybe he did want her for her body heat. But there was so much more than that.

"Scully?' he calls, raising to his feet and reaching for the dresser to steady himself. The room is back in perfect order and he glances at the clock, realizing almost 3 hours have passed. If someone walked into the room now they wouldn't begin to suspect that just hours ago his wife was having a nervous breakdown.

"Mulder," she responded surprised from the bathroom. The door is closed and she sounds pained.

"Scully," he calls. He can't keep the worry from his voice. He tries the doorknob, happy to find that it opens with ease.

"Stop!" she shouts, but the door is already open. She turns from him, pulling her open dress shirt around her body but he sees tiny, angry marks on her flesh.

"Scully?" his brows knot and he looks like a hurt animal. "Please. Don't hide from me."

Tears slide down her cheeks as she lowers her pants. It pains him that she doesn't even have to unbutton her pants to slide them over her slim hips. She's so incredibly thin. There he sees it. Raw thighs.

Her long baths. The long nights sitting in the bathroom. How hadn't he noticed?

"It hurt so much," she doesn't look at him "I feel so dirty and I can't get it to go away." She pauses and looks at his face. He tries to plaster a blank expression like he was taught through so many years as a profiler, but he can't. "You're disgusted," she finally says, shaking her head and backing away, trying to grab her garments and a towel to cover herself with.

He steps forward and touches her arm softly, stopping her. "You could never disgust me, Scully. You're my one in 5 billion," he smiles warily, knowing the line is overused but that she would appreciate it. Her hand clenches on his arm.

"Mulder-"

"I want to help you. Please, tell me how."

"Could you stay with me, Mulder?" Her voice sounds tiny and worried. She's afraid of his response, afraid that her admission was too much for him-despite his previous words. His eyes widen in shock momentarily, before he realizes that she means stay in the bathroom with her, not stay in their marriage. Either way, the answer is "Always."

He runs water that is a pleasant temperature, not the scalding hot she was used to. Holding out his hand, he helps her step into the claw-foot tub, giving her soft reminders that she's beautiful, that they will get through this; that they're gone. When she begins to scrub her legs a little too viciously, his hand dips into the water and stops hers. She looks at him with tears all anew in her eyes. He takes the clothe from her trembling hands and puts fresh soap on it, running it over her back.

"You didn't ask for this, Mulder," she says, sounding angry at herself. She feels helpless, but thankful. His hands are smooth and gentle over her skin, rubbing in the soap.

"I took the same vows you did, Scully. And you've been taking care of my sad ass for over 15 years. Don't act like you haven't dreamed of me as your servant for all these years. All that's missing are the grapes and my tiny frilly uniform." He says as he takes the nozzle and wets her hair. He puts a glob of her favorite shampoo in his hand (he had horde to choose from too, Dana Scully, his goop-collector) and leans into her ear, whispering huskily. "Which can be arranged, you know."

At this she laughs, really laughs and he smiles fully. It's been so long.

When he's finished he turns his back to get a towel and hears the water slosh behind him. His eyes go wide when he turns around to Scully attempt to get up but stumble back to her seated position. Mulder ignores the pools of water now on the floor.

"Can you help me up, Mulder. I-I feel dizzy."

He's there in an instant, towel in hand, arms outstretched.

Both of her hands reach and grab his forearms, tugging him closer and closer. He whispers a question into her ear and she nods.

He wraps her in the long towel and swoops his arms under her legs, lifting her. Scully squeaks momentarily before resting her head in the crook of Mulder's neck. She missed this. She remembers the last night he had done that, just days before-she pushes the thought away.

When he sets her on the bed and runs off, she calls after him. "Mulder?" she questions. Waiting a few beats, she asks again. "Mulder what are you doing?" When he doesn't respond she slides from the bed and bath towel, grabbing her purple robe and pulling it over her body. Just as she's about to walk down the stairs she sees Mulder, arms full of junk. His eyes go wide and he stares, knowing he's been caught, before shooting her a grin.

"What's all that, Mulder?" she asks, arms crossed over her chest.

"Our movie-night feast, Scully."

"Feast?"

"Pizza's on its way. Extra pineapples like you like" She begins to speak to tell him she's not really hungry when her stomach growls loudly in their silent house.

He shoots her a shit-eating grin. Holding the bundle of some of the unhealthiest snacks she's seen in her life, Mulder scurries past her. How he got flamin'hot cheetos in the cart without her seeing, she'll never know, but she's certainly craving them now. She follows him into their bedroom as he drops the snacks Iced tea bottles, root bear, sunflower seeds, and Oreos now lay scattered across her bed. She wants to tell him that all this junk will be the death of them. That they're too old, that her metabolism- but she doesn't. It reminds her of their late-nights doing paperwork-of her laying in his bed and he massaging her feet and neither of them getting any paperwork done at all. It was so long ago, and yet when the man in front of her turn, she sees the same man from over 15 years ago smiling back to her. He pats the bed, and shoots her another grin.

"And if you're nice, Scully, I'll even let you pick a chic-flick." She smiles and pulls back the duvet, officially breaking her rule of "no eating in this bed" when she pops a cheeto into her mouth. Flamin.'

The pizza seems to arrive just as they've found the movie channels and when he returns he sees that they are indeed watching a chic-flick.

"27 Dresses, Scully? Really?" He settles in the bed and opens the pizza, watching her carefully as she eats. He knows she may not ever understand the delight he feels when she finishes one slice and then goes back for another. The cancer had taken so much from her: her appetite, her health, nearly her life. He had nearly done the same when he ignored her migraines and her pain while he ran off with Father Joe nearly a year and a half ago. The signs were there before. He wouldn't ignore her again. He wouldn't sacrifice her for his truth. He wouldn't let her waste away. He would protect her.

They aren't watching the movie, not really. She shimmies across the bed after she's had her fill of pizza and cheetos, and leans her head on her husband's shoulder. He takes her hand in his and holds it tight as she begins to whisper her secrets to him.

She whispers until it's the sun shines through their curtains and he listens intently to every word.


Months later

Dana Scully awakens from her bed to the soft whimpering of her only son. She slides out from under the duvet, careful not to wake Mulder, and pads quietly into William's room.

"Willy," she says softly, gently shaking her son's shoulder. He is moving uneasily in the bed, obviously in duress and crying. "Will," she leans closer, rubbing her hand up and down his arms. He wakes in a fluster, shaking from the confinements of her arms and shouting.

"Mommy!"

"Will. Willy it's okay, I'm right here," she whispers into his ears, smoothing his sweat soaked hair from his forehead. She didn't have to ask him what nightmare he was having. It had been nearly 2 months since he'd had his last one, thanks to the child psychologist he'd been seeing.

"Mommy," he wailed into her shoulder. She held her son for what could have been minutes or hours before he started sniffling and then stopped crying all together.

"S'ok, Willy," she soothed, rubbing her hand against his back. "Want me to lay with you?" He made room for Scully in his tiny bed and leaned into her chest as she laced her fingers through his hair, and hummed his favorite bullfrog song. His soft voice broke her melody

"When will the dreams stop?" She sighs empathetically and brings her lips to the top of her son's head.

"I don't know," she admits honestly. "But I can tell you that nothing that happened that night was your fault. It wasn't any of our faults."

"Are you still scared?"

"Are you, William?" Scully asks, worried. She wants to cure her son, but knows there's no magical cure- that the best thing she can do is listen to him. Mulder has taught her that. William nods his head and tightens his grip around her hand, looking at her with eyes that mirror her own. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, deciding that it's time to tell her son.

"There is darkness out there, William, and sometimes it will get you. But what I can tell you is that your father and I love you very much and would do anything to protect you."

"And what about you?"

"The darkness got me William, and I was so afraid for so long," she begins, her voice cracking. "And it's okay to be afraid, but whenever I feel scared or I think I'm too sad to go on, I remember that wherever I am, If I'm in trouble your father is doing everything in his power to come help me." William smiles at his mother and lets her wipe the final tears from his cheeks. "And you never know, Willy, he might come rescue me in that maid costume."

William lets out a gut-busting laugh at this, pointing at the picture pinned on his wall of his father in costume holding grapes.

She pulls her son close to her once again, and breathes in his scent. He's soon asleep in her arms. Scully plants a kiss on his forehead. "You and your father are my salvation, William," she whispers "please always remember that." She adjusts her son, careful not to wake him, and slides from the covers. The blanket his placed up to his chin, which she knows he hates but it really is chilly tonight.

Walking back to her room, she slides back under the sheets. Scully soon notices that Mulder is not longer asleep when he reaches his long limbs across the bed. She flinches briefly before leaning into his touch and letting him pull her close to him.

"You have to keep bringing up that costume, don't you? Cruel, vial woman"

"Hey it was your suggestion, I only held you to it," she comments as his fingers drum atop her hip, and run up her side, happy that her ribcage is no longer entirely exposed.

She closes her eyes as Mulder hums into her neck, his melodious vibrations massaging her muscles. There was still so much work she had to do, so much they had to do, but he was there to help her. He would always be there. They would get through this, that much she knew.

And that was enough.

A/N: What did you think? :)