#wrote this while my meds kicked in so any mistakes can be attributed to drugs

[actual-changeling]

One breath, but Mulder shows up in Scully's hospital room with tear tracks still drying on his face and his first real smile since she was taken. He's out of breath, probably broke several dozen traffic laws on his way back to her, but she's awake.

Not Fox, Mulder, Scully corrects her mother, and she is reaching for him before she can think better of it. His hands are warm and shaking and familiar, and he sits down next to her like she's made of glass. Like he is going to break her if he allows his fear to spill out onto the floor.

His mouth opens and closes repeatedly until he finally manages a hi, watching her lips move into a smile. hi. Mulder tentatively lifts their intertwined hands and kisses her knuckles while squeezing his eyes shut.

He wants to fall to his knees and thank every god he doesn't believe in for bringing her back to him, he wants to hold her and press her to his chest until he no longer feels empty inside, he wants to bury his face in her hair and fall asleep with her safe in his arms. At some point during the last few weeks, he must have slept, even if only for a few horrifying hours, yet all he recalls is suffocating darkness and her screams echoing in his mind.

I missed you, Mulder whispers against her skin, but she hears him—she always does.

I heard you, she responds, tugging on his hand to pull him closer. I heard you, Mulder. I felt the strength of your beliefs.

Maggie and Melissa are silently watching the exchange, but they've never cared less about prying eyes and unsatisfied curiosity. Scully's gaze catches on something, and Mulder follows it to the glinting gold cross around his neck. The chain runs through his fingers like water, thin and fragile, and the only thing that helped him stay sane enough to keep going.

Kept it safe for you, he tells her, and takes it off to fasten it around hers instead; it's finally back where it belongs. Tears burn new, glistening paths down his cheeks, and he doesn't bother wiping them away.

I was so scared. It's a confession, it's an apology, it's a promise, and he shuffles closer and closer and closer.

I was so fucking scared, Scully.

Her fingertips are cool against his flushed skin, and he closes his eyes at the contact, fearing that if he moves, she will disappear again. For so long, nothing in his life mattered more than the nebulous truth hiding the fate of his sister. Then she walked into his office with a smile and trust in her heart, and suddenly she wasn't simply helping him discover the truth—she became the truth.

Scully squeezes his hand and traces the line of his jaw, and two warm pairs of eyes look away when she tilts her head upwards, meeting Mulder in the middle as he leans in close, closer, touching.

She kisses him softly because she wants to. Because she can. Because she can taste salt, relief, and light on his tongue, a sunrise swallowed and hidden away throughout the night.

Thank you for not giving up. He couldn't have lived with himself if he had, and it's written across his face and woven into his soul. Losing her would have meant losing himself, and there is nothing that could have stopped him from following her to wherever they would have gone. Together or not at all, and he has no idea why she stayed, why she is still staying after everything he put them through.

You found me, he cannot say; you found me and brought me home. You found me and you saw me, and I don't think I will ever know why you decided I was deserving of your grace and your presence in my life.

They press their foreheads together, and a by now familiar hand lands on his shoulder as Maggie reaches for both of them—family, she had called him, over and over—and there is nothing but warmth offered to him.

Thank you for coming back.