Maybe it's easier for her to accept. She's been waiting, watching the results, trying one treatment or another; she's been winnowing away the options until there's only one path left. She's had time to adjust to the inevitability of it; his suggestion of a reprieve is recent enough not to have wholly taken hold. If it's just another promising miracle drug that falls through... She's used to that.
But he's had her, and lost her, and now maybe he has to lose her again. And again, she thinks, it's less that she worries about living for her own sake, and more that she doesn't want to do that to him.
The more things change, she thinks, with the darkest of humor, the more they stay the same.
She doesn't get up. At least the bleeding has abated, truly, and she shoves the towel away haphazardly, but stays leaning against him-- wet hair sticking to his chest, her damp body cooling in the air. The truth is there's nowhere to go.
He might be forgiven for wondering if she's fallen asleep, but eventually, like she's come to a weighty decision--
no subject
But he's had her, and lost her, and now maybe he has to lose her again. And again, she thinks, it's less that she worries about living for her own sake, and more that she doesn't want to do that to him.
The more things change, she thinks, with the darkest of humor, the more they stay the same.
She doesn't get up. At least the bleeding has abated, truly, and she shoves the towel away haphazardly, but stays leaning against him-- wet hair sticking to his chest, her damp body cooling in the air. The truth is there's nowhere to go.
He might be forgiven for wondering if she's fallen asleep, but eventually, like she's come to a weighty decision--
"Mulder..."
She hesitates.