From: Leigh Alexander Date: Sat, 26 Sep 1998 12:59:24 +1000 Subject: NEW: After the Funeral 1/1 After the Funeral by Leigh Alexander leigh_xf@geocities.com First posted: September 26, 1998 RATING: PG CATEGORY: VA SPOILERS: Christmas Carol/Emily KEYWORDS: Mulder-Scully friendship SUMMARY: A brief vignette looking at the final scene of "Emily" from Mulder's perspective. DISCLAIMERS: 1) Dana and Fox belong to Chris and Ten Thirteen Productions and the other Fox. Absolutely *no* copyright infringement is intended - I'm not doing this for money, I'm doing it for love. I *love* these characters, I wouldn't want to hurt them! :) 2) OK to archive, but if it's going anywhere other than Gossamer, please drop me a line just so I can keep track. 3) Feel free to distribute and discuss this, as long as my name and addy remain attached. INTRO: A first for me: a vignette entirely from Mulder's perspective. Let me know how I went... :) ----------------------------------------------------------- After the Funeral ----------------------------------------------------------- He hadn't attended the service because he believed in keeping their lives separate. He fought against the links that had welded them together, needing to be as independent as she. Wanting to get back to that time where no-one else mattered; only him, his family and his quest. Christmas was the time for families. They had divided to be apart. The first time in an entire year that they hadn't seen each other for over a week. Yet still, he thought about her. Breathed her in during the long silences that would fill his mother's house. Unable to rid himself of her. When she had called, he had come. There had been no hesitation, no need to question her, or himself. It had been instinctive. Automatic. Things had tumbled out. Memories had bobbed to the surface and slapped her with pain. His own inadequacies had become acutely apparent. As had hers. She'd needed to be alone, so he had left her. He'd sat respectfully in the car, the flowers filling the vehicle with their pungent scent. Not sure why he'd chosen them. Not even sure what they were called. Cloyingly perfect. Overwhelmingly wrong. The family - her family - had struggled out of the church. He imagined the tears which were surely glistening against their cheeks. He didn't imagine the angry look her burly brother shot at him when he glimpsed him waiting in the car. They'd left, and he'd entered. Walking into the vacuum they'd created. Only coldness remained. And Scully. She stood silent. Mournful. All the words that one associates with a grieving mother. Only she wasn't a mother. She was a host. In ignorance, she had donated her genes to form the creature who'd appeared in the guise of an innocent child. They'd been so clever. Those men. Those shadows who bled into their lives at every turn. Their cleverness always threatening to trip them up, but so far never succeeding. Giving it a child's body had been a cunning ploy. No matter what he knew about the creation, its form had weakened his heart. While Scully's had been lost. Her posture, rigid, defied the emotions which buckled her spirit. His hand gently grazed against her back; it was Scully, and her ache was his ache. The flowers were a gesture. Not futile; that much he knew. Her face told him that, and he registered her thanks with an easing tension. She'd pushed him away before and it had hurt. Impossible to separate their unbroken chain without the equivalent of bolt cutters. All it did was tear a little. When she approached the coffin, he had to turn away. Giving her the privacy he could in a place with no secrets. A cross, some sand, an absence. He didn't fight it. Emotions came tumbling out in proportion to the numb response she gave. Everything lost, and nothing gained. ~ THE END ~ ----------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for reading. Comments are welcome. leigh_xf@geocities.com http://www.geocities.com