From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Fri, 9 Mar 2001 13:31:50 -0600
Subject: Dark Angel by xenoprobe
Source: direct

Reply To: xenoprobe@hotmail.com


Title: Dark Angel
Rating: G
Category: post-ep TINH
Spoilers: This Is Not Happening
Archive:  Please feel free, just let me 
know where.
Summary:  Scully grieves. (This journal 
entry follows my previous three, titled 
Homesick.  I wanted to name this entry 
something new, given the utter pain that 
Scully would be going through.)
Feedback:  Pretty please, with sugar on 
top- send me any feedback you can 
muster at xenoprobe@hotmail.com or 
http://www.xenoprobe.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were- make no 
profit, have no money, do not sue.

~*~*~*~

Dark Angel
By xenoprobe

I can't do this.

All this time I believed, trusted blindly that 
you'd be returned to me.  I dreamed of your 
homecoming and it brought me comfort all 
these months to think of you safe in my arms 
again.  Now this.

The shift of life without you has taken too 
great a toll on me this time.  I have thrown 
myself into your role hoping to find answers 
in all this confusion.  I have lead more with 
my heart than my head and it has left me 
fragile.  Now this.

The sight of your broken frame against the 
leaves, cold and alone, crippled me. The 
sound of my heart breaking must have been 
audible to the small crowd that had gathered.  
And despite the people standing between 
you and I, despite agent Doggett's best 
efforts to protect me from the shock of 
you, there was no one there but us alone.  
For the millions of times I'd imagined 
your return, I had never truly faced this 
one possibility.  

Your beautiful face, your features ruined by 
God knows what horrible tests.  Your body- 
bruised and broken and reconstructed without 
care.  Anger ripped open my soul when I 
touched your cheek.  There was no strength 
left in me when I felt the cold of your skin, 
no pulse, not even a last breath just for me.  
If I could have carried you back to the 
compound myself I'd have done it.

I bolted, the sudden burst of adrenaline made 
me want to vomit, but I had to get back- I had 
to get back to Jeremiah Smith.  I don't even 
know why I tried- when I think about it, of 
course I was too late.  Of course I couldn't 
have you back.

I felt the cry in the pit of my stomach, rising 
up, ripping its way from my throat.  All the 
panic, the grief, the sheer gripping terror of 
this reality was too much for me.  The last 
thing I remember was the taste of sawdust 
in my mouth when I hit the floor.

When I awoke, I was in a bed. Skinner's head 
was resting at my side, his forehead resting 
on the edge of the covers.  He stirred as soon 
as I moved.  He attempted a smile, one of those 
crooked grins I associate with Walter Skinner, 
but the fatigue and pain just beyond the smile 
was a small reflection of my own grief.  

He stayed with me for a while- I thought I 
knew why.  I thought he figured I shouldn't 
be alone at a time like this, he was protecting 
me.  But when I later pulled back the sheets 
and made my way to the window, I was stopped 
by the sounds Skinner, sobbing quietly in the 
bathroom.  He wasn't just protecting me; he 
was grieving with me. He loved you too.

The room tilted suddenly then and I put out 
my arm and fell against a chair.  I sat there 
and cried for you...  I cry for you still Mulder.

I can't do this alone.  Losing you, never having 
the chance to hold you just once more before 
death crept under your skin, is too cruel to 
imagine.  My anger is ripe- we sacrificed 
everything Mulder, your sister and mine, our 
families, our health...  we gave it all up to 
fight the good fight and yet you lie in the 
unforgiving cold of the morgue as I pine for 
you.

Can you feel the cold now Mulder?  Can you 
hear me when I call out to you in the blackest 
of nights?  Are you even a little aware of this 
grim reality, where you are gone, where you 
will never again be at my side?  

I've been praying for strength, for salvation
from a world that would take you from me, 
leaving me, us,  so alone, leaving us to mourn.  

When I convinced Skinner to give me time, 
I locked the door- barring the outside world 
from me.  I slumped into the chair and buried 
my face in my hands, welcoming the absence 
of light.  Nighttime is my only companion now- 
for you have always resided in the shadows- my 
dark angel, my brooding storm.

No more.

There will be no more laughter.

There will be no more joy.

You've sacrificed more than just yourself Mulder, 
I am gone too- an empty husk that was once full 
of you- full of your spirit and the strength of your 
beliefs.   This child, our child... it really is my 
last chance.  My last hope for a glimmer of peace 
in this place that would return you only to snatch 
away your last breath before you could give it to 
me.

Oh Mulder, I ache.

This is too much.  Part of me still wants to scream 
'this is not happening!'  This can't be the way it 
all ends.  Please don't let it be the end.  

I cannot bear this alone.


FIN


~*~*~*~


Author's Notes: TINH nearly killed me to watch- 
it ripped my heart out and fed it to me on a platter.  
(How Hannibal:) The last half of this episode was 
so intense that I didn't even dare blink.  Scully's 
steady unraveling was deeply moving and wholly
understandable and it evoked things in me I had 
tried not to contemplate.  This little story is the 
direct result of that grief.  

Please send any/all comments to xenoprobe@hotmail.com
or http://www.xenoprobe.com