From: TJ <2ISUGRADS@Prodigy.net>
Date: Thu, 26 Jul 2001 08:15:51 GMT
Subject: New!  Elsewhere, More Brightness by TJ
Source: atxc

Title:  Elsewhere, More Brightness
Author:  TJ
Feedback:  2ISUGRADS@Prodigy.net
Category:  A, V, MSR
Rating:  G
Summary:  Scully goes home after Mulder's funeral.
Distribution:  I'd love for you to use this!  Please let me
know where though.
Disclaimer:  Last I checked, they still weren't mine.
Paltry bank statements confirm it.  These characters are the
creation of CC, Fox Network and any other affiliated people
responsible for the X-Files TV program.  I'm just lovingly
worshipping them through fanfic.
Author's Note:

No beta took place.  All errors are mine and I accept fault
for typos, grammatical and punctuation faux pas and assorted
character contradictions.  I wrote this in an hour very late at
night, so please be kind in your critique.

I really, really expected (and hoped for) more emotion from
Scully at the opening of Dead/Alive.  At least the funeral
could have been played up a little more.  And what the hell
was with the snow in what should have been July or August if
he disappeared in May and was found dead three months later?
I'm still completely baffled by that time line blunder.
(And the writers wonder why the fans bitch about
continuity!) So here goes some cathartic writing.  And still
nothing is resolved here or there!


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Elsewhere, More Brightness


My apartment is dark.  And empty.  As empty as I feel.
Skinner guides me through the door and leads me to my sofa,
turning on a lamp on my end table as soon as he gets me
seated.  I think he's afraid I'm going to collapse.

"Don't," I say simply, not looking at him.  It's too hard to
do much else besides keep breathing.

"Don't what?" he asks, confusion furrowing his already
creased brow.  He looks much older now than his years in
this dim light. I think we all aged decades this past week,
especially today.

"I don't want a light on,"  I whisper.  My voice feels
strained with emotions I have yet to release in front of
anyone.  After that night, I cried alone.  I couldn't let
anyone see how fragile I felt inside; so crumpled and
broken, just like how we found him on that cold, hard
ground.

"OK," he responds, turning the lamp off, and I'm glad he
doesn't challenge me on it.  Everyone has been telling me
the past few days what I should be doing...or not doing, and
I'm getting pretty sick of it.  I know they're only trying
to help, but nothing's going to change the one truth I so
desperately want to run from.  Mulder is dead, and only
hours ago I helped to bury him.

"He liked the darkness,"  I say softly, not sure why I'm
even saying it.  I go on, speaking as if I'm outside myself,
listening to my voice recorded, not feeling my mouth move as
the words leave me.  "It used to bother me that he always
had his blinds closed.  At first, I'd go open them whenever
I went over, and right away, he'd close them again.
Everything in his apartment was too dark.  It seemed
mysterious...sometimes creepy.  From the art prints on his wall
to the little light in his aquarium, the ambiance was almost
eerie... surreal.  You'd think he would want it brighter,
more cheerful.  But he didn't.  I think he associated
darkness with calmness, and maybe even peace...what little
of that he ever had in life.  In the dark he could hide from
whatever he needed to.  I hated how he was that way.  But
then I got used to it.  It's as much a part of who he is.."
I stumble over the present tense of that word and let the
stillness of our surroundings swallow it.  I need to go on,
to keep talking so I don't have to listen to the quiet
breaking of my heart. "...just like him chewing on his
sunflower seeds or throwing pencils up at the ceiling.  I
learned to love that aspect of him just as much as I did all
his other idosyncrasies; even if it made me crazy
sometimes."

Walter Skinner stands there fists in his pockets, staring at
me as if I've finally lost all my senses rambling on like I
just did.  He says nothing, but gives me a little
patronizing smile.

"Is it crazy of me to try to hang on to him like this?"  I
ask with a tiny laugh that comes out sounding a little too
much like a lunatic's.

"Of course not.  It's important to remember the qualities
of those we love after they're gone."  He sounds too
detached from the situation and I suddenly feel angry at him
for his ability to be so clinical.  Is that I how I used to
sound to some people?  To Mulder?

"But I don't want to have to *remember* him, Sir,"  I toss
the "Sir" part on the end just to let him know how I took
that.  I don't want him to be my boss right now; I need him
to be my friend.

He sighs and rubs his hand over the smooth top of his head.
"I know, Dana.  I wish things could be different, you know I
do, but I don't think it's healthy for you to punish
yourself over his death.  Don't retreat into a world he
couldn't pull himself out of.  You owe it to yourself, to
him and to that baby to not go where he went."

"If you're worried that I might do something stupid..." I
start, but he cuts me off.

"I know you better than that.  I don't think you'd do
anything intentional, but grief has a strange way of putting
some people in situations they normally wouldn't allow
themselves to be in."  He gives me a stern look, remembering
all too well the many close calls I've already had.

"I'm not going to put myself or this baby at risk, if that's
what you're worried about."  I tell him, not sure if it's
entirely true.  There hasn't really been any closure to what
happened to Mulder or why, and I still need to find the
answers, if not for myself, for him.  It's the least I can
do for him now; expose the truth he died trying to find.

The phone rings suddenly and Skinner looks at me to see if I
want him to answer it.  I wave him aside as I reach for it.
Right before I pick it up I say, "I'm sure it's my
mother.  Why don't you go on home, now.  I'll be all right."

He reaches out, squeezing my shoulder firmly and I notice
tears reflected behind his glasses before he turns to
go.  There's still enough light in my living room to see
that he too is grieving; for a man who's hopefully found
elsewhere, more brightness than he ever did in this world
he left behind.


Final Note:

Being very aware of the set design of Mulder's and Scully's
apartments, I always thought Mulder's place reflected his
dark, brooding mood perfectly.  I envisioned that the
subdued lighting was somehow a comfort to him but at the
same time, it would most likely bother Scully, who's
original apartment on the series always seemed pretty
cheery. (Her current home, however, does seem to echo her
more refined and somber sense of style as her character has
evolved.   Bet she shops Pottery Barn, Crate and Barrel,
Room and Board.)