From: "Trixie ." Date: Mon, 24 May 1999 08:25:20 GMT Subject: NEW: "Epilogue" (1/1) Title: Epilogue Author: Trixie Email: scullymulder1121@hotmail.com Classification: V, MSR (and FDR!) Rating: PG Spoilers: Only for the imaginary series finale in my head . . . Summary: The Ending is the Beginning. Notes: K . . . this popped into my head whilest I was staring at a computer screen at work . . . demanded to be written not long after viewing Biogenesis . . . although there's nothing relating to Biogenesis in this . . . so . .. *shrug* guess I'm just anticipating the series finale as much as everyone and thought I'd give what *I* determined to be a cool way for it all to end . . . of course I realize it will never in a million years happen, but hey . . .that's why God brought forth FanFic. :) Dedication: To Brynna, Brandon & Eve - da bestest lil motivators there are! It's because of them I'm posting this at all, rather than leave it sit on my hard drive to gather dust with the rest of my hair-brained schemes . . (Plus, I'm afraid Eve will kick my ass if I don't post this ;-)) *Mwah* to all of you. Disclaimer: Not mine; although if they were gonna pick ONE story to sue over . . . . ~ Epilogue ~ He sat in what was left of his office. He couldn't really call it his anymore, he reflected. After all, it was once again merely a storage facility for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Everything from the clippings on the bulletin board, to his I Want to Believe poster, were gone. Even the pencils he'd begun to throw like darts at the ceiling in a fit of boredom and soon found amused him to no end. More to the point, it amused him to watch others take in the sight and try to conceal their confusion. He did not sit in a chair behind his desk as usual; he sat Indian style in the middle of the room, taking in the bare walls that soon would be covered with boxes and charts and other odds and ends that decorated the other storage facilities. His quest, his crusade had gone as quickly and as suddenly as it began almost thirty years ago. An alliance reached with alien rebels prevented the colonization of the planet. Those same rebels gave him the one thing he'd always sought after: his sister. Samantha - the =real= Samantha, and not one of her clones he'd been deceived by before - was once again in his life. She wasn't distant, as he'd fear she'd been; wasn't so out of it that she retreated into a shell of her former self. If anything, she acted like a POW. She retained memory of the time she was gone, but not specifically of time past. In many ways, she was still like an eight year old little girl. In many ways, she was older than anyone he'd ever known. For now, he took care of her, living in relative peace and quiet in the small house he'd purchased for them in Virginia. They had wanted to commit her, citing her unstable medical condition and possible mental deterioration as reason. Scully had stopped them; Scully had convinced them that she was no threat, that Scully herself would be more than happy to live with them until Samantha assured all those who doubted of her fitness, physical, mental and emotional. The first time she called him Foxy Loxy again he almost cried. It was of little surprise to Mulder how happy he'd been of late. What truly got him was how much he didn't miss the X-Files. They'd been closed down, of course; this time, for good. In reality, there was really no need for them to continue, not because of any quest or government conspiracy. It all came and went without the mass populace ever becoming the wiser. He and Scully had, in effect, with all dramatic license aside, saved the world. And no one but themselves and a handful of nefarious shadow men would ever know. When Mulder thought of having Samantha back, it didn't bother him at all. "Mulder, you do realize you no longer have an excuse to stay here after midnight, don't you?" Turning, Mulder regarded his former partner affectionately. "Just saying goodbye, you know?" he murmured, his eyes drawn again to the barren room. "I know," she murmured, and as she stepped into the room, her eyes drawn to the very places he'd been studying moments before, he realized that she'd come here for the exact reason he had. "Endings are always sad, aren't they?" he commented, forcing himself up to a standing position a few feet from her. Her fingers slid over the cool metal of the sink. "Bittersweet," she corrected, looking up at him. "Our ending is definitely bittersweet, Mulder." "Are we ending?" he asked before he could stop himself. His voice had taken on an inquisitive quality; his tone implied more than his words. "Our partnership was officially dissolved when I resigned from the Bureau," she spoke carefully. "Your resignation a few days later seems to cement that reality." She paused, her lips pursing slightly. "That's an ending of sorts." "Professionally, we've ended," he allowed, moving a little closer to her until only a few inches separated them. "But what about everything else Scully?" he asked, lowering the register of his voice a few meters. "I mean . . ." he bit his lower lip; gnawed on it for a moment. "Is that all we've been to each other? Professional partners?" "No," she answered easily without a moment's hesitation. "Of course not Mulder," she continued. "I wouldn't be staying with you now, helping you and Samantha if all I were extending was a professional courtesy." Her brows furrowed. "Mulder I don't know how to do this," she confessed. "Do what?" he asked softly, bending his torso so that they were almost eye level with one another. "To . . . shift," she finally settled on, raising her eyes to his. "I don't know how to be something else; something new to you," she confessed. Tentatively, Mulder reached a hand out to her, cupping her jaw in his palm. "I think," he began gently, "that no one knows how to be something to someone else." "That's not true," she muttered. "I know how to be your partner; I know it better than I know anything else." "Scully?" he asked softly, and waited until her eyes met his again. "Quit analyzing and go with it," he suggested, lowering his head before she could respond. "Fox," she whined through the door. "Come on, you've been in there for almost an hour! It's the last two pages and I'm going crazy; not to mention getting cranky," she mumbled pointedly. "Babe, I promise, I'm almost done," he called back, keeping his temper in check. "The longer you nag, the longer before you can read it." He heard her grumble from the other side of the door. It sounded suspiciously like 'I'll show you nagging, buddy,' but he couldn't be sure. His fingers flexed and once again poised themselves over the keys. The kiss wasn't more than a brush of their lips; Mulder pulled back before he was tempted to take things further before things were settled between them. He felt her fingers thread lightly through his hair; her touch was gentle, almost maternal in nature. "Let's go home Mulder," she whispered, grasping his hand with her own. Nodding, he allowed her to lead him out of what was once his office. For the first time in a long time, he couldn't wait to see what tomorrow would bring. Smiling a satisfied smile, Fox Mulder hit save a few times, immediately followed by the print button. Dana - despite his many attempts to teach her - steadfastly refused to use the computer, citing it as 'the downfall of mankind'. Chuckling, Fox had to admit it was one of the most amusing facets to his wife's personality. She was a brilliant Doctor; she instantly put all the children whose lives she touched at ease and they called her Dr. Dana. Their own children, in fact, took to calling their mother Dr. Dana to tease her. Print complete, Fox picked up the papers and opened the door, jumping slightly as Dana snatched the pages from his hands. "About time," she grumbled. "Jeez - you tell me you're ending your seven year project with no other warning and you expect me to be patient," she called as she already began reading en route to the couch. Watching her in bemusement, Fox followed her and took a seat next to her on the couch. Immediately, she curled her head into his lap, her eyes never leaving the pages. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp as she read the last pages of his 'saga' intently. Always beautiful, Dana became more so to him whenever she was focused on something; so intent that nothing short of a nuclear explosion, or a pained cry from him or one of the kids could pull her out of it. It flattered him to no end that his meager writings could inspire her stillness. "That's it?" he heard after a long silence. A smirk he couldn't quite contain spread across his face. "What?" he asked innocently. "Seven years of sexual tension without so much as a peck and you end it with the kind of kiss I give my brother?" she squawked, tossing the paper to the table. "What, you want something more . . . satisfying?" he whispered into her ear. "I thought we could save that for later." Squirming in his arms until she sat on his lap, their faces even, she placed her hands on his shoulders. "Fox, I know what happened and you know what happened, but how on Earth do you expect the rest of the audience to draw that same logical conclusion?" she asked, single eyebrow artfully raised. He sighed. "Dana," he moaned, leaning back into the couch in an effort to bring her body more firmly against his. "I've told you this over and over again," he began. "This entire project was designed as a stress reliever and a way we could live out our more adventurous notions without endangering ourselves or the kids," she recited with him. "Yea, I know," she continued. "And it's worked - beautifully, for the last seven years. I read these little installments you write for me after we've fed the kids and been dutiful parents. We go to bed and we act out the resolution of 'Mulder' and 'Scully's' sexual tension on each other." She placed a quick kiss to his mouth. "It's great foreplay," she assured him. "I just think . . . Fox, I think you're brilliant," stated simply. "You've mentioned," he reminded her, pressing his lips against her forehead. "Just think about it; The X-Files TV show," she whispered enticingly, brushing her lips against his throat. He hated when she did that while they were arguing; it always made him lose. "My students would never let me hear the end of it," he complained, his hand wandering beneath her sweater to play with her skin lightly. "You can handle a bunch of psychology majors and their teasing," she promised, pulling his earlobe between her teeth. "Fox . . . I can't make you do this," she conceded, letting her own hands wander past the boundaries of his clothing. "That's right," he agreed, feeling himself slip into his 'Mulder' persona almost effortlessly. It amazed him how he could wake up with her each morning, yet after only a few hours in the 'other' Fox Mulder's head he could feel as though he was starving for her. The characters he 'borrowed' from his and Dana's imagination honestly took on a life all their own. She told him once that she became so consumed in 'Scully' that she almost forgot he didn't even =have= a sister. "But," she whispered, sliding her legs until she straddled his waist, her mouth finding his in a blatantly erotic kiss. "But what Scully?" he asked, their more than healthy fantasy life asserting itself as he slipped into his 'role'. "But I can sure as hell have fun trying to," she promised as she descended for another kiss. Internally thanking her for sending the kids to their grandparents, he decided to let her convince him. Both Fox Mulder's loved their Dana Scully's, almost to the point of obsession, he reflected as she pressed him back into the couch. They both respected them and trusted them beyond anyone or anything; beyond reason or logic. They would both die for them. True, he had created these 'characters' to give them both an outlet; a kind of preservation for the rest of their lives. Proof, he mused as he ran his fingers through her hair, that he truly had loved her beyond measure. It had turned into more than that. The characters had gotten away from him somewhere along the way, becoming textured and more real than Fox and Dana play Secret Agents. In some abstract way, with Dana as his inspiration, he'd found away for them to be each other's heroes in ways they never would've without their imaginations. Every time Scully saved Mulder, or Mulder saved Scully, he was a vow, from him to her that he =would= cross the Earth barefoot for her; an assurance that he =knew= she would do the same for him. He'd resisted the idea of selling them off; of allowing them to become a part of anyone else. He didn't want to share her. He'd never told her that, but it was the thing holding him back; he didn't want to share his wife. Some weird part of his brain felt as though he'd be losing her if he did. It was ridiculous, he decided. Hell, if this thing was a hit, they could buy that house in Vancouver and sock away a few bucks for the kid's college fund. He'd let her convince him, he decided as he sunk into the couch further with her. Neither of them had any desire for fame, but that was all right; he could fix that. Later, he'd call up his buddy Chris; this was right up the guy's ally. ~ END Explanations: FDR = Fox Dana Romance. What, you wanted an explanation for the insanity? *laughs maniacally* Believe you me, if you find an explanation for MY insanity, I damn well expect to hear about it, k? :) Please send some feedback on your way out.