From: Leonora O'Reilly Date: Thu, 7 Jun 2001 21:51:34 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Eternity Source: direct Title: Eternity Author: Leonora O'Reilly Summary: Scully never ages, but the world around her does. Now that she is a mother and a wife, the curse of immortality becomes quite clear. Spoilers: Tithonus, Existence. Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance. Character death. Angst. Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. 1013 does. No copyright infringement is intended. Feedback: It's warmly appreciated: gillyfanatic@yahoo.com A huge amount of thanks goes to Angela, DuranRosa, and Julie for editing. Author's Note at the end. ................................................................................ Prologue. "I'm here," I whisper, tears rolling down my face, "I'm here, darling..." His eyes flutter open and I smile down at the seventy-six year old man lying in the hospital bed beside me. We both know that he's dying, but neither of us wants to say it to the other. I'm barely conscious that I've started sobbing now. He takes my hand, trying to comfort me. I love him so much. "Is this your father?" a nurse asks, putting her arm on my shoulder. "No... he's my son." I. Seventy Two Years Earlier... "I don't know quite how to ask this, Scully." "Ask," I beg him, knowing full well what the question is. "Do you feel like pizza or Chinese tonight?" I glare at him playfully. "Okay," he says, pausing for what feels like years, "Will you... no, that's so predictable. What I mean is..." "Yes!" I cry prematurely. He grins, handing me a little box, which had better not contain a key chain. "Mulder... It's beautiful." "It was my mother's," he says, as I slip the ring on my finger. I wrap my arms around him tightly. "I love you," I murmur. "I love you too," he whispers, "You and William..." "We're going to be so happy," I tell him meaningfully, "We're finally going to be happy." II. Eighteen Years Later... "You were really rocking the cradle with this one," an intoxicated old friend of Mulder's informs him, making a motion towards me. I hate parties. "I'm only two years younger," I say, attempting to be civil. "Nice seeing you, Bob," Mulder mumbles, ushering me in another direction. We immediately run into a more tactful couple, engaging in less offensive conversation. My mind wanders back to the man's comment. No one has said anything like that in a long time. My hand instinctively touches my wrinkleless face. I'm fifty-four years old. Then again, I've always kept good care of my skin. Maybe all those anti-aging creams I used in my thirties worked wonders. My eyes shift to Mulder. We've never discussed the subject. All I know is how uncomfortable he seems when anyone mentions our seemingly large age gap. I guess it makes him feel insecure. I loop my arm through his for reassurance. He looks down at me and smiles. I love it when he smiles. The rest of the night goes smoothly. We arrive home at one o'clock. Will is still at a friend's Graduation party. "You know," Mulder says, "I'm going to miss that kid when he goes to college, but I'm sure we'll think of ways to pass the time." I grin, putting my arms around him, "And just what do you have in mind?" "Come here and I'll show you." God, I love him. III. 22 Years Later... "We'll never see each other again," he says tearfully. "We will," I say stubbornly, "Of course we will." Will and Nancy are standing behind me, neither one knowing what to say. "The doctors don't give me much longer," Mulder tells me, staring into my eyes. "I love you." They're the only words that come to mind. The only thing I can tell him that isn't a lie. "Look at you," he says, with sudden anger in his voice, "You haven't changed. We've been married for forty years! You look exactly the same! Exactly! You're in perfect health, Scully. I'm grateful of that. I really am. But..." "But what?" "But we'll be separated forever. We both know that I'm going to die in this hospital bed, but you never will." The anger has turned to sadness just as quickly as it came. "No one lives forever, Dad." "Your mother isn't no one," Mulder reminds him. "Excuse me for a moment," I say, rushing to the ladies room. I don't want Mulder to see me cry. Some things never change. It'll give Will a chance to talk to his Dad. I smile, thinking about how much Will and Nancy are like Mulder and myself. They still have many precious years ahead. I catch my reflection in the mirror. He's right, of course. Mentally, I am seventy-six years old. I have lived a long life. Physically, I am still about thirty-four. I am not unaware of the significance of this. I was thirty-four when I was shot in Alfred Fellig's apartment. That shot should have been fatal. It's ironic that the bullet that should have ended my life caused it to go on forever. When Fellig died, I felt like a fool for believing in his immortality. The possibility of my own immortality crossed my mind for a fleeting moment, but I dismissed it. I didn't believe it was possible. I didn't want to believe it was possible. I still don't, especially not now. I keep thinking back to Fellig's story of trying to find his wife's records, only to discover that he had forgotten her name. Will that be me someday? Unable to remember Mulder's name? I begin crying harder than I've ever cried in my entire life, as if all the tears I've held back over the years are finally being released. I slump to the floor, my whole body shaking from the sobbing. I don't know what to do. I feel helpless. Trapped. Miserable. After a few minutes, I muster up the strength to stand. I stare into the mirror solemnly until there is no trace of my tears. I can't let him see me cry. IV. 27 Years Later... I'm staring at my daughter-in-law's headstone. Nancy Mulder. Wife. Born 2002. Died 2068. "How do you deal with it?" Will asks, "How are you able to go on without Dad?" "It's not easy," I tell him, "I think about your father every day." My eyes move towards Mulder's grave. F. William Mulder. Husband. Father. 1960-2041. My name is beside his. Dana Katherine Mulder. Wife. Mother. 1964-. It's like a question begging to be answered. I'd love to fill in that blank space with a number. I'd give anything to join my husband here. I wish that I could trade places with Nancy. I wish that she and Will were standing here, smiling because they knew I was reunited with Mulder. Why couldn't it be me? Please God. Take me. Give Nancy back to Will. Not surprisingly, the heavens don't open up and grant my request. I look at my son, remembering the first time I held him as a baby. I was so relieved that he was all right. The image of Will as a baby is quickly replaced with that of a grieving old man. "I miss her so much," he says, lowering his head to my shoulder. It makes me feel like his mother again. "I know it hurts, Will, I know it hurts..." Standing here, this doesn't feel right. I'm not meant to be here. I shouldn't even be alive. My only solace is that I'm here to comfort Will. I cling to my son, silently begging him to never leave me. I know it's an impossible wish, but the mere thought of Will dying makes me want to cry. A mother's greatest fear is the loss of her child, no matter how old that child is. V. 5 Years Later... "Is this your father?" a nurse asks, putting her arm on my shoulder. "No... he's my son." I'm sure she doesn't believe me, but it doesn't matter. "Honey, why don't you go get some coffee?" The nurse looks at me with pleading eyes. "I think I should stay here," I tell her, my eyes darting back towards Will. "Go ahead, Mom," Will says weakly. I stare into his eyes. I have the strangest feeling that he's waiting for me to leave so that he can die. He doesn't want me to have to watch my son die, but I can't let him die alone. "I won't leave you. I'm your mother." "You've been here for hours. It'll be okay." "I love you," I say, giving him this victory. "I love you too." I am barely conscious of the walk down the corridor, hitting the correct floor for the cafeteria in the elevator, or buying the coffee. I crumple into an orange vinyl chair, staring blankly at the steaming cup of coffee. I feel absolutely alone. I've been alone many times in my life, especially before I was married, but I don't think I've ever felt so hollow. There's only one person left on this planet that means anything to me, and he's dying. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I keep repeating the mantra in my head. After all, what is there to live for? Nothing. Everything is nothing. I want to die. Thunder crashes outside, breaking my thoughts. I quickly turn to the window behind me. The dark stormy weather seems representative of the turmoil inside my brain, I think miserably. Turning back to the table, I notice that my coffee is no longer hot. I drink some anyway, not knowing what else to do. My brain eases into blankness. As I sat there on that stupid orange chair, sipping lukewarm coffee, my only son died in his sleep. The doctors assured me that he was very much at peace. VI. 10 Years Later... "You're lucky to be alive." "Oh, you think so?" "Yes." "Well, what do you know?" I sound defiant, but I'm only exhausted with his questions. I stare at the doctor in front of me. He's in his mid-forties. A baby. "Why did you do it?" I don't answer. "You know what I'm talking about, Dana. Why did you jump in front of that bus?" "What makes you assume that I jumped? It could have been an accident." "There were at least ten witnesses who swear that they clearly saw you jump." I shift in my chair, not wanting to acknowledge what he's saying. "Why would you want to do that?" "To die." "Clearly. But why? You're a young woman. Surely you've got a lot more to live for." His words are painful- even more painful than the bruises that the bus caused. The bus was a mistake. The doctor keeps talking, but I'm no longer listening. My focus is on my next attempt. There has to be a way. Fellig simply hadn't tried hard enough. Several attempts at death later, I was no closer to my goal. In the end, I killed Dana Scully the only way I could. I changed my name and records: a fresh start. Epilogue. 12 Years Later... I'm standing at the saddest grave I have ever seen. Samantha Mosier. Born 2061. Died 2095. It just seems so unfair. Her life was cut so short. She had so much more to live for. We hadn't even had any kids yet. Samantha loved kids. I glance around at the array of sympathetic faces. Most of them are my family. She was an only child; both of her parents are dead. I can't believe she's really gone. It all happened so fast. It was raining and our car swerved off the road. I woke up in the hospital with severe injuries; the doctors were shocked that I survived. Samantha, on the other hand, only had a few scratches, but she was found dead at the sight. There was no medical explanation. It doesn't make any sense. I picture her on our wedding day. She wore a simple white dress, but she looked beautiful. Her blue eyes looked so hopeful that day. "We're going to be so happy," she had told me. I look down at her headstone, crouching to place the flowers I've brought. They don't seem like enough. She's dead at the age of thirty-four. I feel the hot tears drip down my face. She was too young to die... ................................................................................ Author's notes: I'm absolutely fascinated with Scully's immortality and its implications. Bringing a son into the equation makes it all the more interesting to think about. I know I'm not the world's best writer, and there are many people who could tackle this subject with more grace and eloquence. I'm going for simplicity. It would be impossible to chronicle Scully's entire future, so I chose major events that she would inevitably have to face. I hope that it's somewhat enjoyable. Thanks for reading. 5/29/01