Date sent:        Tue, 24 Jun 1997 23:45:10 +0100 (BST)
From:             I Horsewell <phuwv@csv.warwick.ac.uk>
Subject:          replacement story


Please replace 'Final Truths' by Ian Horsewell with this revised version.
Thanks...

They're not mine, they belong to Chris Carter, 10:13, Fox TV etc etc. I'm
just borrowing them for a while, so please don't sue me. Besides, I'm a
poor student - what can you do, confiscate my overdraft?

Rating: PG - deals with death.
Category: VA
Spoilers: Memento Mori
Warning: Character dies.
Summary: Mulder's thoughts when Scully hasn't got long left.

Okay, first of all I'd like to say that I haven't seen any of the fourth
season - this is prompted by the other fanfics I've read. So apologies for
any mistakes or obvious inconsistencies. I'm writing it from Mulder's
viewpoint for two reasons; partly because most of the fanfic I've read has
been from Scully's perspective, but mostly because I only have experience
from one point of view.

This story has two dedications:
To everyone who has been or is there.
And for the person who'll never read it; this is for you.

Final Truths 1/1 by Ian Horsewell

  You're just lying there, sleeping. You're always so tired nowadays, always
worn out by the simplest action. It seems so long ago that you told me the
truth. Told me that you were dying, and that there was nothing anyone could
do. I was angry at first; with myself, with them, and even you, a litle. I'm
not really sure why. No, that's not true. I do know why I was angry with
you, even though you were the last person in the world I should have blamed.
  You had kept it a secret so long. Kept the truth from me, and you hadn't let
me be there for you. Though you told me, then and many times since, that I
was there for you in every way that counted. But still I wish that you'd
told me sooner, that I'd been able to do more. I kept telling myself that
there must be something... when you did finally admit that you had no
chance, that the cancer was untreatable, I virtually ran away. Left you
alone when I should have been by your side. Dumped you yet again, as I had
so often before. Now I curse every moment that I spent apart from you.
  I tried, Scully. I tried so hard to find someone, anyone, who could save
you. Rescue you as I could not, stop your body from turning against you. I
hunted them down like animals, promised them that if you died, then they
would die also. That your fate would be theirs. But they could do nothing.
None of them could do a thing to help... even the best could only slow it
down, and at the time I couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse.
  I know now that it was a blessing. Time is always a blessing if you want it 
to be, as long as the quality of life is not the price you pay, if you are 
ready to make sacrifices to ensure that it is worth it. And I was prepared to 
make any sacrifice, pay any price, to make your life as easy as possible.
  But you wouldn't let me, and that is part of you and the person you are.
The person you always have been, and always will be - if only in the memories 
of those left behind. You don't have long left now. I know it, the doctors 
know it, and you know it. God knows, you've made sure that you knew it all, 
all the way down the line, no matter how bleak the picture. You've never tried
to hide yourself from the truth. And as much as I would have liked to pretend,
I couldn't. I couldn't lie, to you or to myself. Not this time. I can't tell
myself that you're fine, and that we have all the time in the world. We don't.
And the time we do have is growing shorter.
  I see the question in their eyes... the doctors, the nurses, your mother
and mine... even your brothers look at me in a new light. Asking the
wordless question, though we've both told them, many times. Skinner actually
came out and asked, thankfully. He's been more of a friend to us than we
ever realised. He's shielded us for so long, protected us as we searched
for the truth. But he can't shield us from this, the final truth. At least he 
asked, instead of just assuming as so many have.
  "Are you and Agent Scully *involved*, Agent Mulder?" The question had been
asked politely, even considerately. It was when you were away one day, when
I'd been called into his office and been unable to concentrate on anything.
I'd already called, and you'd made me promise not to come over until lunch,
to actually finish a report for once. But I couldn't think of anything but
you, ill from the first chemo treatment a few days before. And then his
question, out of the blue.
  I looked up at him, and he met my gaze. That impressed me, and I answered
him like that, looking him straight in the eye. "No, sir. Not like that. And
we never will be." He nodded, breaking eye contact. Not surrendering, just
accepting it. And then he looked back up at me.
  "You know that I've authorised Agent Scully to take as much time as she
needs, whatever the circumstances." It was a statement, not a question; I
had been in the office when he said it. It was my turn to nod.
  "I'm giving you the same authorisation. Whenever, whatever, however long.
No questions will be asked. Is that understood?" I said nothing, simply
nodded again. Then his piercing stare caught me, fixed like an insect. "But
this is to care for her, understood? Any time spent on a private war with...
other interests... will be written up. That will be done on our time, Agent
Mulder. Is *that* understood?" I nodded again. "That will be all." He looked
down, at the files across his desk, and I turned, walked away. Not that I
didn't feel thankful, not that I wasn't grateful for the time away, for the 
time I would share with you. But he already knew that. And saying it aloud 
could not mean anything more.
  After that, I spent a lot of time with you. In or out of work, I was there
when I could be, when you didn't threaten me with physical violence. You
were right to, of course... when you didn't actually want me around, I was
just in the way, and I knew it as much as you did. But when you wanted me,
then I was there. Unquestionning, unfailing. Well, almost. Although you, and
many others, told me time and again that it wasn't my fault, I know that
part of the responsibility was, is, mine. Not all; maybe not even most. But
a little.
  I've never told you how much you mean to me. Never told you how I'd take
your burden, your illness, in a second if I could. If you would let me. But
you know it, all the same. Since you took a turn for the worse, I've been at
your side almost all the time. Been here through the good times and the bad
times, like any friend would. But not just any friend.
  I've been here when you seemed almost okay, when we dared to think, just
for a moment, that the cancer might have gone into remission. That you
might, after all, be saved from this. That somehow I could bring you back as
it seems I have so many times before. Regardless of the fact that you've
saved my life at least as many times, if not more, than I have yours. I still
feel that it should be my responsibility. My role in life to keep you safe.
So much for me... a frustrated big brother, I guess. 
  And I've been here for the last few months, as you've let me take care of 
you, no pride between us any more. I'll never know why you let those last 
barriers come down. Why you finally decided that I could, at last, take care 
of you as I had wanted to for so long. It was before that last report from the
doctors, the scientists. Before the experts shook their heads, not speaking, 
and turned away from us.
  Because it was us, by then. You asked me to come over, and asked if I would
help. Not proud any more, not afraid that I would be repulsed. You're so weak,
and so tired all the time. They can't do anything about the anaemia any more, 
and suddenly you're worn out by the simplest action. But I'm here to support 
you, to make you smile, to crack stupid jokes just so you don't give up. I 
won't let you surrender to this as long as you don't want to. As long as you 
still want to fight, I'll fight it for you. I promised you that... three weeks
ago, though it feels like a lifetime. I promised that if you ever needed a 
champion, then I would be happy to volunteer. You just looked at me and 
smiled. But you knew I meant it, and you knew it before it passed my lips. As 
you've known, and accepted, many things that still remain unsaid.
  We're closer now than we've ever been. I'm your carer, and your nurse.
I've learnt what I didn't know, and used intuition for the rest. Used
reserves I didn't know I had, done things I never thought I could. I've seen
the ugly side of cancer, the things they don't show in made-for-television
movies. I've held your thinning hair out of your way as you've vomited into
the toilet bowl. I've changed the bed covers every day. I've bathed you like
a child. I've bandaged the cuts that won't heal, held ice-packs against the
bruises you develop so easily. I've been there when you needed me, and
stayed away when you needed to be by yourself. Which was harder than being
at your side.
  But your gentle smile, in your eyes so often because you're too tired even 
to lift the corners of your mouth, tell me that you don't mind, that you 
accept the help I'm almost afraid to offer. We're closer than husband and 
wife, closer than lovers, but that is the one thing I've never offered, even 
wordlessly.
  No mournful looks, no careless touches. There's still plenty of innuendoes,
but no more than there were back when we were partners, before this thing
invaded your body. I hold you when you cry, support you when you're tired,
reassure you when you're uncertain. But always as a friend. Never more than
that... somehow we're more intimate, not less. I've never said it aloud and
neither have you. I doubt I ever will. But you know it, and that is enough.
  It's near the end now. You are so thin, your body exhausted from the
constant battle. We know that you've not long left. You know as well, and
not long ago you asked the doctors to go, to switch off the monitors, to leave
you here with your mother and me. Your instructions are well known, and none 
of us would dispute them, least of all me. Last time, I did... but then you'd 
not had time to consider, to think it through. Now it is different; the 
letters on your file, D.N.R., are a final blessing, not a cruel punishment. 
Though that is hard to bear in mind as I look at you, here in this hospital 
bed.
  You are pale and fragile... I fear that a simple touch will shatter you.
The strength that has sustained you is almost gone, and I cannot help you
any more. Except by being here, as you turn your head to look at me. The
tiredness in your eyes is contradicted by the faint smile on your face... I
dare not tell you how beautiful you are to me, how much I love you. But you
nod as I look down at you, wordless. You understand. You turn back to your
mother, allowing me to wipe away my tears. It is not the first time I have
cried for you; it will not be the last. You say something, murmering, and then
turn back to me, only your head moving, nothing else. Your eyes focus on me and
you whisper faintly; "Luminous beings are we..." I smile despite myself,
a bittersweet smile of love and pain, as I finish the quote that once, so long
ago, I had told you. My mind flashes back to that...

  ****

  I am behind you, helping to brush your hair. It's not long after the chemo
started, but both of us have half-expected this. The brush comes away from
your head with more hair than it should. Leaving not a bald spot, but a thin 
patch, an area that holds a brutal promise. And as you turn to me, swallowing 
hard to keep from crying, I quote that line to you. And you laugh through the 
tears, burying your face in my chest, arms tight around me, holding me close.

  ****

  I swallow hard again as my voice threatens to break. "...not this crude
matter." I am rewarded by a hint of a smile, and then you speak again.
  "I'm so tired, Mulder... mind if I sleep, for a while?" I shake my head,
afraid to speak at first. The I murmer, "Goodnight, Scully... sleep well." I
lean over and kiss you on the lips, as I have so often, a kiss of friends.
But of friends who understand the love between them and accept it.
  Your eyes close, and Maggie and I glance at each other, before our gaze
returns to the woman on the bed between us. Frail, so fragile, but holding
the memory of all you have ever been. And we try to put aside the memories
of our hopes and dreams, the promises unfulfilled. They don't matter anymore.
  Your breathing is shallow as you sleep, lightly, not really in much pain, 
not any more. You're beyond that now.
  Your breathing slows... and then it stops.
  It is a long time before either of us get a nurse.

  THE END

Comments would be gratefully appreciated. I can't judge this one
objectively... much too close to home. So please, feedback! 

Ian Horsewell            8^)            University Of Warwick
i.j.horsewell@warwick.ac.uk - http://www.warwick.ac.uk/~phuwv
--- Living is the only thing in the world worth dying for ---