From: GoldAura11@aol.com
Date: Mon, 30 Aug 1999 00:01:07 EDT
Subject: For The Last Time (1/2)
Source: direct

For The Last Time (1/2)

Rating:  PG

Classification: S, R A

Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance

Spoilers: Duane Barry

Summary: It's a couple days before Christmas
And all through the house
Movers were stirring
Cause Bill and his spouse
Are going to Germmany
Leaving Scully alone
In the States with her mom
Who's confined to her home
Margaret's had a stroke
It wasn't too bad
But she needs 24 hour supervision
Which makes Scully sad
Dana's quitting her job
To take care of mom night and day
She's ready to cry
But feels there's nothing to say
At least not to Mulder . . .

Disclaimer:  Ain't mine.  None of 'em.  Not, Mulder, not Scully, not Bill, 
not Skinner, not Kursh, not Margaret, not even stinkin' Spender . . . ::SOB:: 
 
    Uhh . . . (nervous laugh) no, really, did I say "stinkin' Spender"?!  I 
was, uhh , just kidding.  Really.  Please, you with the autographed t-shirt 
of 'Weasel' (I mean 'Wonderful'!), don't get up.  It was a joke.  Ha ha.  Ok, 
really, you can put the machete down now.  Please?  No really, I was just -- 
AHHHH!!!!!  

Author's Note:  Feedback!  Please!  I'm begging!  On my knees!  Really!  
Responses at GoldAura11@aol.com

    "Ohhh."  Mulder put his head in his hands as he sighed.  He had been 
feeling slightly depressed since Friday; he judged it to be a result of the 
potentially lethal combination of the destruction of his life's work, his 
dead end reassignment, and not seeing Scully all weekend.  When she had left 
to visit her brother's new home in Frankfurt, Germany, Mulder had felt left 
out and neglected. 'Why didn't she invite me?' he asked himself for the 
umpteenth time that morning.  His inner monologue suddenly became a dialogue 
as his good sense chided his lonliness.  'Stop it,' he thought.  'There was 
no reason for her to invite you.  And even if she had, it would've been hell 
for you anyway.  This is Bill we're talking about, remember?  Bill 
I-hate-you-because-you-are-better-to-my-sister-than- 
I-ever-was-and-she-loves-you-more-so-frankly-I-am-jealous Scully?  The same 
Bill who gives you a dirty look every time --'  His stream of self-pity was 
inturrupted by the click of high heels down the outside hall.  He looked up 
from his blank computer screen to see Sculy pushing against the glass door 
leading into the office.  He watched in silent amusement as she nearly 
stumbled over to her desk and folded her arms across it, pillowing her head 
on them.  Her eyes closed, and Mulder couldn't help the giddiness and gleeful 
smile it procured.  She looked like a teenager who had stayed out way past 
her curfew.  "Hey, Scully!"
    He must've been too loud because the room suddenly went quiet.  Dozens of 
heads turned to see what "Spooky" had gotten himself into now.  
    Feeling totally self-concious, Mulder's lips curved up in a twisted smile 
and he gave a tiny wave at the staring faces.  Feeling eyes burning into his 
back, he stood and walked over to Scully's desk, leaning down so that his 
face was nearly even with hers, and whispered, "Good morning."
    The room resumed its usual chatter as everyone began their work again, 
leaving poor "Mrs. Spooky" alone with her work and, of course, her partner.
    Scully opened her eye just a slit.  Mulder's gleeful smile awarded him a 
groan.  "Never," she said slowly, sitting up to lean heavily on Mulder's 
shoulder, "never take the one o'clock night flight home from Germany."  She 
lay he head down on her arm so she was nearly wrapped around Mulder's 
shoulder in an effort to get comfortable.  "And if the person next to you 
gets airsick easily, find it out ahead of time.  Make sure they get the asile 
seat."
    Mulder nearly laughed as he thought of the hellish ride she must've gone 
through.  "Sounds like you had fun."
    Scully lifted her head to look him straight in the eye.  Her lids were 
heavy with sleep, and for a moment Mulder was afraid she was going to yell at 
him, like a bad puppy being admonished by its owner.  He was relieved when 
amusement flickered faintly in her eyes and her lips turned upward almost 
imperecptably. Her head slumped again and her voice came out muffled.   "I've 
never seen Bill so excited by a house.  Or, for that matter, anyone that 
excited about a house, except for maybe the realitor."  She sighed.  "It was 
a little dull for me, though."
    Mulder chuckled.  "You should've invited me.  We would've had lots of 
fun," he teased, raising his eyebrows in his best Groucho Marx imitation
    She lifted her head so her mouth was closer to his ear; that he might 
hear her more clearly.  "I would've brought you.  You know that."
    'No, actually, I didn't,' Mulder thought to himself.  "Then why didn't 
you?"
    "This is Bill, Mulder.  I don't think he --"
    They were inturrupted by A.D. Kursh's voice looming above their heads.  
"Mulder.  Scully."
    Scully quickly pulled herself off Mulder's shoulder and attempted to look 
awake.  She also struggled to hide the blush that had lept unexpectedly into 
her cheeks.  If Kursh saw this, he was too self-controlled to acknowledge it. 
 "Glad to see you've said your hellos," their boss said deeply.  "Perhaps you 
can start working now?'  He handed Mulder a thin manilla folder.  "Your new 
assignment.  Since it's almost Christmas, I decided to go easy on you."
    Mulder's practiced eyes quickly scanned the page.  He looked up, 
incredulous.  "Illegal posession of a handgun by a seventeen year old, sir?"
    Kursh nodded, seemingly pleased by Mulder's annoyed reaction.  "The boy 
claims it's his fathers, and that his birthday is New Years Day anyway, so 
charges should be dropped.  We already have the boy in custody; we just need 
you to verify the facts."
    Mulder stood and left the file on Scully's desk.  "Thank you for going so 
easy on us, sir," he growled, and went back to his seat.  He saw Kursh turn 
to Scully and say, "You really need to get more sleep, Agent."  As the 
Assistant Director left she put her head back down on her desk.
                    *   *   *
    "So should we go 'verify the facts'?  I'm sure this case is of the utmost 
importance."  Mulder looked at Scully, hoping she was awake enough now to 
talk with him.
    "I can't believe we got such a joke assignment, Mulder.  Don't they 
respect us at all?"
    He shook his head at the thought.  "Yeah.  This case is a joke.  But 
could we at least go get lunch?  I'm starving."  Actually, he wasn't really 
hungry, and on a similar note he hoped she couldnt' see through his guise.  
Really, he was just anxious to be with Scully again.
    "Sure.  I'll go get my coat."
    While Mulder stood waiting, Scully's phone rang.  He picked it up.  
"Hello?"
    "May I speak with Agent Scully, please?"  The male voice at the other end 
seemed hurried.
    Just then Mulder realized who it was.  "Bill?"
    "Mulder?"  Bill nearly spat the name in contempt.  "Listen, I really 
don't have time to talk to you."  Mulder heard the scorn in his voice and was 
hurt.  "And what are you doing at Dana's number?"
    Mulder couldn't help the responsive anger in his voice.  "She's my 
partner, Bill."
    "Let me talk to my sister," Bill answered dismissively.
    "I care about her."
    "Let me talk to her."
    "Don't you start --" Mulder was interrupted by Scully tapping on his 
shoulder.
    He turned quickly and handed her the phone.  "Your brother."  Mulder 
watched her face as she listened.  Suddenly she gasped and went white.  "I'll 
be right over," she whispered, and silently hung up the phone.
    "What's the matter?" Mulder asked nervously, half-afraid to find out.
    She looked at him slowly.  "Mom . . . she had a stroke last night.  She's 
in the hospital.  I have to go."  With that, she grabbed her coat and was 
gone.
                    *   *   *
    Mulder came into the hospital with a bouquet of daisies and ferns for 
Mrs. Scully.  The large attending nurse at the fropnt desk told him she had 
been transfered from Intensive Care to a regular room earlier that morning, 
Room 222, and that she was free to have visitors.
    He knocked on the creamy painted door with the brass plate that read 222. 
 Walking inside, he smiled; mother and daughter looked up at the same time to 
see who arrived.  He presented the flowers with a flourish.  "Hi, Mrs. 
Scully.  You're looking well.  Why are we here again?"
    The old woman laughed.  "Hello, Fox."
    Scully got off the bed and smiled directly at Mulder, catching his eye 
and holding it.  Relief washed over her face for a breif moment, and then she 
charicteristically hid it.  Her eyes were puffy and had dark circles under 
them.  She needed sleep.  Badly, he could tell.  Mulder took her into his 
arms and hugged her tightly, wanting to reassure her that everything was all 
right.  "Hey," he said quietly.
    Scully clung to him like a drowning sailor to a life raft.  "Oh, Mulder," 
she sighed, and put her head on his shoulder.  That simply, her eyes slid 
shut, and she felt she could fall asleep standing up if she knew she would 
wake in his arms.
    Scully saw the doctor in the hall through the window of the door.  He was 
motioning for her to join him.  She reluctantly let go of Mulder.
    He looked at her for a moment to long, then went to join her mother.  
Sitting on teh edge of Mrs. Scully's bed, he asked, "So, how are you feeling?"
    Scully left the room and quietly shut the door behind her.  The doctor 
turned.  "Ms. Scully," he began.  "Ummm . . ." he looked at Mulder through 
the glass.  "Your husband?"
    She swallowed.  "No."
    "Oh, sorry.  I -- I wasn't sure."  He shuffledf through the papers in his 
hands.  "Well, Ms. Scully, we got your mother's test results back.  It's just 
as we thought -- nothing extremely serious.   She should be fine by 
tommorrow.  But we can't be sure if she won't have another stroke, and if she 
does, well -- I'm afraid it doesn't look too good.  She going to need 24-hour 
supervision."
    "For how long?"
    The doctor cleared his throat.  "Indefinately.  Possibly for teh rest of 
her life."
    "Oh." Scully sucked in her breath.  Her mother hated nursing homes, and 
Bill lived in Germany now.  Charlie was God-knows where, totally unreachable. 
 That meant . . . God, constant supervision . . . Scully'd have to move in 
with her mother -- she'd have to quit her job!  She turned away from the 
doctor and walked back into her mother's room.  Both Mulder and Margaret were 
laughing.  He stood up.  "What news?"
    Scully forced a smile.  "Mom, you're going to be just fine."
    Mulder grinned.  "That's wonderful!  Well, I had better be going."  He 
stepped toward Scully, and gave her another, breifer hug.  She looked at him 
with a face he had only seen once before, and as he pulled away he feared why 
she looked so sad.
    Little did he know she was imagining life without him.
                    *   *   *


For The Last Time (2/2)

Author's Note: Please see Part One for Disclaimers, Keywords, Ratings, ect.

    Scully walked into Kursh's office and handed him her letter of 
resignation.  His bushy eyebrows arched in surprise as he read it.  "I'm 
sorry to hear you'll be leaving us.  You were a very . . . good agent."
    She nodded, expressionless.  "Thank you, sir."
    Scully visited Skinner next.  His reaction was similar to Kursh's -- 
carefully guarded praise delivered almost severely.  "Well, we certainly 
won't forget you.  You will always have a place at the FBI."  As she was 
leaving, her former superior asked, "How does Agent Mulder feel about this?"
    "He's fine," she lied.  Then she turned, her mouth curled into a bitter 
smile.  "Even puppets know their place."
    Skinner's face registered shock, and she slammed the door behind her.
    Scully climbed aboard the elevator and hit the down button.  'For the 
last time,' she thought morosely.  Her eyes filled with tears and she gritted 
her teeth.  The elevator eased to a stop and she got out, walked to the 
basement office door and paused.  It was there she faultered.  No bars to 
stop the rush of memories; nothing to stop her sorrow from running away with 
her.  What if she went in and didn't leave, but the next morning they found 
her there, bawling?  Squeezing her eyes shut she leaned against the wooden 
door and pushed in.
    The office was there, a shadow of itself.  The geography was the same, 
sure, but the familiar objects were -- different.  The cork board lacked news 
clips and the poster.  'I Want to Believe,' she mused.  The usually cluttered 
desk was neat as a pin, and she bet money Mulder's tapes weren't in that 
drawer, either.  The filing cabinets were shiny and new.  Drawn by a kind of 
morbid curiousity, she slipped out the drawer labeled, 'S' and found the 
manila file with her name on it.  Opening it oh-so-gently, she was shocked to 
see nothing more than a single sheet of white typewritten paper.
    
        Case Subject: Dana Katherine Scully
        Subject Statis: Missing in Action
        Agent in Charge: Special Agent Fox Mulder, Alex Krycek
        Case Summary:  Special Agent Scully was kiddnapped by prison escapee 
and gunshot wounded Duane Barry, a man later determined by authorities to be 
clinically insane.  She dissappeared on June 27, 1994.  Barry was traced to 
Skyland Mountain, where his abandoned car was found, along with evidence that 
Ms. Scully had been locked in the trunk.  When Barry was later taken in for 
questioning, his answers proved unsubstantial and several hours later he died 
from apparent suffocation.  On November 13, 1994 Ms. Scully was found in 
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center where she was deemed in critical 
condition.  Three days later she was taken off life support, and the next day 
she revived.
        Final Case Statis: Unsolved
    
    There were no pictures.  No bags of miniscule evidence carefully 
collected by Mulder in his frenzied search for his partner.  The paper was 
fresh and clean.  The original had been withered, smuged with greasy 
fingerprints and torn in places from the months Mulder had poured over its 
useless information.  
    Behind her, the door opened and someone walked in.  She looked up, 
praying and fearing it was Mulder.  
    It was Jeffery Spender.
    He saw her.  "Scully?  What. . . ."
    She choked back an angry sob as the daydream vanished.  Pushing past him, 
she shot, "Bye, you bastard."
    Once upstairs, Scully picked up her few things from her desk and went out 
to her car.  As she drove, she felt a tear trickle down her cheek.  She just 
wanted to go home, but she owed one, or rather threee, more goodbyes.
    She ran the Lone Gunman's doorbell and looked at the overhead camera.  
'For the last time,' she thought again, and bit her lip.  "C'mon, guys, let 
me in."  Her voice quivered.
    She heard the mutiple locks flipping and Frohike let her in.  "Hey 
Scully, what brings ya round these parts?"  Then he saw the look on her face. 
 "Hey, what . . . what's wrong?" His voice softened in compassion.  "Here, 
come in, sit down."
    Byers and Langly appeared.  "No, I can't stay.  I just had to come say," 
another tear escaped her, ". . . goodbye."
    Byers looked at her in suprise.  "What's wrong?"
    "Mom' sick and needs 24-hour supervision.  I'm the only one to give it to 
her."
    "Oh."  All three looked at each other in dumbfounded silence.  Then they 
walked over and hugged her goodbye, each in turn.
    She started to leave.  Langly touched her shoulder.  "Does Mulder know?"
    Scully shook her head.  "It was too hard . . ." Her voice cracked and she 
left.
                    *   *   *
    Scully had taken a cold shower and was feeling much more composed.  She 
was busy packing the rest of her clothes in a small suitcase.  The movers had 
transferred everything else to her mother's house earlier that day.  She 
looked out the window.  With it slightly open a sharp breeze whistled through 
and carried a piney scent with it.    Because of it the apartment felt more 
Christmas-y, even without furniture.  'Some merry Christmas eve,' she thought.
    Scully brought her suitcase out to the running car.  It had started 
snowing.  Only after she slammed the trunk did she realize she had left the 
window of her apartment open.  She jogged back up the stairs, barely 
silencing her thoughts in time to stop the familiar phrase.  'For the last -' 
    She had just shut the window when Mulder burst in.  Startled, she turned 
around and saw him.  The tiny frosted flakes of snow on his jacket were just 
beginning to melt.
    He looked around the bare apartment.  "Oh my God," he whispered.  "It's 
true."
    She felt the familiar lump rising in her throat.
    "Why didn't you tell me, Scully?"
    She felt her eyes fill with tears.  "I didn't have a choice, Mulder . . 
." She swallowed desperately.  "I -- I couldn't say goodbye."
    He looked at her, hazel eyes large and pleading.  "It doesn't have to be 
goodbye."  Then she saw his eyes, too, were wet with unshed tears.
    "I belong with Mom now."  Her voice quivered.  "She needs me."
    Mulder took Scully in his arms.  His voice lowered.  "I need you too."  
He drew her close; their lips met and he gently kissed her.  When they pulled 
apart, he searched her eyes.  "What do you need?"
    Wrapped in Mulder's strong embrace, she knew exactly what she needed.  
But she couldn't . . .
    Scully pulled away from her former partner.  "I can't . . ."  She walked 
to her door, and turned, framed from behind by the light of the hall.  She 
watched him standing there, hot salty pain flowing freely down his cheeks.  
Watched him for the last time.
    She burst into tears and left.
                    *   *   *
    Scully woke up on Christmas morning before her mother and rushed 
downstairs to count her presents, just as she had done when she was only ten. 
 She lit the Christmas tree, and instantly the room was filled with the 
magical sparkle of fairy lights.  As she sat beneith its piney boughs, she 
realized all she had left behind.  Mulder's face flashed in her mind's eye, 
and she began to cry.
    Mrs. Scully came downstairs to find her daughter sobbing under the 
Christmas tree.  "Oh, Dana, she sighed.  She came down and rocked her gently.
    Feeling her mother's presence, Scully tried to stop crying but was 
unable.  "I'm sorry, Mom," she choked out.
    "There, there, Dana.  I'm sure Santa will bring more presents next year."
    She laughed through her tears.  "I'm sorry," she repeated.  "I feel like 
a two-year old.  Here I am crying on Christmas morning when I'm supposed to 
be taking care of you."
    The old woman smiled sadly at her daughter.  "I don't mean to be such a 
nuisance."
    "You're not," Scully said fiercely.  Then the tears came back.  "It's 
just . . ."
    Mrs. Scully nodded.  "I think there's something you need for Christmas 
that you're not going to get."
    'Need,' Scully echoed.  'It's all about need . . ."
    The graying woman paused and looked at her daughter.  "It's Fox, isn't 
it?"
    Scully looked up in astonishment.  "Wha . . .?"
    A dreamy look crossed Mrs. Scully's face.  "Your father and I . . . we 
were the best of friends.  We knew we loved each other, but not that way.  
And then, well, the draft suprised everyone and it seemed the next morning he 
was gone.  He was uniformed and shipped out as a young naval officer, and I 
honestly didn't know if I would ever see him again.  It was only when we had 
to really face separation that we came to terms with our feelings.  It's only 
in the worst times that you delve deep inside and take stock of your life, 
your emotions.  When he came back, triumphant, a survivor of the war, he 
marched right off that deck and into my arms.  I was never happier . . ."  
Then she snapped out of her cloud.  "I swear to you, Dana, that's the best 
kind of love, one so deep-seeded that you never think to question its nature. 
 And I know love when I see it."
    Scully was staring at her mother, open-mouthed.
    "Don't throw such a beautiful gift away, Dana."
    Scully's eyes moistened and she blinked.  "But how? How do I--"  She was 
interrupted by the shrill chirping of the telephone, and she rose to answer 
it.  "Hello?"
    "Why didn't you tell me Mom needs constant supervision?"
    It was Bill.
    To her horror, Scully was barely able to choke out the words.  "You're 
living in Germany now.  Please, Bill, don't be angry with me."
    Hearing her voice roughen with tears, his own softened.  "Hey Dana, 
what's wrong?"
    "I -- I can't . . ."
    Mrs. Scully reached for the phone.  "Let me talk to him."
    While her mother spoke on the phone, Scully sat on the couch, buried her 
face in a pillow, and sobbed.
    After a few minutes, Margaret turned and handed the phone to her 
daughter.  She was smiling brightly.
    Scully took it in confusion.  Why was her mom so happy?  "Hi again Bill, 
it's me."
    Bill's voice was a mixture of sadness and confusion.  "Geez, Dana, tell 
me next time you fall in love with a guy."
    "Ok, Bill, I'll do that."
    "Well, I didn't get you a Christmas present."
    "What?"
    "My wife and I are at Newark Airport right now.  How about, as a gift, we 
take care of Mom?"
    "For today?"
    "How about . . . forever?"
    "Oh my God."  Scully felt her face grow white.  "But your new house!"
    "Sold it.  It was very hot property, you know.  Besides, family's more 
important than a house any day."
    "Wow.  You . . . you did that for me?"
    Bill seemed shocked.  "Selfish!  Of course not for you.  We did it for 
Mom."  Then he laughed, and Scully was grateful to laugh along with him.  She 
could feel a tremendous pressure rise of her chest.  Abruptly, he spoke 
again.  "But, damn, if I don't owe her fifty bucks.'
    "What?"
    "Uhh, nothing.  We'll probably be there about mid-afternoon.  See ya."
    Scully could hardly believe it.  "I love you, Bill."
    "I love you too."  He hung up.
    Scully carefully replaced the phone on the waiting reciever.  She looked 
at her mother in shock.  Then, slowly, a grin lit up her features.
    "What's this I hear about fifty bucks?"
                    *   *   *
    Mulder lay on his back staring at the flickering fire.  His small 
Christmas tree stood forlornly in the corner, totally devoid of decorations 
except for a small golden star at the very top.  He couldn't bring himself to 
do anything.  He had never felt such apathy in his life.  And he didn't want 
to see or speak to anyone.
    Outside it was snowing.
    He heard the gentle but insistent knocking on the door and groaned.  "Go 
away," he said, half to himself.  He heard the jingle of keys and watched as 
the doorknob turned.  Was it robbers?  Government conspirists?  He didn't 
care.  They couldn't take away his most valuable possesion.  It had already 
been stolen away from him, pulled away against a will so strong it condemned 
itself.  He had played all his cards the night before in a desprate attempt 
to keep her by his side, and it was then he found out that a hand of all 
hearts didn't always win. 
    Mulder heard footsteps, and as he was facing away from the door, he 
couldn't see who it was.  Refused to turn and look.  "Go away," he called 
again.  
    Then he felt warm arms slipped around his waist and a tiny body pressing 
against his.  Someone was burying their face in his neck.  Automatically, his 
arms pulled the body closer, and as his hand settled itself on the back of 
the neck, a shiver ran through the delicate skin.  He wanted to pretend it 
was Scully, never accept the face who was next to him, believe the lie.
    At the same time he knew better.  It wasn't her.  It never would be her.  
Diana, maybe, but not his Dana.  Unwillingly, his eyes cast downward, and his 
heart swelled.
    Red hair.
    "Oh my God, Scully?"  Mulder looked her up and down as if confirming she 
was real.
    She pulled away and he saw her face was glowing with an inner light.  And 
in her eyes, he detected a faint 'I know something you don't know'.  She 
grinned.  "Bill's watching Mom."
    "Just for today?"
    Scully echoed her brother's earlier sentiments.  "Forever."
    Mulder felt his mouth open but couldn't speak.
    She took him into her arms once again.  "He gave me the best Christmas 
present ever."
    She didn't have to say what she had been given.  They both knew, deep in 
their hearts.  Mulder quickly pressed his lips to hers, and as the kiss 
lengthened, they slowly realized it wouldn't be for the last time.