From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Sat, 6 Jan 2001 08:47:35 -0600 Subject: A Journey To The Top Of The Earth by Meliss Source: direct Reply To: Macimillon@aol.com Title: A Journey to the Top of the Earth Author: Meliss Rating: PG Classification: MSR/Post Mulder Return, Skinner POV Spoilers: general knowledge, especially of seasons 7 & 8 Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Not now, not ever. All characters are property of Fox, CC, DD, GA, and MP. Summary: It has been four years since they retired. Can Skinner find the courage to ask for their help? Archive: Sure thing, just drop me a line informing me where. Feedback: Why of course, let me know what you think.... Author Notes: This is a sequel to The Ground Floor. I never planned on writing one, but I just had the itch, so I indulged the craving to scratch, and the product is this fic. Thanks to Evie, for posting for me, again, since my account still has not come through. Also, last but certainly not least.....thanks to Angel, the best beta in the whole world, who listens to my incessant rambling every day. As my car rounds the corner, I get a breath taking view of the ocean. I never expected to be so enchanted by such a relatively small nook, hiding on the edge of the East coast. The locals sit on their porches, looking relaxed, sipping their coffee, as I drive past. I suppose they enjoy this time of year, the weather is starting to cool, and the tourists are leaving to go back to their permanent homes. I never wanted to come here. I promised myself a thousand times that I would not disturb them. Every mile I drive increases my apprehension. I shouldn't be here. They retired, wanting to be left alone. I'm scared they will ask me to leave, but I fear more that they will listen to me. I want them to listen, but if they do, I know it will upset the tranquility they have found in this peaceful haven. My fear is that they will reluctantly make the decision to help. Inadvertently sucking them back into the secrets and lies which makes up the government's underbelly. Already escaping it once, I cannot be certain that they would be willing to do it again. There is so much more at stake now. If only I could do it without them. I'm not sure I can. This is too big for me to do alone, and knowing who to trust is the roulette game that it always has been. Turning onto their street, I admire the beauty around me. Green grass and a view of the ocean. What a perfect place to raise a child. I see their house, and pull to the side of the road. Refraining from turning into their drive just yet, I still have to find my nerve. It has been four years since that day in the hospital, the day the fat lady sang. I've seen them only a few times since then. Once, at a wedding. My secretary married two years ago, and invited them to the reception. I couldn't believe how happy they looked. Mulder stood with a glass of punch in one hand and their daughter in the other while Scully handed tiny bites of food to the toddler. We spoke briefly, and then I didn't see them again until last year. Apparently they decided to wait on their daughter's Christening. I always thought that people Christened their children as infants, but then again it doesn't surprise me that they chose to wait until she was three. They never have followed the rules, or obeyed etiquette. The invitation came by mail, and since it was in a Catholic church near by, I went. It was a short service, followed by a small party at Margaret Scully's house. I only stayed for an hour and then left quietly, not wanting to say good-bye. Finally I find the guts to open the car door, but stop with my hand on the handle when I see them. Dressed in jeans and sweaters, they are walking across the yard, headed in the direction of the beach. Mulder has a blanket draped over one arm, and Scully is holding a basket. Emma is walking between them, holding both their hands. I can see the smiles on their faces, and faintly hear the laughter. I quietly slip out of the car, walking around the side to lean against the hood. Mulder spreads the blanket out on the sandy beach while Scully places the basket to the side. My two favorite ex-agents sit on the blanket and prepare for their picnic as their daughter plays beside them. The sunlight glistens off her golden blonde hair, as her petite, slender body squats down while she plays in the sand. Why am I here? How can I disturb that? How could I live with the sin of damning them back to their previous life, one full of tragedy and despair? I can't. I won't. Walking back around to the driver's side door, I open it and get in. Turning the car around, I drive away. As I head out of town, I know I made the right decision. The locals are still sipping coffee on their porches, most likely happy to watch one more leaving their precious place. As I drive, I glance in my rear view mirror and see the spectacular view that is still visible in the distance. I feel like I'm leaving the top of the world and once again driving back to earth, where another battle of apocalyptic conspiracy awaits for me to crusade alone. The End Thanks for reading! Please send all feedback to Macimillion@aol.com Thank you!