From: "Joy Reeber" Date sent: Sun, 26 Oct 1997 11:22:37 -0500 Title: Last Dance (1/1) Author: joy Rating: PG for adult content Category: SRA Spoilers: Memento Mori Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance. Character dies. Summary: Mulder says goodbye in a dream. Well, since I have actually been encouraged to post some of my insane fanfic, I figured I'd give it a shot. This is dedicated to Karen Rasch and Lydia Bower, who write the best angst I've ever seen, and Michele Tucker, who writes really good fluff, and who asked me for some fanfic. Okay, Michele, this one's for you. Disclaimer: If they were mine, they'd have gotten together in the pilot episode. Therefore, they're obviously not mine. Happy, Chris? Don't sue, as of 10/24 I have precisely...umm...$2.27. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Last Dance" by joy "Mulder, you can't be serious." Dana Scully glared at her partner, who glared right back. "Look at the facts, Scully! What else could have happened to these people? Why, out of a town of over fifty thousand, have these particular guys disappeared?" Mulder ran a hand through his hair, completely frustrated. Why couldn't she just accept the fact that there wasn't always a rational explanation? No, she always had to return to the altar of her precious science. "Mulder, if you want to continue to believe that Smith's confession was bogus, then there's nothing I can do to stop you. But this case has been *closed.*" With these words, she stormed out of their basement office, heading for her car. Mulder sighed. They hadn't really been...together lately, he mused. Ever since that night in Allentown, Scully had been rebuilding walls she hadn't needed since early in their partnership. People who knew them hadn't seen it, but he knew as surely as he knew his partner that Scully was slowly slipping away from him. And there wasn't a thing he could do about it. * * * * * "Scully?" Mulder waited outside her door, listening for any sign of occupancy inside. "Scully, if you're in there, let me in. We really have to talk." After waiting a few more minutes, Mulder took his keys out of his pocket and fingered the one labeled 'Scully'. He knew she would be majorly pissed at him for using it without an emergency, but he'd been fighting a niggling feeling at the base of his spine ever since he left work, and a certainty was growing in him that something just wasn't right. Reaching a decision, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. There were several spots of blood on the floor in the hall. "Oh, Scully," he whispered. Was this why she'd left the office so quickly? He saw the blood almost making a trail toward her bedroom, and he followed, trying to disperse the feeling that said Scully wasn't well. He rounded the corner and stopped abruptly, actually staggering back a step. Blood. Everywhere in the room, but predominantly on the bed, where Scully lay. Fighting down his nausea, he approached quickly and saw, with enormous relief, that she was conscious. Looking at him, in fact. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. He bent over her. "What, Scully?" he murmured gently. He had to strain to hear her reply. "...cold, Mulder. I'm so cold and my head hurts," she mumbled. "God, Scully. We've got to get you to a hospital." Mulder's mind was racing as he dialed the hospital. She must have come home and gotten one hell of a nosebleed. Bile rose in his throat and he tried to control a huge surge of guilt. Would this have happened if she weren't angry when she left? She smiled faintly, even that seeming to take more strength than she had. "...late for that, Mulder...sorry..." And with that, her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness. * * * * * 'Scully.' Mulder paced outside in the waiting room, his mind repeating her name like a mantra. 'Scully. Scully. Scully. Scully. Scully.' A hand on his arm and a familiar voice brought him out of his reverie. "Fox? What happened?" His eyes focused on the short, worried form of Margaret Scully. But before he could answer her, a doctor came striding out of the operating room, looking around purposefully. Seeing them, he hurried over and, introducing himself as Dr. Tucker, asked them to follow him to a room where they could talk. "I'll be frank with you, Mrs. Scully. Your daughter's lost a large amount of blood, and she's slipped into a coma. Right now, there's nothing I can really tell you about what caused her condition. We're running some tests to determine if her cancer has grown." Mrs. Scully gasped, her hand instinctively covering her mouth. "Can we see her?" she asked faintly, afraid for the young man next to her. "Ah...I'm very sorry, but our policy is to only allow one visitor in the room at a time,"the doctor said, his eyes moving expectantly from one to the other. Mulder swallowed. "You go ahead, Mrs. Scully. She's your daughter," he forced out from the ache in his throat. Mrs. Scully only gazed at him for a second, then lowered her head in gratitude. "Fox, I won't take long." She held to her word, knowing that whatever she felt about her daughter was magnified a hundredfold by the young man waiting just outside the door. She told Dana only that she was here, and to hang on for Mulder's sake, before she left the room, having only spent five minutes in the room. After Mulder had gone in, she silently prayed outside, fighting the sick feeling in her stomach that was whispering to her that she had just said goodbye. * * * * * Mulder went to the bed, feeling a sick sense of deja-vu. "You know, Scully," he said, trying to sound casual, "this is really becoming a habit. It's probably not healthy for you to slip into a coma every two years or so." Suddenly unable to continue on that light note, he seized her limp hand fiercely, bringing it to his lips with desperation. "Come back to me, Scully," he pleaded. "You've got to fight this. You told me you'd continue to work, you'd stay with me. Scully, don't leave me. I need you." He waited, tears streaming down his cheeks. There was no reply from the motionless body on the bed. * * * * * Mulder? Can you hear me? I'm trying, Mulder. I'm trying to hold on. It's so dark. I don't know if I can make it, Mulder. I'm so sorry. Mulder? I'm scared. * * * * * "so sorry, Agent Mulder-" "-know how much she meant to you-" No they didn't. No one knew. "-regret your loss-" He closed his eyes, but the voices continued. "-sorry-" "-so sorry-" sorry so sorry sosorrysosorrysosorry... He covered his ears with his hands and screamed. * * * * * He sat on a hard-backed, uncomfortable chair in a ballroom, with no idea of how he got there. Looking up, he saw Scully walking slowly toward him, dressed in a long, flowing gown, her enigmatic Scullysmile on her face. His mind tried to scream at him that this wasn't possible, but he ignored it, his eyes fixed on his partner. "Care to dance, Mulder?" Scully asked him, one eyebrow slightly arched. Rising from the chair, the awareness of a Mulder lying on a couch whimpering in his sleep slipped from him, and he smiled and took her hand. They waltzed around the floor to soft music, and burying his face in Scully's hair, Mulder closed his eyes, savoring the rhythm of their last dance. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Well, that's what happens when a teenager does an angsty story as her first fanfic...scary, huh? I'd love some feedback-loved it, hated it, printed it out and fed it to your dog? Mail me at and let me know! All flames will be forwarded to 10-13 productions.