From: LAinNJ@aol.com
Date: Fri, 11 Sep 1998 10:49:18 EDT
Subject: Losing Scully (1/1)


TITLE: "Losing Scully"  (1/1)
AUTHOR: L.A.
E-MAIL: LAinNJ@aol.com

CATEGORY: V/A, after all is said and done...
RATING: PG-13 for a little language.
SPOILERS: I hope everyone has seen TXF by now and can honestly say that Mulder
and Scully belong together, in one sense or another.
KEYWORDS: MSR
SUMMARY: Mulder reflects on losing Scully.

ARCHIVE INFO: Post it anywhere you feel it is good enough to post. Just give
me a shout and remember my name and addy when doing so.

FEEDBACK: I want to hear how sucky you think this is. It would make my day go
oh so much better. ;o) LAinNJ@aol.com

DISCLAIMER: If they were mine, I wouldn't have to worry about how the bills
were going to be paid. I am merely borrowing them from that visionary, Chris
Carter and his 1013 Production Company, and from Gillian Anderson and David
Duchovny, the life, heart and soul of Scully and Mulder. The constantly amaze
me. So...please don't sue. I can think of hundreds of other things to do other
than that.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I am a fence sitter when it comes to affairs of Mulder and
Scully's hearts. I believe there is a time and place for everything. And I am
also primarily an angst writer. If forced to write a fluffy bunny story, I
would have to run screaming into the night. That said, this story is born out
of a late and frustrating work night, with countless ideas swimming in my
head, vying for attention, and my drive home, which found me listening to an
old Phil Collins CD "Hello, I Must Be Going", truly one of his finest works.
I'm not going to say that a particular song inspired me, but the album is
referred to as his "Divorce Album". Add all this together and you get the
sense that I wondered how Mulder would feel and react if he and Scully were to
break it off. And what would he do if it was because of him. I hope I got it
right. Enjoy.

DEDICATION: to chris, as always, for understanding that i HAD to write this
instead of finishing the end of our joint writing effort. ;o) and also to
amanda for being my writer's guinea pig. mucho appreciated!


LOSING SCULLY
by L.A.

xxxxxxxxxx

I have lost Scully.

I don't mean I have lost her the way a child gets separated from his mommy,
although on days like today, when my mind gets to thinking too hard, I wish
that were the case. I mean I lost her. Lost her heart. Lost her soul.

Lost her love.

Ugh...the ultimate in failure. I lost my true love's very essence of being.
How, you may wonder. It wasn't easy but I certainly managed to do it just
fine. Never let it be said that I did anything half-assed. No -- when I set
out to do something, I set out to do it right. I took both my hands and shoved
her away, not realizing the consequences of my actions. And instead of her
stumbling back and waiting for me to realize my fuck up, once again, she left
me.

And now I'm alone.

It's been almost a year to the day. And I still haven't been able to muster
the courage to tell her I'm sorry. That I was wrong. That I need her.

Need. What a miserable way to be. I NEED her. I need her to bounce my ideas
off of. For her to search for her beloved science in my beloved science
fiction. For her to wake up in my arms, with me gently kissing her shoulder
and running my fingers through her beautiful auburn hair.

She's in another man's arms now.

xxxxxxxxxx

She met him soon after we split apart. Excuse me -- after I pushed her away.
That day is forever burned in my brain, taking residence with the ghosts of
Sam's disappearance, Scully's cancer and my own demons that continue to plague
me. 

It was a routine case. I threw myself into it, looking for what wasn't there,
as usual, and setting a torch to several bridges that I had been balanced
precariously upon. Scully was trying her best to reel me back in, to ground
me. To save my career, which at that moment, due to my own actions, was going
down in flames huge time. Needless to say, I was furious. At her, at the case,
at myself. But I took it out on the one person I shouldn't have. Not ever in
this lifetime.

She told me I was going down and that I was taking everything we had worked
for with me. I told her to stay out of my business.

To get the hell out of my life.

To say she was shocked is the understatement to end all understatements. She
took a step back as if I had slapped her. I went back to my paperwork, my
cheeks burning with shame, not even daring to look into her steely blue eyes,
which now bore a look of hurt that I had never seen before. I didn't say
another word to her. Not even when I heard her get her coat and briefcase and
walk out of the office.

She didn't look back.

xxxxxxxxxx

I heard from a reliable source that the night of our end, Scully went to
Carney's Pub in Georgetown. And she had a drink. She had a drink with a doctor
from Johns Hopkins. Someone she didn't know but felt an instant connection to.
A nice man, a sugeon. Someone who had also been told recently to get out of a
life.

Or so I've been told.

Unbeknownst to her, I ran a check on the guy. I wanted to know who would be
going to sleep with my life and waking up in the morning with my love.

With MY Scully.

xxxxxxxxxx

I wonder, as I lie on my couch at night, when we went wrong. Surely my
outburst that day didn't break us up.

Yeah, Mulder. Just keep telling yourself that.

The stupid thing is that if I wasn't so goddamned stubborn, she would be here
with me right now. We would be making love with our usual passion and
intensity and holding each other until the morning came, until we saw the sun
break the horizon. But, I'm too stubborn.

And she is loving someone else now.

Would it do me any good to try and get her back? She made her decision to get
away from me pretty quick. After the harsh words were spoken, within 2 days of
meeting her doctor friend, I got a memo from Skinner. It told me that Scully
had accepted the head pathologists job at Quantico. He stressed that there was
no chance of a change of heart on Scully's part and told me to get ready for a
new partner. I couldn't do it. It was either work with Scully or work alone.

There hasn't been much conversation around here lately.

xxxxxxxxxx

I heard that three months later, Dr. Andrew Kingston and my Scully moved in
together. The found a great place in Georgetown, minimal commuting distance
for both of them. She is highly successful and respected in her new postion.
Something that she had to fight tooth and nail for in the X-Files division.
Dr. Kingston has just been named Chief of Surgery. They are happy.

She is happy.

Or so I've heard. I haven't been able to call and offer my congratulations.
Fear of her hanging up on me has made me a bigger coward than ever. And so our
riff, started by me, has gone on longer than it ever should have. And the
strange thing is this: I KNOW Scully. I know she would come back to me. All I
would have to do is say I'm sorry.

Sorry for ruining her life. For making her miserable. For almost getting her
killed. For being a jackass. There aren't enough sorrys in the world for me to
tell her. So I guess I should just accept  life as it is and let it go.

Let HER go.

But I can't. I can't let her fade into my memory. I have to swallow my goddamn
pride and tell her how I feel. Tell her that without her, I've been nothing.
That she DID make me a whole person. That I love her more than my life itself.
That I need her.

Need again, Mulder.

xxxxxxxxxx

I can't believe I have done this to myself, to her. I threw everything away,
without hesitation. Without thought. She is right to forget about me. So I
pick up the phone, to call her and tell her congratulations on her life. On
being successful. And then I begin to think about it.

I wonder if she misses me. If she ever stops during her day, as I do too many
times to count, and thinks of us and how we used to be. I wonder if she has
packed up all the things that were mine and boxed them away. Or threw them
out. I wonder if she thinks of me when a bad B-movie comes on and when she
sees a bag of sunflower seeds. I know I think of her.

I think of her when I see the sun rising in the morning and setting in the
evening. When I see a redhead walk by. When I smell the sweet scent of
flowering herbs like the body spray she used. And, late at night, when my
dreams get the best of me, I wonder if she misses me like I miss her, holding
her close to ward off the badness that is troubling me. I could always get to
sleep when she was near. Just having her in my arms was enough. And when she
would flip me a soft smile after our lovemaking, it would settle my world. 

And I was happy. For the first time in a long time.

And now, I know that there is only one thing I can do. I can be a man and put
all of this behind me. I can wish her well and pray for some sense of closure.
I dial the number that is so familiar to me still, even after almost a year of
not using it. 

One ring.

Two rings.

A voice answers. A strong voice that is filled with compassion and
forgiveness. A voice that is so familiar to me.

"Hi, Mulder. It's about time."

xxxxxxxxxx

finis. 

feedback, demands for a sequel, hate mail, etc. should be sent here:
LAinNJ@aol.com
i respond to all so have no fear. :o)