Date: Mon, 11 Sep 2000 02:46:34 BST
Subject: xfc: *NEW* Maybe Tomorrow 1/1
Source: xfc

Title: Maybe Tomorrow
Author: Anne-Marie Farrell
E-mail: a-m.farrell@talk21.com
Date: 10/08/00
Spoilers: 
Category: post-"Requiem", V, A, ScullyPOV
Feedback: 
Archive: 
Rating: PG
Summary: 
Disclaimer: 
Dedication: 
Author's Note: 

"MAYBE TOMORROW"

They stare at me in utter disbelief, whispering as I walk by, my head held
high. Even our closest friends are beginning to wonder how I get up in the
morning. It's unbelievable. No, I'm not a broken woman. Yes, I'd give
anything for you to be back by my s ide, but why would I want to stay in
bed all day crying when every day I wake up knowing today could be the day
you'll return to me. My hope of your safe return grows stronger every day.
If that makes me delusional, that's fine by me. I stopped trying to fit
into the programme years ago. The second I stop believing we'll find you
safe and well, that's when I'll retreat into a dark corner and never come
out again.

My day to day routine is ordinary, mundane. I get up early, as per usual.
Wash, dress, weigh myself (our baby registers as 13lb extra on my body). I
call the Gunmen, who, bless them, have been working through the night
since you went. I record their findi ngs and go to work, checking
newspapers, the internet, anything I can get my hands on. Skinner has been
so supportive, checking on me everyday, amazed at how I'm coping. I tried
to explain to him. I actually sat him down once and said, "Sir, he could
come
 home today. If not today, then maybe tomorrow. What is there to be sad
about?" He just looked at me, his eyes shining and left me to get on with
my work. I can't help but smile as I remember what I told him. If not
today, then maybe tomorrow. 

Now, I don't mean to give the impression that this is easy. It's not.
There was that one time a man fitting your description turned up in the
hospital. Same age, height, missing for the same amount of time. Skinner
and I rushed to the hospital. I burst th rough the doors and ran down the
corridor, Skinner dealing with the annoyed nurse then following me. By the
time he reached the room I was staring vacantly into space, sitting in the
chair next to the bed. I jumped as he came in, jolted back to the room w
here we stood with a complete stranger. "Oh God, Dana," he whispered. "I'm
so sorry." I looked up at him, tears flowing freely down my face. "It's
OK," I assured him. "Maybe tomorrow."

Admittedly, more and more tomorrows are becoming yesterdays. This is one
of the reasons for the whispers in the halls. "How can she have faith
after so long?" I want to turn around and scream at them. I know what day
it is, I cry inside. "I know what day it is," I sob to myself at home.
Admittedly, I sob myself to sleep more and more these days, but that
doesn't mean I'm losing faith.

Tonight is like any other. I get changed and crawl into bed at around 11
o'clock. Yes, I'm crying tonight. I was looking for a pen when I found
some photographs of us at the Lone Gunmen's party last year to celebrate
their best selling issue ever. We were
 both smiling, happy together. I slowly rest my head on the pillow. It's
not long before I hear a knock at the door. I leap up (as quickly as I
can) and am amazed by what I see. I fling open the door to see you
standing there in front of me. Your face lig hts up when you see me, tears
run down your face. I'm crying too as, for the first time in months, I
feel your arms around me, tight. Neither of us says a word at first, until
slowly, you begin to tell me how you ended up on my doorstep. I have some
news for you too, which due to my baggy pyjama top you don't appear to
have noticed. We phone Skinner, the Gunmen, my mom, and all official
people like the hospitals. I replace the phone for the last time and turn
to face you.

You're not there. 

Slowly, reality sets in. It was a beautiful dream, though. I wake up with
tears streaming down my face. I realize, maybe only fully for the first
time, just how empty my life is without you in it, or rather, how empty my
life would be if you weren't in it . My scientific brain tells me I'm
delirious with grief but my heart tells me something else. Despite the
tears I sit up straight in the middle of the night because for the first
time, I truly understand what my heart is trying to tell me.

I smile and wipe a tear from my eye. 

Maybe tomorrow. 

FIN

IMPORTANT - Please do not send feedback to dropdeadred@talk21.com as I
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