From: rummerd@ix.netcom.com (Nikki: Official SYX prez & buttmunch ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: My story (FINALLY) part 1 of 4 Date: 18 Aug 1995 01:24:14 GMT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHH!!!!!! Sorry, it's just that every time I try to post my %&.$. story, it gets deleted. If it's not one thing it's the other... Anyway, because of the help of fellow X-Philes from this list, I got my 'smart quote' and my word-wrapping problems fixed. Of course, it WOULD help if I could send the stupid thing. Oh well, here goes my fourth try. Well, if a miracle happens and this DOES get through, there's some stuff I need to say: 1) I am young. I'm not a proffesional (not even close) And this is only my second try at a long story like this. In other words, puh.LEEEASE be kind when you read my story. I'm sensitive and insecure. ;) 2) The story takes place right after Anasazi (assuming, of course, Mulder is all fine and dandy) If you haven't seen Anasazi . fine. It'll still make sense. It does, however, contain possible spoilers. So, now you've been warned. 3) This is a character story, it's sort of mushy, but it does NOT contain sex or anything of the sort. If you want that kind of thing, read a different story. And...4) I do not read this group often, so if I stole somebody else's title, I'm REALLY sorry. Let's see, anything else? Oh yeah, no copyright infringment intended and all that junk. If you are Chris Carter, or an agent that works at Fox or Ten Thirteen productions, or if you are a lawyer of any said persons, this story does not exist, and I didn't write it. As for the rest of you - enjoy! Well, now that I've narrowed my audience down to about three people, I will post my story. :) (Oh, and don't judge the whole story on the opening sentance, 'cuz it's not very good.) Heeeeere it is!! ......... / ~~+~~ \ ~~+ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +~~ ~~~+ M E M O R I E S L O S T +~~~ ~~+ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +~~ \ ~~+~~ / ...... ---------------------------------------------------- by Nikki "If-this-doesn't-get-through-I'll-kill-my-computer" Rummer ---------------------------------------------------- The wind rustled the leaves above Fox Mulder's head. He looked up and watched them dance on the branches, reflecting the sun that shown through the limbs. Then, as the wind lightened to a breeze, they slowed to a weary wave. He squinted. Maybe if he ignored it, the pain would go away. Maybe if he pretended it never happened..... But he knew that that wasn't the answer. The casket that lay in the grassy courtyard beyond him was as real as anything, and he knew that pretending it wasn't wasn't going to get him anywhere. Or anything. He bowed his head down and looked at his lap. No, the only thing it would bring was a life of denial. Denial, that was the very thing he despised most, it was the one thing he had, for all his life, been trying to uncover. Pretending it was gone would only lead him onto the path that many others had traveled - the path of covering up truths and spectacles discovered along side the trail. He couldn't let himself fall into that cycle. Not him, not ever. He turned his head toward the woman sitting on his right. SHE was the prime example of what would happen to you after a life of pretending. The wrinkled and sorry face reflected years past, years of running away and ignoring her fears. She had alienated herself in the hope she might be able to live in a dream. She had succeeded. And now, she was sitting right next to him. Sitting, staring vacantly at the casket and the world that revolved around her. His very own mother, sitting alone in her own thoughts. She was there, she WAS sitting next to him, but as he gazed into her glassy hazel eyes, he realized that she wasn't. She was alone to herself, alone, and a toy to her own imagination. He forced himself to turn the other way. Toward the woman on his left. And suddenly, a small smile began to form on his face. Her stare was intense, along with everything else about her. She was strong, emotionally and physically. Strong - something he could never consider himself. But somehow her strength and down-to- earthiness seemed to rub off on him whenever she was around. He was almost dependent on her. And just seeing her there made him smile. He continued to gaze into the intense hazel eyes, those eyes, that to most seemed so unemotional and hard. But he knew better. He could see right through them, every time. He could see the sorrow in them now, and he had seen the reluctance when she had asked to come with him to his father's funeral. Scully hadn't really wanted to come, but, then again, who really WANTS to attend a funeral? But that didn't matter to her, she hadn't asked to come for herself, she had for him. He had told her that it would be a waste of her time; something she should just skip and just stay home. But she came regardless, and he was glad. He needed her. He needed her, and she knew it. Scully suddenly turned toward him. At first he thought she had because she had noticed he was staring at her, but when the other people around him began to stand and chatter softly to one- another, he realized that the pastor's speech must have just ended. He had become so deep in his own thoughts that he had let the monotonous voice fade and mingle with the other pleasant sounds of the courtyard. "Mulder?" Scully's voice yanked him out of his thoughts that he had started to become engrossed in once again. "Mulder? Is there something you want to say to me?" He shook his head. He must have been staring at her. "No, no," he looked away, and then clumsily pushed himself off the chair. "No, I was just...thinking." She nodded, then switched her view to the people slowly filing past the casket, stopping every so often to gaze in. Mulder watched, too, fixing his gaze on the sad form of his mother. They had never been that close, he and his mother. They were always somewhat separate, and indifferent. Maybe as a small boy she had been a good fostering parent, but she had always seemed sort of distant. And then his sister had disappeared, and she slipped into her own little world, without him or anyone else. Perhaps that was why dad had left her.... Fox's heart ached as he watched her. She had lost so much, and she lacked the self-certainty to cope with it. And where had he been? Where had he been when she was suffering? Off running around looking for aliens, that's where. She had needed him, and he hadn't been there. He had been too wrapped up in his own matters to notice her. He swore at himself under his breath as he watched her gaze sadly into the coffin. Why hadn't he helped her cope? Why hadn't he tried to pull everyone together? They COULD have been close. They COULD have been a family. But instead they had all separated and searched for a different way to cope with their loss, the one loss that each of them shared, and was actually the only thing that tied them together anymore. Why hadn't he done anything to prevent it? He was suddenly startled out of his brooding when he felt the light tap of a finger on his shoulder. He turned to see Scully's wide eyes staring up at him. She spoke in a low tone. "Do you want to leave?" She kept watching him as he shifted uneasily. She hadn't asked the question because she was itching to leave, she had seen the guilt in his eyes, and had asked the question of concern for him. He finally shook his head, looking down at the green grass beneath him. "No, I'll stay," his voice was soft, but Scully could hear the self-reproach. She stood, staring at him, eyeing him. She knew that if she didn't get him away from there he would begin beating himself up; maybe just to talk, maybe get him to work to get his mind off of everything. But it was up to him, and she kept staring, silently asking him if he was sure. He saw and understood her look, "I'm all right." He looked sorrowfully at her. "I'll walk home." She lingered for a few minutes, gazing at his troubled face. She knew what would happen once he left. But she respected him, and he said he wanted to stay, so she would let him be. She finally turned and headed for her car. A shiver went down Fox's back. He suddenly felt cold. Cold - and alone, as if he were a small boy again. He watched his mother - his very own mother, who had brought him into life - searching the crowd with fearful and helpless eyes. She was searching for someone to support her, someone she could cling on to. And he knew that if he didn't leave, he would be that person. But maybe he SHOULD be that person. She needed him. He began walking toward her. He had always wanted to make amends with his father, or even just sit and talk with him for a while, but he had never gotten that chance. His father was gone, he had died in his very own arms and he would never be able to say to him the things he always wanted to say. But his mother - he still had a chance. He needed to fix things between them before she was gone, too, before his chances of amending or ever speaking to her again ended. Before she was gone, along with his father. But he was in need, too. He stopped short. He could barely support himself, how could he help someone else? He needed to help his mother, yes; but right now HE needed a shoulder to lean on. His eyes shot over to the distant figure of his best friend. Scully slipped her hand into he pocket and dug around in search of her keys. Mulder was so irrational. Well meaning, but irrational. He seemed to have everyone convinced that he blamed all his problems on such forces as the government, or extraterrestrial beings. But in reality, she saw that when he wanted someone to blame, the finger was usually pointed at himself. He needed someone to be there to help him cope with the outside world, to give him a boost every so often. She was that person, and she knew it. She was there for him, and, in turn, he was there for her. It wasn't one-up one down, it was a relationship; a relationship built on trust that had taken a few years to reach the point at which it was now. It was beyond love. But, even so, there were still THOSE times. Those times that he retracted back into himself and would let her, or anyone else help. Those times he just blamed himself. Her fingers finally came in contact with the small ring of keys she'd been looking for. She pulled them out and fumbled with them for a few moments as she thought about her partner. Then about what she'd do when she got home. A hot bath would be nice.... She almost jumped as an arm stretched out in front of her, blocking her key from the lock, then she cursed as her keys fell onto the blacktop and slid underneath the car. She stood a moment, then bent down as Mulder chuckled softly. "Don't you ever do that again, Mulder," she got on her hands and knees and peered under the car, stretching her arm out and passing her hand over the pavement. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you," she felt her hand hit cold metal, then smiled as she pulled her keys out. Mulder watched her push herself back to her feet, then brush herself off, smiling to himself. She cocked her head up, first to scowl at him, then she let her smile peek through. "How does lunch sound?" She looked down and shook her head in amusement. "All right, Mulder. Hop in." He smiled boyishly, then half walked, half skipped to the other side of the car. She slid the key into the lock. 'What would I ever do without you?' She opened the door, then slid inside. "Are you going to drink that coffee or just stir it with your finger for an hour?" He looked, then lifted his finger out of the hot liquid and watched as the droplets slowly trickled back into the cup. "You know, Mulder, you haven't said a word since you suggested going to lunch." He reached across the table and picked up a container of cream, "Yes I have." The cream spilled into the cup. Scully raised an eyebrow. "You told me to tell the waitress you wanted a cup of coffee." "Doesn't that count?" She laughed. "No, Mulder, that's not usually thought of as a social gesture." "I'll work on it." He stared at her, and she gazed back at him, his smile gradually fading. A silence fell between them, they just stared, both at a loss for something to say. Then Scully bent her head down and began fiddling with her napkin. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Mulder, but I got the feeling that you came with me to escape." He shrugged, then picked up his coffee to take a sip for the first time, "Why do you say that?" He took a sip, scowled, then dumped another container of half and half into it. "Well, you sure didn't come here for the coffee." His eyes drifted down to the ceramic cup in front of him, inspecting the dark face that stared back up at him. Did he really look that bad? "OK, Scully, I admit it. I decided that sticking around my father's decaying corpse wasn't the most enjoyable of experiences." She began to gather her things, avoiding her partners eyes, "I don't think it was your father you were trying to get away from." She could read him like a book.... He kept looking at his reflection, then a tear hit the smooth surface and caused his mirrored image to ripple outwards. He quickly looked away, hoping Scully hadn't seen. "Mulder..." he felt her hand fall lightly on his shoulder. Damn, she had. Her hand gradually slipped down his arm to rest on the table. She leaned closer to him. "Why didn't you come when I first offered to take you?" When he shrugged, she pulled back. He had changed his mind, he had seen his mother and had run away. She knew it. She glanced up at the clock, then placed a couple of dollars on the table. "Look, Mulder. I've got a meeting with Skinner in a few minutes. I've got to go. Do you want me to...." "No." He cut her off, shaking his head; then turned it to gaze out the window, at the bar across the street. "No..." his voice faded. "Just don't try to drink your problems away, all right?" She smiled, then picked her hand up and ruffled his hair. "Take care of yourself." She passed him, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. He looked back at his reflection in the coffee. Why did she have to predict him so well? He dipped his finger back in the now luke-warm liquid and began stirring. OK, so maybe he'd stay away from the booze that evening. But a beer sounded so good... 'Just keep away from the bar,' he thought to himself, glumly looking out the window. The sun was lowering. This was going to be a long night. =========================================================================== From: rummerd@ix.netcom.com (Nikki: Official SYX prez & buttmunch ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: My story (FINALLY) part 2 of 4 Date: 18 Aug 1995 01:26:55 GMT MEMORIES LOST part 2 "Dang it." Mulder stood in the center of his office and glanced around at the mess; the papers strewn all over the place, the wads around the garbage can, the piles of carelessly stacked folders and files. It was no wonder people frequently suggest that he organize it. Even Scully had voiced her disapproval every so often, but he had always insisted that that's how he had liked it - messy. And that HE could always find things that he was looking for. It was true, too. Well, usually. He yanked open a drawer and began digging through its contents. Sunflower seeds. He had to find some sunflower seeds. He knew that he had a bag stashed around there SOMEWHERE, but finding it, well, that was another story. He kicked the drawer closed, then jerked open the one above it. He needed those seeds. They calmed him down. They always did. He was almost as addicted to those things as smokers were to cigarettes. And right now he needed some. He slammed the drawer closed and went onto the next. Where were they? He had to get out of there, he'd been searching for them for almost fifteen minutes. Of course, he could have just picked some up at the store, but he needed them now. That's why he was angry. He couldn't find his seeds. At least, that's what he told himself. But that was probably the smallest of his problems right now. He kept digging, then stopped suddenly when his attention was grabbed by the steady beat of heels in the corridor. Those footsteps, he had heard them countless times before, and he could pick them out from any. It was almost calming to hear them again. But even as they neared, he went back to digging around in the open drawer. Scully passed through the doorway then stopped to watch Mulder rummaging through his desk. "What do you want, Scully?" he didn't look up, just continued to dig through drawers in search of some sunflower seeds. She stood and stared at him, silently, hoping that he would at least give acknowledgment of her existence by looking up at her. He shoved the drawer closed and moved to his desktop. "What, Scully?" She sighed, then walked over and tossed a minilla folder on top of his hands. He finally stopped digging long enough to look at her. She knew that she had his attention then, so, after a slight pause, she stepped toward the desk and spoke the first word she had said to him all day. "Skinner." Mulder licked his lips, staring intently at her, then tossed the folder aside and began looking under various papers and files strewn across his desk. "I don't have time for that crap, Scully." Scully stood back and watched, her arms folded at her chest as he yanked open yet another drawer. Then she noticed something on the floor and bent down to pick it up. "There they are," it was Mulder who spoke, and Scully lifted her head just in time to see him pull a half empty bag of sunflower seeds out of the drawer with a grin spread across his face. He tossed a single seed in his mouth, then chucked the rest into his coat pocket and began to pull it on. "Where are you going?" "My mother's house," he slid his arm through the coat sleeve, then shoved his hands into his pockets to find his keys. Failing, he began opening and closing drawers, and looking under papers again. "Mulder, you need to start working again. You've been..." "She needs me, Scully." He angrily shoved closed the drawer he was looking through and straitened, combing a his hand through his sweaty hair. "Damn it, where are they?" He searched his pockets again. Scully stood by the doorway, staring at him, "Mulder." "What?" He dropped to the ground and began probing the floor. Scully didn't move. "Mulder." She was probably less forgiving of his attitude than she usually would have been. She was cross, the morning had started off horribly, with her car stalling in the middle of the road, then she had spilled coffee all over her skirt, and the meeting with Skinner the night before sure hadn't helped. Just as well Mulder wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality. He poked his head under the desk and felt the floor. Nothing. He crawled underneath. "For Godsakes, Mulder, look at me!" His head popped up from behind the desk, his brow furrowed. Then he slowly stood up and brushed himself off when he saw his keys dangling from her hand. "Mulder..." she sighed, trying to find the right words. "Mulder, just keep in mind, you're not all-together in the most stable of conditions either." He walked up to her and snatched the keys from her hand without even giving her a second look. "Thank you, Doctor Scully." He brushed passed her. "I'll send you the check in the mail." Scully still didn't move. She just stood and watched him pass through the threshold and into the hallway, then listened to his fading footsteps. 'There he goes again.' She sighed. Why did he always do this sort of thing? Why did he always try to fix things himself? Best friend or not, he could still do some pretty damn stupid things. In fact, he did stupid things quite often. And said stupid things, things that hurt. But whenever he said something awful to her, she was able to keep her composure. She could keep her emotions in check, even when he couldn't. She didn't really know why she didn't get upset, maybe it was because she knew he never really meant the things he said. Or perhaps it was because she knew that that was his way of dealing with his problems - to yell at whoever was the most convenient. It was a kind of defense mechanism, she supposed. Who knew? But in the end, he would always end up needing her. When he yelled at her, she knew it was NOT the time to abandon him, no matter how much his statements hurt. Although an occasional apology would have been nice. She took a deep breath and exhaled, then stepped up to the disorganized mass of papers and files that Mulder referred to as his desk and picked up the folder. He was gone, and she was going to have to handle the case herself. She knew that. And she knew it was going to be a very long week... The headlights flickered, then went out as the engine slowly slid from life. Mulder pulled the key out of the ignition and stared out at the house in front of him. It was small - and dark. It had an almost secluded feel. Alone and abandoned among the weeds and wild bushes that had begun to take over the front yard. What was he getting himself into? He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, then began up the path. It wasn't in shambles, it just lacked that welcoming feel. Only one small window to the right was lit, and it shone out onto the overgrown grass with an eerie glow. What if Scully was right? He stopped. She often was. Why would this be an acceptation? What if he DID need to get back to work.... But he was here. He was on porch of his mother's house, and there was no turning back. Besides, he KNEW he was doing the right thing. Wasn't he? The door opened, even though he had barely tapped on it. It slowly swung outward to reveal a pale wrinkled face that stared up at him, a simple face with a smile so innocent it could bring warmth to even the coldest heart. She threw herself at him, collapsing into his arms, and embraced him, using every bit of strength that was left in her. "Oh, Fox," Her voice was timid, "Fox, you came." He listened silently. Any reluctance he had held inside now vanished. There was a sudden tug at his wrist and he felt himself being pulled inside, his mother's hand wrapped tightly around his arm. She pulled him through the threshold, then closed the door behind him. He was trapped. He couldn't leave, even if he wanted to. And he couldn't seem to decide what he wanted to do, so he just stood, and stared. "I've been waiting," her voice had turned from that of relief to that of pleasure, she almost had a bounce to her step as she half- dragged her son down the hallway. "I made some tea. And I've got some cookies," she pulled him into a sparsely decorated living room, grinning broadly. "Here, I'll be back in a moment." He felt himself being pushed toward a couch, then the hand fell from his back. He turned and watched his mother as she headed toward the kitchen. "Make yourself at home." Her voice faded along with her footsteps until all he could hear of her was the pleasant sounds of her bustling about in the kitchen. He smiled to himself. She was humming, and he recognized the song. It was one she had sung to him as a small boy. He glanced around at the bare walls that surrounded him. There weren't any pictures. He had remembered so many from his childhood. Ones of him, his father, his sister.... His eyes caught sight of the mantel, on top was a picture. But it was overturned. 'Memories she wants to hide,' he walked around the couch and picked up the frail wooden frame. His father's face stared back up at him. "Dad," he bit his lip when he realized he had said his thoughts out loud, then glanced back toward the kitchen, hoping his mother wasn't coming. The opposite side of the room was empty. He turned his attention back to the picture that rested in his hands. His father, he was gone. This was all that was left of him - memories. He began tracing the features with his finger. What had he done wrong? "Fox?" he shot his head around, practically dropping the picture as he did. His mother was walking toward him, a tray balanced in her hands. "Why don't you sit down?" He sighed in relief as she circled the coffee table and sat down on the couch, facing the opposite wall. She hadn't seen what he was looking at. He gently placed the photo back on the mantel and listened to his mother as she babbled incoherently. "I'm so glad you came," she picked up one of the cups and poured some tea. "It gets kind of lonely around here, you know. Night after night, I really don't have that much to do." Fox rounded the couch and watched her as she carefully poured a second cup. "Sure, I have company every once in a while," she set down the kettle. "I've got the TV," her hands, now unoccupied, moved to the cookies and began making little patterns out of them. "And every so often your father comes over. And we talk...." her voice trailed off and her hands suddenly stopped moving. She looked down at them. They were old and frail, fragile, like her. Fragile, and withered, and weak - and dying. They began to shake. "He's gone," she looked up at her son for the first time, "isn't he?" She bit her lip as his head bowed in a slow nod. "He's gone," tears filled her eyes and her whole body began to shake. She was finally facing reality. It was the first time she had cried in years. "Fox. He's gone. And he's not coming back." She felt his hand fall lightly on her shoulder, then the warm security of his embrace. How could he be gone? Her daughter was gone, but she could come back. But now her former husband was gone. And she knew he was gone for good. Did this mean her daughter was gone forever, too? Had she just been fooling herself all these years? She placed her head on her son's shoulder and sobbed. She sobbed for everything she had lost, everything she had not yet cried for - the disappearance of her daughter, the splitting up of her family, and now, the loss of her ex-husband. Fox didn't hush her. He knew that she needed to cry. She needed to let out those feelings she had kept bottled up inside her, bottled up and ignored. She was FINALLY facing the truth. It had taken this long. Fox rubbed her back in slow circles. He felt guilty, yet he didn't know why. He just did. He knew she needed to cry, but he just wanted her to stop. And she gradually did, until she was breathing regularly enough to speak. "You're all I have left, Fox." His heart wrenched, and he blinked his eyes to prevent tears from falling. He WAS all she had left. And she was latching onto him. "I love you." His muscles tensed, and he stopped rubbing. That phrase, those few words that had just escaped her mouth was something his ears had been denied of almost all his life. I love you, it was something he had never expected to hear. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He was afraid that if he spoke he would start crying. Why had she waited so long to say that to him, and why hadn't he said it to her? "I love you too, mom," his words were barely above a whisper. He wanted to cry, but he realized she had stopped. Maybe if he cried, she would start, too. He didn't want that. He bit his quivering lip, hoping that would help. "Fox?" she spoke in an inquisitive sort of way, as if she were in deep thought. She finally pushed him away and gazed into his eyes. "Won't you stay with me?" he didn't say anything, but he knew he would have to. And he knew it would have to be yes. "You can stay here, maybe for a couple of days. You could help me out. I've got the guest room all made up." She lifted one of his hands and caressed it. "We haven't really talked in so long," she paused, then leaned closer to him, placing his hand on his knee, "I need you, Fox." Scully made her way wearily down the hall. Another meeting with Skinner - just what she needed. She'd been working so hard to figure out this stupid missing person case he had given her, and now he was interrupting her. She hadn't even wanted the case in the first place. If he would just let her finish it and get it out of her way.... She was stressed. The whole week had been stressing, almost too stressing. Especially since Mulder wasn't there to share the work load. She missed him, especially since he had called her. Sometimes she just wished she could forget about him, and concentrate on her own work. But he was always there, always resting at the back of her mind. And the phone call had brought him to the center of her attention. He had sounded stressed, too - perhaps even more stressed than she was. He had wanted her to come, maybe he hadn't voiced that, but she could sense it. Of course, she couldn't have gone to him, Skinner wanted to talk to her. She couldn't refuse Skinner, no matter how much she despised him at times. She'd done that once and she had no desire to do it again. Scully stopped and turned to her right. She had been to Skinner's office so many times that she could practically go there subconsciously. And to her great disappointment, she was there before she knew it. She paused at the door and took a deep breath. He was going to ask her questions, most likely ones that had no relevance to what she was doing. But she'd have to answer them, she always did, no matter how stupid or inane. She had to calm down right now, before she confronted the man. She exhaled, then pushed open the door. Assistant Director Skinner stood at the far end, behind his desk, with his arms folded at his chest. He turned when she entered, and watched as she quickly glanced at the armchair to her right, then relaxed a little when she saw it was empty. "Agent Scully." He spoke in a monotone. That, and his expressionless face always made Scully a little edgy. She nodded, smiling insincerely, and then took his gestured invitation to take a seat. He turned back and gazed out the window before speaking again. "Where is Agent Mulder?" It was more of a demand than a question; one that Scully had expected. "His mother's house. I'm handling the case, sir." He turned and looked at her, intensely staring into her eyes. A silence settled about the room, one Scully took advantage of by straightening out her wrinkled skirt. "He's been gone for five days." His voice caused her to jerk her head up, and when she did, she saw that his hands were resting on the desk before him; and in front of Scully. Scully's mind raced, not really attentive of the man looking down at her, she was too engrossed thinking about her conversation with Mulder, about the case that was partially being handled by the green Agent Bowers. She had so much to get done. So much to do, so many people to help.... She caught sight of the glare, those hard eyes that stared down at her. She straitened when she realized what he was accusing. He shifted slightly, then spoke, bluntly getting to the point, "What is Agent Mulder hiding, Agent Scully?" She glared back. How could he be so blind? Did he think everything was a huge conspiracy against him? "Agent Mulder is hiding nothing, sir. He is at his mother's, helping her cope with her loss. I can call him, if that's what you want...." she let her voice trail off, watching the man push away from the desk and pace towards his chair. "Fine, Agent Scully," he leaned, placing his hands back on the desk and staring down at her in a threatening manner. Scully sat without moving as he leaned closer, placing himself only inches from her face, "What are YOU hiding?" Scully stared up at him, pressing her lips together. Now she was REALLY pissed. "No, sir," she kept her voice soft, forcing him to stay in the awkward position he had placed himself into. "I think the question is, what are YOU hiding?" Skinner pulled back, folding his arms at his chest. It was his silent way of asking her, or rather telling her, to explain herself. She took no time to comply. "Sometimes I wonder, sir, just who do you answer to?" she continued to glare at him. It was a question she had been asking in her mind every since the day she met him. But she never thought she would actually ask him. Of course, she hadn't thought she would befriend the man she had been sent to keep on line in a relationship that she would discover was beyond love, either. And that she would end up trusting him like no other. Because of him, she had begun to question her trust in authority, and in the man that was staring down at her at the very moment. Because of him, she was voicing that distrust. "At times, you act like you support us, like our work is important to you, like WE'RE important to you. But then you come and pull something like this. Whoever it is that's above you somehow reels you in; they threaten you and you back right down. They control you. And they want you to control us." She shifted, and heaved a heavy sigh, almost with a shrug. "I don't know, maybe you do care about us, maybe you really believe that what we're doing is right, that the truth really should be uncovered, but I will never know. And it's all because you let those all-powerful men control you." She finally stood, pushing the chair backward, and pacing to the other side of the room. She was angry, and she realized that she was letting her emotions get the best of her. She had to calm down. But she couldn't. And she was beginning to not even care. "You know, that's the reason why I can put full trust in Mulder and not in you. In many ways he reminds me of yourself; he's a dark man with a dark past. And he has to deal with the same people you do. But unlike you, when they shoot at his feet, he doesn't dance. Yes, with all that shooting, he sometimes gets hit, and he can even take that pain and fear out on the ones he trusts and loves, but no matter what; no matter what happens to him, he always sticks to his beliefs. He knows that to him, what he's doing is right. And, damn it, that's what I should be doing." Her voice had risen. She was almost yelling at him now, but she didn't care. Right now all she could think about was the hell she and Mulder had been through. She couldn't stand just sitting and listening any longer. As she paced across the room to her bag, she forgot about all those thoughts that had held her back in the years past. It was time for some change. And it was time for her to help Mulder. She dug through the bag until her fingers came upon the mass of papers and reports she had been working on. She lifted them out and threw it on his desk, causing a few of his papers to fly into the air. "Get somebody else to handle your dirty work. I've got a friend who needs me." Her eyes didn't even meet Skinner's. She was filled with fury, and she didn't want to hear another word from him. She lifted her bag and walked toward the door, stopping only when she heard the soft, controlled voice of the man across the room. "Is that all, Agent Scully?" Her shoulders dropped. She had no more to say to him, but even so, as she lifted her arm and slowly turned the door knob, her reply came. "Yes, sir," the door swung open and she calmly stepped outside. "Thank you for your time." All she heard was the sound of the door slamming shut of her own accord. She didn't care what he did, now she just had to go home. It was late. She would meet Mulder the next morning. And she wouldn't even feel guilty about it. =========================================================================== From: rummerd@ix.netcom.com (Nikki: Official SYX prez & buttmunch ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: My story (FINALLY) part 3 of 4 Date: 18 Aug 1995 01:29:15 GMT MEMORIES LOST part 3 Fox jerked his head off the pillow and looked around in the darkness. "Oh, my God," was all he could mutter as he wiped the sweat from his face, then lifted the covers off his body. She was crying again. He stumbled out of bed and probed the air for the lamp. Every single night, for the past five nights his mother had woken him up crying. And he always went to comfort her. Why did she always have to start at night? Why not during the day? What he didn't realize was that she DID cry during the day, he was just so busy he didn't even notice. He was so busy that he COULDN'T take the time to comfort her, he was incapable of it, so she depended upon him during the night. The night, the cool silence was something he dreaded all of his life, something he thought he could do without. And now he yearned for it. Even if it were just four or five hours of it, just enough to get some sleep without being interrupted. His hand finally came in contact with the switch on the small table lamp that rested on the night stand. He needed something to wake him up, perhaps a cup of coffee or just a good old slap in the face. But there wasn't anyone there to give it to him. HE was the provider, not the recipient. And that was probably the main reason he did need a slap in the face. He staggered over to the dresser and gazed into the mirror. He looked awful. His hair was out of place, his clothes were crumpled, and there was the beginning of a beard peeping through on his chin. Of course, what did he expect, the way he'd been living the past five days. His mom had asked him to stay with her; 'to talk' she had said to him, 'to catch up on what we've missed from being apart.' He had been more than willing to comply. But then, as the days passed, she required more than just a little chat and some comfort. First it was a little favor of picking up something at the store, then it was a little request of mowing the lawn. Then doing the dishes. Then cleaning the entire house. Then cooking the meals. He found himself doing everything for her, while she just laid in bed and sulked. And he hadn't even meant to. It had just happened. Besides, how could he refuse? His mother needed him. She did, at least that's what she was constantly telling him. But there were still those times when he just wished she could find another person to help her cope. He slumped down into a chair in the corner of the room. Maybe he should call Scully. He checked the clock - 11:21. Not too late, she wouldn't mind a little call. So what if he woke her up? He pushed himself out of the chair, then stopped when he remembered that he had called her earlier that day. He turned away from the door and headed toward the dresser once more. 'I'm becoming delirious,' he almost smiled as he slipped a shirt on. 'If Scully were here, she'd whip me into shape....' He began to pull some pants on, thinking the whole while, trying to remember his previous conversation with her. She had seemed so rushed. He had called her, without even really knowing why. He just wanted to talk. Unfortunately, Scully hadn't been in a talking mood. So he said that he had called her because he needed her to feed his fish. He slapped his forehead as he thought back to what he'd said. What kind of idiotic request was that? Fortunately, Scully hadn't really paid attention. She was too caught up in her own affairs. At least she seemed to be, but then she stopped. She had stopped and asked him where he was. His mothers, of course. "Mulder, you need to come to work." "No I don't. My mother needs me." She had sighed. She was worried about him, he knew it. She was concerned about his health, about his well being, but he could never face that. Whenever she expressed her concern for him, he always pretended to ignore it, like he didn't even see it. Why? He'd called her, needing to talk, but then he instantly became defensive, insisting that he was doing the right thing, that Scully was wrong. He was unsure of himself. And in reality, it was him he was trying to convince, not Scully. It was his silent plea for help. He sighed and shook his head. That sure was a dumb strategy, the more he thought about it. Thinking back, he could remember her exact words. They had struck him, they had began to bring him back into reality... "Mulder, look at it this way: if you have a very large ship, with a lot of holes in it, it will sink right? Well, let's say there's a tiny tugboat that's just trying to keep it afloat, and it has a hole in it, too. Obviously the big boat is going to sink. And what happens to smaller things around a large boat when it sinks? They sink, too. Mulder, you are that small tugboat. You're mother is sinking, and she's bringing you down with her. "She needs more than just you to keep her afloat." He'd just sat there, silent. He knew she was right, but he wanted to believe in himself. He just couldn't face what he really needed to do - to leave the house, and to take his mother to a psychologist. But he couldn't. And he couldn't say anything to Scully, either. After a long silence she'd just told him that she was late for a meeting with Skinner. Then she had hung up. 'Oh great,' he'd thought, 'Just what she needs, Skinner on her back and asking her questions.' He slipped his pants the rest of the way on, then leaned up against the dresser, listening to his mother's wailing. Here he was, about to go and calm her when he knew that he should be at work with his friend. He reluctantly pushed open the door and headed down the dark hallway. The car slowly lurched to life as Scully turned the key in the ignition. Her hand was still shaking, and she silently sat and let the engine run for a few moments. She couldn't believe what she had just done. She had yelled at Skinner, and for no better reason than being angry at him. That outburst could have cost her her job. It could have cost Mulder's job, too. She had always been able to keep calm, but this once she had just let herself go, without caring about the consequences. And for what? For Mulder. Ultimately, it boiled down to her anger at someone falsely accusing Mulder. It was stupid, and it was uncalled-for. But boy had it felt good. Mulder finally stopped and fell toward the wall. He leaned over and wiped his face again. He was going to have to tell her that he was leaving. He HAD to. He couldn't stand it any longer. His mom needed more than he could offer, Scully was right. Now he had to tell her that he was going. But would she listen? And how would she react? It was going to be hard, that's all he knew. He continued to think about it as he pushed open his mother's door and stepped inside. She was sitting on the bed, crying; pitifully rubbing her eyes. He walked over and hugged her. "It's all right, Mom. I'm here," his voice was soft, and comforting. She almost instantly stopped crying, then leaned up to him and clinged onto his arms. "Thank you, Fox." Her voice had a joyous tinge to it, and Fox could hear it. She hadn't been upset, she had just wanted a hug. The thought sickened him. "Mom?..." he had to tell her. It was now or never. If he didn't, he probably would be roped in by her sad eyes, and forced to forget everything except her and her problems. Forced to get up every night just because she wanted a hug. Forced to take care of her. Forced to be her slave. "Yes?" "Mom..." his voice trailed again. He had to find the right words. But he was going to say it, how should he put it? "Mom, I'm leaving tomorrow." It was blunt, and he almost wished he hadn't said it. She sure didn't make it any easier when she pushed him off of her and stared in disbelief into his apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry, mom. I have to leave....I just can't stay any longer." She didn't say anything, but he could tell that she was upset from the way she fell from his arms onto the bed. She was upset, but at least she wasn't crying. "Mom, it's okay. I'll still come to visit." "You never did before." Her words were a blow to his heart. Either she was laying a guilt trip on him, or she was just totally unaware of anything but herself. In any case, it hurt him. But he couldn't show her he was upset, not now... "Would you like some tea? I'll go get some, all right? I'll be right back." She hadn't nodded, but he left the room anyway. He needed to think - alone. And his steady footsteps toward the door told him he couldn't turn back. No matter how sad and pathetic she looked, he was going to leave the room, and ultimately, leave the house. He HAD to. He also had to convince himself he was doing the right thing. He reached the kitchen and put some water in the kettle. He'd bring her the tea, they would talk, then he would pack his bags and leave the next morning. That was that. And he wasn't going to let her change his mind. Scully turned over causing the covers to fluff up in a large bubble over her. She watched as they slowly drifted back down around her body. She wasn't surprised that she couldn't sleep, her mind was too occupied. She was still a bit shocked from her sudden outburst, plus she kept thinking about Mulder. Thinking, and wondering if he was dreaming. She glanced over to the clock and was surprised to see that it was past eleven o'clock. Wasn't it just ten the last time she had looked? She HAD fallen asleep, for about an hour. She had dreamed, too. She remembered the dream. It resurfaced in her mind like a capsized boat. A boat she had overturned on purpose. It was a dark dream, of thoughts best left forgotten. But she couldn't forget. She was in a house. A dark house. A sad house. There was Mulder, there was his mother. Only one was laying on the floor. And the other stood. One was dead. And the other cried. She sat up and breathed in heavily, then noticed that she was sweating. Just thinking about it made her nervous. It was a dream. Only a dream. But it disturbed her. The door creaked slightly as she flung it open, she slipped on her trench coat over the articles of clothing she had just thrown on. She half ran down the hallway, not even bothering to lock the closing door. Something was wrong, she could just sense it. The car seemed to take longer than usual to start. The trip down the stairs and out into the parking lot had seemed unusually long, too. She NEEDED to get to Mulder. She murmured her frustrations under her breath, then heaved a sigh as the engine sparked to life. Mulder's mother's house was over an hour's drive. That was, if she went according to the speed limit. She swallowed, then stepped on the gas. "Where's that stupid tea?" a shaking hand probed the cupboard until it fell upon a small tin. Mulder smiled. The tin clanged softly as he set it on the counter and spooned out a couple of spoonfuls of dried tea leaves. The sweet smell of the leaves combining with the boiling water rose up in aromatic clouds around him. It was a comfort he had come accustomed to, one that he had come to rely on when he was upset. "Mom, I'm coming, the tea's almost ready." He made sure the shout could be heard throughout the house. But no reply came, only the soft whistling of the remaining water in the kettle. He picked it off the burner, then grabbed two cups out of the cupboard. They were his mother's favorite. He smiled down at them, picking up the tea pot and stepping out of the kitchen. Tea was something his mother could never resist. Maybe it would get her comfortable enough to talk with him. If he could just convince her that he wasn't abandoning her, but he couldn't admit that he wanted to escape, either. He would have to choose the right words. He would have to convince her that it was a good thing for her, too. "Here, I think it might need to settle some..." his voice dropped, and despite the sound of crashing tea cups and the pot on the ground, Mulder could still hear his mother's trembling voice. "Fox....I must go too." His lips quivered, separating, then pressing together. A talk, he had thought she needed a talk to convince her that he was leaving for her own good. But how could he talk to her now? Like this? How could he convince her now? And how could he convince himself he hadn't pushed her over the edge. He opened his mouth once more and forced out his choked words, the only words he could think, "Mom...please...don't...." She didn't seem to hear him. Perhaps it was because her mind was too intense on herself. Perhaps she had been blocking out feelings so long that she could block out everything that went on around her, too. Perhaps it was because the cold nozzle of the gun pressed against her soft gray hair made her forget about everything else. Perhaps it was because she was already dying - her will to live was dying. She had been dying for twenty years. She just couldn't keep herself alive any longer. "Please....mom...don't do this...." "I have to....." He swallowed, at least she had heard him. "No you don't." She shook her head, and finally lowered it enough for him to see her face. The tears fell from her eyes and alighted on the floor, creating two salty rivers down her cheeks. "You just don't understand, do you? Nobody understands." Fox watched helplessly, listening to her. She didn't understand, either. That taking her life would take away from others'. "I am a mother. I am a wife. And I am a caretaker. There were three pieces to my heart, Fox. Each one of you. One was torn away twenty years ago, when your sister was taken. I have managed to stay alive all these years by ignoring the pain. It is a large pain, Fox. One that took everything I could to pretend it wasn't there. Then your father died. He died no more than two months ago, and he too took a chunk of me with him. My heart no longer has three pieces. It has one. Only one. You. It has been beating for the length of my life, it has kept me alive, it has allowed me to eat, it has allowed me to sleep. It has allowed me to get up in the morning. It can't do that any longer." She looked up toward the ceiling once more, away from her quivering son that stood in the doorway. "It just can't, I am too weak, I am too old." She paused for a moment, sniffing in a few tears. It was his moment. It was his chance to approach her, while she was looking up, while she was thinking. But his feet wouldn't budge. It was as if they had planted themselves to the carpet and had no intention of letting go. He could do nothing but stand there, and stare. Stare and hope she wouldn't pull that trigger. When her eyes finally fell to meet his, she spoke again, the whole while her hand tensing. His chance was gone, he knew it. Now all he could do was listen to her speak. "I have ignored the pain too long." "Mom....please...." And beg her to reconsider. "It has engulfed me." A tear joined hers on the floor. "I love you..." "I can't fight it any longer....." "No!" "I must join it." Mulder never believed in time. Time was unreliable. Time was devastating. It froze when you wanted it to move, and it passed when you wanted it to stay. And just when you thought you had it caught in your hand, it seeped effortlessly from your grasp. It vanished before you even realized that it was slipping away. He had told Scully that you could lose time, that aliens could make it disappear. She could never believe, even with him constantly trying to convince her. But at this moment, Mulder realized that he never knew what time was. It wasn't real. It was something that was there and then is gone. It was something that many people took for granted. Something that he himself had taken for granted. At that moment time froze. It was stopping long enough for him to realize that he had let it go by too fast. Twenty years had gone by much too fast. And now, as it continued to pass, he wished he could have it all back. Time was against him. It was always against him. =========================================================================== From: rummerd@ix.netcom.com (Nikki: Official SYX prez & buttmunch ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: My story (FINALLY) part 4 of 4 Date: 18 Aug 1995 01:32:33 GMT MEMORIES LOST part 4 Scully's car halted when she caught sight of Mulder's parked car. Despite the late hour, she was attentive and awake. Which was more she could say for the desolate house that lay to the right of her. It seemed dead. She pulled the key from the ignition and listened to the car slide from life, then a shot pierced the night. One that made every muscle in her tense. It brought her to life, and it most likely brought someone else to death. The car door swung open and she strained her ears to listen for a sound, a reassuring voice, but none came. All there was was the beating of her feet on the paved walkway. And there was silence. And there was fear. It was her fear. The fear of the worse. Who had fired the gun? And who, if anyone, was hit? Her dream. She remembered her dream. She was one who could usually dismiss such an incident as a coincidence. But not this time. It was just too ironic. In her mind, she could see someone laying on the floor, but she couldn't see the face. It was too dark, the dream was too dark. And her flying footsteps couldn't seem to get her to the door fast enough to find out who it was. Every second seemed like one against her. She suddenly came to her destination, shoving it open with her side, and falling inside. Her gun was drawn, more out of a force of habit then out of thought of self-preservation. But what she saw inside caused her to drop it slowly to her side. There stood Mulder. He was alive, and he wasn't bleeding. But all concern for his physical health disappeared when she saw his pained face. When she had entered, he had swung around to face her, and now all he could do was stare. He stared through eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing come out. His mouth just gaped open, letting his lips quiver. He was standing next to the open doorway of a bedroom, one she couldn't see inside of. Time froze. Mulder froze. Everything froze. It was as if the entire world had froze, like it had stopped turning all together, lying silent and still, and overcome by the devastation that emitted from the dark soul that stood in front of her. Scully just stood and watched him, at a loss for something to say or do. The entire world was at a loss. His arm finally rose, not toward her, toward the bedroom doorway. It pointed inside. Scully didn't have to look in to figure out what happened. Her own instincts and Mulder's glazed over eyes told her. The body sprawled on the bedroom floor with a bullet wound in her head and the gun still in her hand just justified her expectations. Mulder still didn't move, he looked stunned, and vacant, almost as if he was in a whole other world. One that was still revolving, one that had no problems. The looked scared her. "Mulder? Mulder, are you going to be all right?" He finally focused his eyes on her, and willed himself to speak in a voice that was soft and raspy. "She killed herself, Scully. She just....killed herself." "I know," she tried to keep calm, trying not to get upset. That would only feed to his grief. She had to try to appear unaffected - the last thing she wanted him to do was totally collapse. She had to get him home, away from the deathly silent house. She glanced around, out the doorway and the windows. There weren't any houses nearby; no one to hear the shot; no one to call the police. It was just them. And, of course, his dead mother. "I didn't do it, Scully. She did. I couldn't stop her. I wanted to. She did it anyway. She's dead. Why couldn't I do anything?" He was babbling; something that worried Scully. She would take him home, and call the police from there. But his car...how would he be able to drive in the state he was in? She shook her head. He was going to have to, either that or they'd have to stay in the house and answer the questions of the police that would swamp the place. She knew he couldn't handle questions. Not now, not like this. "Mulder...." "I didn't do it, I didn't..." "Mulder, I know." She breathed deeply, then exhaled. He was confused. Confused and scared. "Mulder, listen to me. We're going to leave. You're going to drive home, I'll be right behind you. We can talk at your apartment." He shook his head, "I can't..." "You've got to." She grabbed his arm to emphasize herself. Now wasn't the time for him to go ballistic on her. He had to listen, and he had to trust her. Something inside him must have finally clicked, because his head bobbed slowly up and down in a nod. "Now, you get in your car and I'll gather your things. Do you think you can do that?" He nodded again, and stepped toward the door. "I'll be right out, all right?" She half shouted the words over her shoulder as she headed down the hall in search of his room. It wasn't hard to find - it was the only one with an open door. She almost smiled as she opened the drawers and pulled out his things. It was clean. His office was a mess, his apartment was a mess, but when he went to his mother's, he kept the room tidy. He had really wanted to impress his mother. He really had cared. She quickly stuffed the articles into his bag and headed out, grabbing his keys off the dresser as she passed by. She prayed he could make home. When she stepped out into the cool night air she caught sight of Mulder. He was leaning against his car, his arms folded on top, his head buried beneath them. He was shaking. As she approached him, he turned, looking into her eyes. "I can't go, Scully, I just can't." "You can." She opened the door and handed him his keys, tossing his bag into the back seat. "You will." She closed the door for him and walked toward her car. He still had that glazed look in his eye, and she still didn't think he was all there. She wasn't sure if he could make it home. But, regardless, she had to speak reassuringly. She was a doctor, she knew how to reassure others even when she wasn't sure herself. Right now she needed to be more than Mulder's friend, she was in doctor mode. She opened her door and slid inside. Then sat and waited for the car in front of her to start up. It eventually did, and she followed it. She was a little bit scared that he'd lose his way, but she couldn't have gone in front of him. He might have disappeared without her noticing. So she followed him, toward the town, away from the nightmare that lay behind them. Away from the remains of Mulder's family. Scully wasn't sure what the death of his mother would do to him. Most likely it would strengthen his determination to find Samantha. And strengthen his bond to her, his best friend and partner. Either that, or he would probably become secluded, and hidden within himself. She would have to be the one to pull him out. She was his friend, his family, and his psychologist all in one. He needed her more than ever now. And, of course, she would be there for him. When they reached his apartment she would most likely take him up and talk to him, maybe even for the whole night. Perhaps that would help - the comfort of his own home and the soothing sound of her voice. But the car in front of her suddenly turned away from the familiar path to his home. It went another way, away from his home, and toward hers. The car came to a stop in the parking lot in front of the building in which she lived. He obviously wanted to stay with her for the night. She stepped out and approached the other car which Mulder still sat inside of. She looked in, he didn't bother to look back. There he sat, staring out through the windshield, nervously rubbing his hands on his knees. She finally opened the door herself. "Are you going to spend the whole night in here?" She tried to smile, but his teary eyes made the effort dissolve. He shook his head, then gently shoved her away and emerged from the vehicle. She watched him slowly trudge toward the building, away from her, without even looking at her. "I'll be right up," was all she could say. He probably hadn't even heard her. She stood for a few moments, watching his figure disappear into the doorway, and then switching her gaze to the stars. Her heart ached for him, it seemed that everything that could possibly go wrong for him did. And the whole time there was nothing she could do besides sit by him and comfort him. Which was what she was about to do. She sighed, then jogged toward the building. It was going to be a very long night. Scully gently tried to push aside the man who was leaning against the door. "Mulder, you're blocking the door knob." He edged away, turning his face away from the door and toward the wall. The door swung open, and Scully stepped back to let Mulder stumble inside. He collapsed on the couch. And when she squatted down in front of him to feel his forehead he fell into her arms, hugging her, holding onto her. It was exactly how he had been with his mother that first day, only he was the one being comforted now. His mother, that's all he could think about. She was all he had left of his family, and now she was gone. But how could she be? How could his whole family be gone? "She's really dead, isn't she, Dana?" Scully nodded, and murmured a soft yes. He let a tear trickle down his cheek and fall on her shoulder. There was nothing he could have done, he knew that. But he couldn't help but feel responsible. He thought back to the first day he had been with her. He and his mother - so alike, and yet, so different. "That was the same question she asked me, she wanted to know if dad was really dead." Another tear slipped down his face and he hugged Scully tighter. "Now she's dead, and I'm acting exactly as she did." Scully could barely recognize his words. He was really crying now, and mainly what she heard were his little gasps for air. "And you're acting as I did." She nodded the best she could with her head half buried in Mulder's shirt. Suddenly his thoughts changed. He COULD have done something. He could have had someone come in who knew what they were doing. He could have. He knew he could have prevented all this - somehow. "What did I do wrong, Dana?" Scully breathed in. He was blaming himself, she was hoping he wouldn't do this. But he was, it was unavoidable. "Mulder, you did nothing wrong, she just had more problems than you could handle." His brow wrinkled and more tears joined the damp spot on his partner's shoulder. "I couldn't have done anything for her myself.....but if I had gotten someone else....if I had gotten a professional.....maybe she wouldn't have done it...." "Mulder, it's not your fault." She pushed him back and gazed into his eyes. She meant what she said, and her stern voice told Mulder that. But he couldn't accept it. It HAD to be his fault, who else's fault could it be? He was the only one there was to blame. He let himself relive the night - how he had told her he was leaving, how he had left, how he had returned to see a gun to her head. And, how he had just stood there. He had just stood there, he hadn't done anything. It WAS his fault. He pushed Scully to the side and stumbled toward the door, hiccuping as he tripped on his feet and fell onto the door. "It IS my fault, Dana. It's all my fault." The door knob refused to turn despite his pulls. It was locked. It locked him in, but it also locked him out - out of cool freedom. Freedom to run around and do nothing but scream, to go and get himself drunk and come home to puke his troubles all over the rug. To a life of unavoidable self-blame and self-pity, and, ultimately, self-destruction. The only person in that room at that moment that cared about his well-being was Scully. "Dana..." all he could do was say her name. And cry. His back fell against the door. "Dana, it's my fault....I should've stopped her." He slowly slid to the floor, leaving one arm resting on the stubborn door knob. "I could have..." "Mulder..." She stepped closer, but remained standing. "Dana, I could have stopped her, but I chickened out. Plain and simple." The tears continued to pour down his face. "I just stood...and watched...like I did with my sister. "I did it again, Dana. Two times...I've let two of my family members get taken away from me while I just stood and watched. How...." He shook his head, "how could I just let it happen?" Scully stepped up to him, looking down at his crumpled figure. "Mulder, you didn't kill her. She killed herself." "But I could have stopped her!" "And you could've gotten yourself killed, too." He stared up at her, breathing in short gasps. He didn't know what to believe anymore, he didn't care. He just felt guilty, and at a great loss. He had to express that somehow. And he had to let it out. He turned over and emptied his stomach onto the carpet. The next thing he heard Scully's soft sigh, and her footsteps toward the bathroom. His mind whirled, causing another bout of nausea. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. He'd thrown up on his best friend's floor. That was stupid. The next thing he felt was a damp towel being placed on his face, then the sound of someone scrubbing the floor. Footsteps left his side, then returned a few moments later, and a hand rested gently on his back. "Mulder, please, relax. You need to calm down." "I just threw up on your carpet." Scully smiled and began rubbing his back. He had tucked his legs underneath him and was now curled up in a little ball in the floor, his face down toward the carpet. If he hadn't been so pathetic it would have been amusing. "I know, Mulder." Her hand continued to message his back in small gentle circles. What would he do without her? He grinned when he thought of the answer - probably go home and puke all over HIS floor. "Dana?" He had felt her hand lift, then heard her footsteps leading away. She didn't reply, and when he heard her voice he realized what she was doing. "Hi...yes...I'm Agent Dana Scully of the FBI, a friend of mine has reported a suicide....no....he's at my apartment right now.....no.....the address?" He blocked out her voice. What the hell was she trying to do? Get him in trouble? He should have stayed at the crime scene. Then again, he wasn't exactly up to answering questions from probing police. Scully had probably planned everything out, and she probably had done the right thing. Like usual. He groaned and clutched his stomach, turning to his side. Something about traumatic experiences always upset his stomach. "Dana..." He had barely let out the cry when she appeared at his side. He smiled. 'I know a lot of men who would die to know a woman like this.' His eyes darted up toward her, making sure he hadn't said that aloud. But she wasn't giving him that say-that-again-and-I'll-kill-you smile, so he let his head fall back to the ground. She was looking him over now, probing every inch to make sure he was all right. Doctor mode. Her hand fell onto his forehead, feeling for heat. He was normal. She smiled and pulled him up to his feet. He wasn't sick, not physically anyway. He just needed a good talk and a good night's sleep. A good dreamless night's sleep, that was. She wrapped a blanket around him and headed him in the direction of her bedroom. She would sleep on the couch that night. She didn't mind. Either that, or she'd end up sleeping on the floor in her bedroom. Knowing Mulder, he probably wouldn't let her leave. He caught sight of a grin on his face, a sly grin. Now all he wanted was attention. And maybe some reassurance. He'd gotten over the initial shock. "Here, Mulder, make yourself at home." He dropped onto the bed and pulled his shoes off, then leaned back and pulled the covers over him. He watched Scully bustle about, making sure everything was all right. She was taking care of him. She was everything he had now, and he knew she was the only would who would take care of him. She was the only one who had EVER taken care of him. She opened the dresser, pulled out some pajamas, and entered the bathroom. The door closed and he listened as she hummed pleasantly.... His stomach lurched. "Oh, shit." He stumbled out of the bed, the memory of that first day at his mother's house returning like a disease to his weak body. He yanked open the window and spit every last particle that remained in his stomach out into the night. "Something wrong, Mulder?" Scully's muffled voice drifted out into the cool night air. He didn't bother to shout back a response. He'd rather have had her come join him, anyway. Her head peeped out the door to see Mulder leaning out the window. She smiled as she watched him. He was gazing at the stars, looking up at them in bewilderment. She emerged from the bathroom and joined him. "Any room for me?" He edged over, and she leaned onto the pain next to him. When she saw his face, there was the boyish curiosity in them that she hadn't seen in months. It was one she had missed. It was that glint that you see in a small child when he's gazing at a drop of water on a leaf, or a bee flying into it's hive, one that asks a million questions and wants a million answers. And one that says he would find those answers, at any cost. It was a look she thought he'd lost. "You know, Dana, all my life I've been looking toward the stars for my answers. I didn't even think that some were just an hour's drive away." He turned and looked at her, smiling slightly. "Now, all I have left are the stars." He placed his hand on her cheek. "And I have you." A smile stretched across her face, then she folded her hand over his and placed it back on the window pain. "Look Mulder, you've had a long week." She pulled him out of the window and sat him down on the bed. "I think you need some sleep." "I'm awake." "Doctor's orders." She pushed him pack onto the pillow and pulled the covers over him. Then leaned closer to him, a look of concern replacing the playful smile. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?" He sighed and nodded, trying to smile back. But Scully could see his eyes, they were watering. The memories just kept flashing back. "Good night..." "Mulder?" He turned over, trying hard to keep her from seeing the tear that was trickling down his cheek. "We'll talk in the morning." He nodded in agreement, slowly letting his eyes drift closed. He listened as Scully walked toward the door and flicked out the light, then paced back to his side. "Good night." They were the last words he heard before dozing off. And the last thing he felt was the sweet touch of a kiss on his forehead. ---------------------------------THE END------------------------------ So, um, that's it. If you liked it pleeeease e-mail me and say so. (i'm an adolescent, I need a self-confidence boost. ;)) Well, I can't think of anything else to say, so I'll just say goodbye. Goodbye! -Nikki Official SYX President, Typo Maker, Mispeller, and Noter That DD Runs Like A Duck T H E Y O U T H I S O U T T H E R E