From: Mulder6758@aol.com Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2000 19:01:12 EDT Subject: On A Warm July Evening... By C. Charlotte Source: direct On A Warm July Evening... By C. Charlotte Mulder6758@aol.com Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and all other regularly appearing characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and FOX. Any characters that aren't well known are most likely mine. Distribution: Anywhere, everywhere and Gossamer. Just please keep my name and email address attached. Rating: PG-PG13 Keywords: some angst, slight MSR but nothing too major. Spoilers: The End (tiny one) Summary: A possible ending to the X-Files. Author's Notes: After reading a fanfic of a possible ending to the X-Files I was inspired to write one of my own primarily because I was so disturbed in how the person had chosen to end seven years of the show that I've been faithfully watching for most of my 15-year old life. Half of my life actually. That's a pretty big thought. But I'm rambling.....thankyous to Amorxfiles, Scully0918, TheXFileAlien and PyrenesPup, all of whom read these fanfics before they ever actually reach the hands of the web. You guys have certainly been a tremendous influence and help. <>x<>x<> Part 1/2 <>x<>x<> "It's time to leave." she had said that early evening in July. Her words had not been much more than a fleeting whisper on a summer night's breeze, but had someone yelled them at me, I couldn't have gotten the message more clearly. Turning to look at her, it was apparent just how tired she was and how much we had given up in seven years together. Her eyes had once been so brightly blue they could have blinded any man. They were just pale that night on the Potomac River. Neither of us had known the other used that particular stretch of beach as a resting space. Our case load was heavy, the week was over, and we were simply looking for someplace to calm down, relax and digest and maybe, just maybe, lose ourselves in the beauty of an otherwise secluded spot where alien conspiracies, alien bounty hunters and the effects of cancer could never find us. And in the course we found each other. That sounds so startlingly poetic and so unlike myself that I want to laugh. But I'm not a poet and I'm not going to laugh. While I had always expected one of us to eventually lose interest in our 'pure' cause, I hadn't anticipated how soon it would come. But when Scully uttered those handful of words, I knew she was right. I never said so, I was desperately trying not to admit it to myself, but as always, Scully had hit the nail on the head. It *was* time to leave. I think, once, that some philosopher said endings were simply doors to new beginnings. Maybe, maybe not. If there is something beyond life with the X-Files I'm praying that it's kind to the both of us. The Saturday evening that I found Scully, no- the night that I found *Dana* sitting on the shore line with a book, a CD player and a bottle of water was warm, tantalizing as seaweed smells mixed with the tangy scent of nearby grass clippings, and soothingly quiet except for the lapping of the waves and the strains of music coming from Dana's player. She had been mildly surprised to see me there, but quickly willing to make room on her blanket for me and the book was gone in an instant. The scene is still clear in my head, a week later, as I stand here in the now bare office save for a few items I had yet to remove. The water was reflecting the gold of the setting sun, as was her hair. Dressed simply in faded shorts, black sandals and a pastel lilac top she looked more at home lounging on the sand than she ever had in a suit on a case. Maybe that was the irony of the whole situation. She felt at home because work wasn't involved. Well, except for me. Secretly I think I've always represented work to her, although she'd be quick to deny that thought as simple insanity on my part. I don't know why I've never been able to picture Dana enjoying the outdoors. Maybe it's because there is a permanent picture ingrained in my head of Dana being the kind of woman who simply got things done and didn't have time for fancies and thrills. I'm probably partly to blame for that. If I had to pick one bad habit I think Dana's picked up from me it would have to be the sense of extreme workaholism that we both have now. It's inasmuch a part of our personalities as her cross and my sister. Half an hour later of small talk about nothing, we were waiting in line at the ice cream cart. Ten minutes after that we were back on the blanket with our respective treats. The night was over much too quickly for my own tastes. We made plans as far as our jobs would go, said goodnight and see you later to each other and left. And exactly one week and two days later I'm in the office, several boxes by the door, several more in the car and one in my arms as I take one last look around the room that has housed us for the last seven years of our lives. The last seven years of blood, sweat, tears and more sacrifices than I was ever really willing to make for the goal I was pursuing. Soft sounds of high heels clicking on linoleum cause me to turn and in the doorway stands the woman herself. She's not in her normal office outfit. There is no need to be. Technically neither of us are any longer employees of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the government in general but I have my suit on, as I have always worn. It's comforting in the last few times that we'll probably share together. A sense of normalcy when everything I once had is now blowing by. She smiles, a soft smile and one that I haven't seen for as long as I can remember. She has maintained that casual and laid-back look she had on the beach nine days ago, but slightly more dressed up. Her nails are manicured, each a pale rose color, each perfect as they have always been. And she looks uniquely un- Scullyish in an above-the-knee length skirt and pale green v-neck tee shirt that shows off many of the curves she has always hidden to remain professional over the years. She wears sizable heels, not the dress ones she used to wear, but a pair of comfortable looking sandals that show off manicured toenails painted in the same rose color as her hands, and a touch of makeup on her face that she doesn't really need. Both of us have handed in our resignations, received our final paychecks, and said goodbye to the few friends we managed to maintain over the years. And had a good chunk of time to really suck up the feeling of finality. She walks over, clicking against the linoleum, and picks up one of the random pictures out of the box I'm holding. Studying it, she looks up at me. "What are you doing here?" she ask in a softly lilting voice. "Cleaning out the rest of the my junk." I whisper softly, not entirely trusting my voice at the present time. She seems to find some kind of delight at that and nostalgically runs her fingers over the picture of the blurred UFO. "No one ever said it was junk." she replies softly, the slightest hint of sadness creeping up into her tone. <>x<>x<> Part 2/2 <>x<>x<> What am I talking about? Of course its junk. But it's the junk that Mulder and I have devoted almost a decade of our lives to. Maybe that's why it feels so horrible to see it in a cardboard box by the door of a now empty office. And I'm guessing there's probably much more in the back of Mulder's car. Looking around, I can't see his 'I Want to Believe' poster on any of the walls or in any of his boxes. "Where's your poster?" I ask, turning to face him. A sad smile appears on his face and he turns around, revealing the poster rolled up and tied in a length of green ribbon. Picking it up, he turns back to me and lays the precious roll in my hands. "I want you to have it." he says, offering another small smile to apparently finish off his explanation. I rolled it around in my hands, allowing my fingers to travel over the slightly sticky surface of the image that had remained on his wall for almost seven years, except for the time when we had no office due to a fire. "Don't you want it?" I ask, slightly surprised that he has given it to me. "I-I'm giving it to you..." he began, his voice breaking and faltering ever so slightly, "because I'm hoping that it'll keep you from forgetting about me." Tears rose to my eyes at the simple and yet deep meaning of his words. Bringing up a free hand, I wiped the tears away and leaned forward to hug him gently. "Oh, Mulder. How could I ever forget the man who taught me how to keep the Accounting Department from figuring out that we'd gone way over our monthly quota for hotel and rental car bills?" His impromptu lesson in fooling the Accounting agents had risen after we had been reprimanded by Skinner for plowing two separate cars into sections of railing sometime during our second year together as partners. He frowns and pulls away slightly to study my face. "Is that all I've been able to teach you in seven years?" he asks, disappointed in himself I suppose. Shaking my head no, I turn and take one last look at the office. It looks so....utilitarian without our desks, books, pictures and everything else in it. "You've taught me other things. Like how to open my heart up to things that can't necessarily be explained by conventional science." I reply to his earlier question. Nodding, he considers my words and then pulls me into another hug. I can fell my eyes welling with tears as I think about the fact that this is probably the last time I'll see him. Pulling away, and wiping away a few tears that have managed to fall, I reach up and kiss him gently on the lips. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for that?" he teases with a grin. "I should have done it a long time ago." I whisper back, hugging him one last time before walking to the door. Turning back I study the office one more time and try to memorize the images into my head. "So this is it?" I ask in whisper tones. "I guess so." he replies just as quietly, if not more so. "Oh god Mulder. Do you think we're making the right decision by walking away." I add, as I try my hardest to fight back the tears that keep threatening to fall. "We've both lost that passion and drive Scully. And we've both lost so much over the years. I think, that maybe, this is the end of the road." he replies sadly. I nod one last time and hesitate in the doorway. "Bye Mulder." I hear myself say finally as I turn and face the hallway. Halfway down the stretch of white and grey I hear his lost- sounding reply of "Goodbye" and then the elevator arrives and I am gone. <>x<>x<>