TITLE: Standing In The Tomb Of Truth AUTHOR: EPurSeMouve DATE: Tue, 19 May 1998 17:22:30 CATEGORY: V R A RATING: PG SPOILERS: "The End," plus liberal references to past episodes KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance SUMMARY: In the face of defeat, hope is a hard thing to find. DISCLAIMER: This story contains characters and mythology spawned by The X-Files, a show copyrighted by CC and 1013 Productions. Video store clerks don't earn enough for decent legal defense, so please don't sue me over anything within. DISTRIBUTION: Please forward to A.T.X.C. Archive anywhere you like, but let me know (just because I like knowing where my stories are) and keep my name with it. Dedicated to David and Gillian for the simply phenomenal acting of the last scene of "The End." Also dedicated to Whitney Cox and anyone else who smiled when Da Bitch took Da Bullet. Comments to EPurSeMouve@goplay.com. I'd love to hear from y'all, and I swear, "Soap and Eggs IV" really is coming along. But sometimes, there are things that take priority over others. And season finales rank right up there. Standing In The Tomb Of Truth By EPurSeMouve "For truth requited, To death, defiant, In defeat, united, On love, reliant." -Lillia Zethberem In the darkness of a fire-ravaged portion of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, the potent smells of burned paper and plastic were starting to give Dana Scully a headache. But she didn't notice the pain. She didn't notice the smoke making her eyes water. She didn't notice the fumes burning her throat. Instead, she just stared. Just stared at the mess that the inferno had made of the office. Their office. Their files. Their quest. Their dreams.... She'd been through much pain and suffering during her - THEIR - pursuit of an elusive Truth. Mourned many loved ones. Been dejected and discouraged time and time again. Given up normalcy and safety and honor as she and Mulder had tried to fight the good fight. Mulder.... She had watched the one man who meant the world to her lose sanity, health, and hope more than once. Been forced to pick up the pieces of his heart and reassemble them in some sort of working order. Somehow, she had thought that past pain would, at least, give her some basis for dealing with future sorrow. That dealing with the near-loss of Mulder to the boxcar and its combustible contents, the discovery of her lifespan cut short, the death of a little girl who had done no one any harm, would give her the ability to say that she had already gotten through the worst. But now, as she stood amongst the chaos of firefighters and police lights and investigators, she knew that nothing would ever compare to this feeling. This feeling of complete, total, absolute defeat. She had felt something like it in Mulder's apartment a few hours ago, delivering the news that they were to be separated, that the X-Files were going to be closed for good. But even then, there had been hope. Hope that could only be found in the files. The cluttered reports, halfhazardly collected data, and yellowed newspaper clippings that had become the life of one man and one woman. The well-thumbed file folders, organized into a system that could only be cracked by someone who knew the way Mulder's mind worked. The metal filing cabinets and manila-colored stacks had powered their investigations for so long. Powered *them* for so long.... She couldn't even think the thought. It was impossible to comprehend. Impossible to believe that the X-Files, the one constant in her now-turbulent universe, the one thing that had withstood separations and abductions and faux suicides, were now done extra crispy by an arsonist's match. Without the files, the evidence, the hard data and deep background, what was left of the X-Files? Of the quest? Each other. They had each other. But the X-Files had brought her and Mulder together, made them one - what would they be without them? No longer partners, if They had Their way. She and Mulder had passed the level of friendship a long time ago - it was no longer a satisfying thought. And the idea of a couplehood beyond that was exhilarating, but she couldn't imagine a real relationship with Mulder. At least, one that didn't have them alternating nights in bed with nights on monster hunts. She had always pictured them finding a way to incorporate both into their lives. Pictured them *needing* to incorporate both. Would the death of the X-Files be the death of their bond? Too many questions. And there were no answers to be found in that smoky tomb of their dearest hopes and dreams. She turned to Mulder, finding her grief reflected in his eyes, along with a touch of anger that frightened and reassured her in equal measures. It was an anger she well understood. A deep need to see the one responsible for this pay. She grasped his arm, looked deeper into his eyes, his soul, and found her questions being asked by him as well. At least she could rely on that - rely on their minds being exactly in sync as they explored, questioned, and challenged the unknown. They stood there, bonded by mind and spirit, mourning what seemed the loss of everything. Justice, vengeance, certainty. Truth. They stood there, souls entwined, until Scully found it too much and pulled into his body, resting her head against his chest as her eyes darted around, taking in the smoky walls and charred equipment. And they stayed that way for what seemed like hours, taking comfort now from physical proximity as well as spiritual, until Mulder spoke at last. "We can't give up, Scully." She didn't move at all, just spoke as quietly as he had. "I don't know if we can go on, Mulder." He shook his head above her, the gesture ruffling her hair from side to side. "We can. We always have before." The tears almost crept out, but she held them back. "It's different now, Mulder. They're gone. They're all gone." "But we're here." He said it as though convincing himself. But he said it with strength. "We're here together. And that's enough." She nodded - rubbed - her head against his shoulder. He was right. It'd be a test of their strength, their trust. But over the past five years, what hadn't tested them so? Not much. They stood there, partner and partner, man and woman, friend and friend, leaning into each other for the strength to keep standing. Against the sorrow of their ravaged sanctuary, they stood, one figure against the darkness of the night. One soul in two people, searching for the will to keep struggling. For they knew that, whatever lay ahead, they would have to be able to fight the future. Together. The End - of the Beginning Or the Beginning of the End Comments to EPurSeMouve@goplay.com Thank you for reading.