From: BelleElle7 <belleelle7@aol.com>
Date: 11 Apr 2002 04:57:58 GMT
Subject: NEW:   A Story of The End 
Source: atxc

Title:  A Story of The End
Author:  Belle (BelleElle7@aol.com)
Rating:  PG
Categories:  V, A, R
Spoilers:  Everything up to 9. 
Summary:  A story of the end.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. 
Distribution: Of course. Don't be underestimate how happy it would make me.
Email me. 

- - - - - - - -

You can't convince a believer of anything;
for their belief is not based on evidence, 
it's based on a deep-seated need to believe.
     -- Carl Sagan

- - - - - - - -


She wondered if there truly existed such a thing.

A happy ending, that is.

The trailing warmth of all things good that wraps itself around the
most broken of fictitious lives, saving the unsaved, finding the lost.
How badly did she need to believe in such a thing, such a chance for a
new and untouchable beginning.

So close was she to this unattainable necessity that its sweetness
lingered on her lips; its breath, in her lungs.  Yet, as with so many
things, she dared not believe.  She needed only to think back to the
last time she'd been given such a hope to hold dear, only to watch it
torn away from her before she could truly taste its truth.

It had hurt.  For each second of each day of each month she had tended
the wounds of Fate's cruel joke, praying for a simple chance to
believe in that hope of ever after.  It was the reason for everything:
this hope, this chance.  It was the reason he had allowed himself to
become swallowed into the darkness of the lost and unsaved, the
endless night of the underground.  He did so for her, for this hope in
which they both desperately needed to believe.

But now, caressed with the physical essence of this hope, of his body
wrapped warmly around hers, laying down in the midst of some nameless
hotel backdrop, she was afraid to believe.

What if it wasn't the end that it appeared to be?  After so long,
after so many days and nights of pining for even the slightest taste
of what she now held, she feared it's reality.

Two days prior, she'd been given a chance to save the unsaved, find
the lost.  To find Mulder.  Not just for a fleeting moment, but for
real.  It was a reality borne out of a hope, a chance to understand
those against them; to understand unthinkable motives and impenetrable
methods; to find a way to stop the unstoppable.

The chaos was beyond them now.

The imminent threat no longer loomed like a winter sky, foreshadowing
the storm from which they had both been forced to take shelter.

The end was now; the completion of one stage of their lives together,
proclaiming the beginning of another.

This was the hope she feared, upon which she dared not bestow belief.

Closer, she drew herself, crushing herself into the blinding senses of
this untouchable necessity beneath her, letting the reciprocating
touch of his hands smooth over her back, her hair.  She knew with his
touch that he could sense her unrest, though he said nothing, silent
as she in this fragile moment.

She knew then what she needed:  the priceless basis of all her belief
when faith failed to suffice.

Proof.

As much as it pained her, she needed proof to believe in this.  This
new beginning that haunted her like a promise never kept.  So
desperately did she need to believe, that she would seek such a thing
that did not exist.  Because you couldn't prove the future.  You
couldn't validate a truth that had yet to happen.  You could only put
faith in it.

She didn't know if she had any left.

This thought made her ache within, this evidence of all the pain that
had slowly deadened her innocence over the years.  It angered her,
this loss, so much that she grew taught, helpless against the ache.  
He felt it.  And finally, he broke the fragile silence that had
hovered between them, his voice barely a whisper, his tone scratchy
with neglect.

"What is it?"

She tensed more with his words, unable to tell him of her fears for
the tomorrow that might not come, for the new set of wounds she would
have to lick in his absence. She lay soundless, unable to speak of the
faith she couldn't put in the next minute, the next hour, the next
day.

"Nothing..." she whispered in the same lapsed tone, her breath against
the cloth at his shoulder.

"Please," he stated with desperation, a hint of anger masked by his
gentle voice.  "Don't lie to me... not now.  Not after everything..."

Guilt swept her, yet still the truth remained stubborn between her
clenched lips.  His hand soothed over her, sweeping away his anger as
he caressed the silk of her strands, leaving only his need for the
truth she was holding in.

"I'm afraid," she began, "...to believe..." The words trembled softly
as they left her mouth.  She was sickened by them, knowing that she
had echoed such a fear far too many times in her life.

"Believe what?" he prompted, the weight of his hand stopping at the
nape of her neck, his fingers lost in her hair.

"... that this is really the end," she clarified, her turmoil resonant
in her voice.  "That everything we feared has left us behind, and that
we could possibly do the same."

"Dana," he responded, her name warm in his voice, as if he'd never
called her anything else.  "It's over.  They can't touch us
anymore..."

"Not just Them, but everything," her fears argued.  "I'm too afraid to
believe that we can just move on, as if this world would suddenly
decide to leave us be..."

"You *have* to believe," he pleaded.  "Because everything we've fought
for, everything we've suffered for... it all revolves around that
belief, Scully... the belief that they can't take this away from us,
that no one can."

She could feel the unasked for tears flood to the surface, her granite
soul left raw by the cycle of ephemeral gain and incessant loss.

"I *want* to, Mulder," she explained through the swelling ache in her
throat. "I want to believe, so badly..."

"So do it.  Don't question it.  Not this."

"But *how*?" she continued to argue.  "How am I supposed to believe in
a happy ending that doesn't even exist..."

"It does," he declared, his tone unwavering.

"You don't know that--"

"I'll prove it to you."

She silenced, confused and curious at his declaration.  She waited,
letting his hands weigh upon her back as she lay upon him, letting
their presence ground her.

"Once upon a time..." he began, his tone no less serious.

"Mulder..."

"Shhh... just listen," he urged her.  Her lips softly shut, the
silence filling her as she waited for him to fill it.

"Once upon a time," he began again, "in a city not so far from here,
in the deepest, darkest depths of a basement meant only for the
seemingly cursed, there existed such a man.  He had not been condemned
there alone by simply those who stood above him, but by his own
obsessions, and consequently, his own self-possessions.  He was
lonely, understood by no one but those who were equally looked-down
upon.  And yet, he was foolishly content, pretending to exist as he
was out of choice, thinking self-righteously that trust was a thing
bestowed only by fools.

"And this was the man he was the day she had been wrongly condemned to
join him in these darkest depths.  So beautiful, so intelligent, this
mysterious maiden could be none other than a spy.  The disillusioned
king of the basement would have none of it.  So, he turned on his
obnoxious charm, intent on turning her on her heels as he did so many
others, freeing himself of such unneeded baggage.  But as stubborn as
this man was, this spy-like woman was more so.  She was not easily
shaken, and as time went on, she proved to be not only strong, but one
of honor and unshakable integrity."  He paused, listening to her
breath ease, the words forming rapidly in his mind as the memories
unfolded.

"Go on..." she said softly, pulling closer, suddenly aching for his
voice.  He gladly gave it to her.

"And so... this man was no longer alone in the darkest depths of the
basement.  Whether for better or worse, she stayed with him there, and
together, they fought what evils they could fight, saving what
innocent they could save.  Not always did they win, but they never
gave up, either.  Eventually, he grew to respect this woman by his
side, and despite himself, he grew to trust her... and ultimately love
her. Though he dared not admit as such to himself, let alone to her.  
And so they continued their fight for what justice they could find,
and she stayed, despite the fates that had befallen her in these
depths of the cursed." He paused, letting his hand comb through her
hair as she lay upon him.  "Fates that he would give anything to take
back..."

She swallowed, struck by the sorrowful resonance of his words.  She
prayed that he knew that she had always known this, but remained
silent.  Somehow, in his silence she felt that he did.  He pulled her
tighter, then continued.

"And yet, they survived.  Despite so many circumstances that would
have claimed the contrary, they continued on, together.  This was
their essence.  In all faces of fate, this was who they were.  His
obsessions had become hers, and together they searched for answers to
the unfillable holes in their lives, their purpose to fight, each one
of personal need.  They were bound by this need, being the only source
of understanding to the other, the only source of trust.

"Because of this, they grew closer, undeniably so.  And yet they did
deny it, stubborn as was their nature.  A silent pact, this denial
was, to keep the bond they feared fragile from severing.  But they
were wrong.  Their connection was not fragile, nor severable.  In
time, for one brief moment, they shut out that fear, falling into the
trap of the undeniable.  Yet, they did so unknowingly, ignorant as to
the truth that would transpire.  The inconceivable reality of which he
almost never knew."

He paused, the tale growing harder to tell.  She waited, listening to
the echo of words that grew thicker as detail was lost to emotion.  
She almost wanted to tell him to stop, to save him from the
unnecessary pain the memories left behind. But she knew he would
continue, intent on finishing what he had begun.

He took an extra moment, letting the words form in his mind; his arms
wandering aimlessly.  One spanned her shoulders, the other falling
silent at the small of her back.

"For months, time and distance tested the fragility and strength of
their connection, both intensifying and weakening that bond.  Alone,
he was, lost where no man should be lost.  And alone, she was,
struggling with questions no mother should have to ask.  When at last
the time and the distance diminished, he was confronted with the
uncertain miracle that was between them.  But the very time and
distance that separated them had deadened him.  He didn't know how to
respond to the questions posed by the existence of all that had
happened.  He didn't know how to smile when he should have.  Slowly,
he came back to himself as much as he could, undoubtedly altered by
both his experience and the presence of such a revelation.  Of such a
possibility.  A possibility that others wanted to take away from him.
From them.  But *never* would he let them."

She was struggling now, denying the tears his words instilled in her.  
Her body lay entirely against his, his voice, a comforting
reverberation in her ear.  But still, she sought him out, desperate to
close the distance that made him seem so untouchable.  He guarded her
as close as he knew how, but still, he pulled her closer.  Turning on
his side, he encircled her, laying his lips against her brow before
continuing.

"In the mean while, he had finally been banished from his home in the
dark basement.  Finally pissing off those who had never been able to
stomach his fight nor his methods.  But he no longer cared.  He was no
longer held by the possessions and obsessions of his past.  His
priorities were different now.  He was held by more important things.  
Like her, and the child between them... This was the family that held
him.  This was the family he never imagined he would have.  But as
soon as he had been given such a chance, Fate took over, stealing it
away once again.  He was forced to sacrifice the only one's he had in
order to believe he would ever have them again.  He was forced to
leave, given no guarantee that he would ever be able to return.

"He did it anyway.  He did so out of unproven belief, out of desperate
faith.  Because he had to believe there was an end to all of the pain
and the madness through which they had suffered.  He *had* to believe
that there was a moment in the story of his life where the truth would
be found, where the guy gets the girl, where the sky is actually blue,
after years of looking into an endless gray.  He *needed* to possess
the determinate truth that he would come home.  Just as he had always
needed to believe that the fight they had been fighting for so long
would be worth it in the end.

"And yet, he was never given proof that it would.  Just as he was
never given proof that he would come home.  But he did.  He did,
Scully.  He did come home.
 And after so much time lost, he refuses to fear tomorrow.  He refuses
to waste another moment on the darkness of such a fear.  *I* refuse
to."

She couldn't respond.  She lay silent, involuntarily sniffling as she
hid her silent tears in his shirt, worn thin with time and distance.  
She didn't know why she would bother to hide from him, when she knew
he had seen all of her, within and without, weaknesses and strengths,
and still he loved her.  He said nothing, and she took the time to let
go of him long enough to wipe the traces from her cheeks.  She lay her
hands back against the front of his threadbare shirt, the crown of her
head tucked under his chin.  She felt his head lift, and then, another
kiss upon her brow.

She wanted to speak, but the words would not come as eloquently as
they did for him.  She wasn't even sure if they would come at all if
she bothered to try.  So, she stayed silent, sinking deeper into his
presence.

She waited for him to continue, but the echo of his voice never
reached her ear, the story suddenly frozen in time as if he didn't
know how to finish.

"I want..." He took a breath.  "I want to marry you."

And thus, the story continued.

She felt the sudden echo of her heart within her, questioning the
words, desperate to believe they were more than a mere fabrication of
her mind.  She had unintentionally stiffened, her breath held by some
unseen force.  She prayed that he would measure her response to be out
of shock, rather than fear.
 When she didn't say anything, he continued.

"I'm serious this time," he stated, his tone echoing his nervous
smile.  When her silence continued, she could feel him tense.

"You want to marry me?" she managed, unable to control the watery echo
in her voice.

"Yes," he told her, no doubt existent in the word. "It's not as if I
haven't felt married to you already for the past nine years, or that I
need some legal document to prove that I love you.  Because I don't.  
And it's not because of some social obligation that I feel the need to
fulfill because of William.  It's none of that. Because I love you and
I love him and I don't need to marry you to prove that to myself or to
you..."  She was looking at him now, no longer hiding the sheen in her
eyes, as she searched his for understanding.

"Then why, Mulder?" she asked softly, almost fearfully.

"Because..." he struggled, looking back, "because it's the only proof
I can give you."  She continued to search the passion in his eyes,
seeing his need for her understanding.

"Proof," she whispered, repeating the word.

"Proof of tomorrow, the next minute, the next year," he explained
ardently.  "Proof that I believe in an existence beyond all of this...
and that I intend to spend every remaining moment, waking or not,
giving you every reason to believe in it, too." He stopped, taking her
face into his hands, her stare trapped in his.  The moment echoed one
he had left out of his story, one where the man had stood in the
hallway outside his apartment, confessing his utter need for the woman
who had become his savior, who had given him completion.

"I don't want to be afraid of them, anymore," he continued, softer.  
"I can't let them take anymore of my life away from me.  You are that
life.  You and William."  She stared back, unable to trust her voice.  
Nervously, unconsciously, he swept the damp from her skin back with
his thumbs.

"I... I can't promise you the perfection of a fairy tale; that the
gate of the white picket fence won't squeak, or that I'll actually
turn out to be a good father, or that nothing bad will every happen to
us again... I can't promise you anything, Dana.  And no one can
promise the same to me, but I'm willing to take that chance.  I'm
willing to believe in the possibility of being happy... if you believe
with me."

This was his proof.  This was his argument for the belief in tomorrow.  
This was what he needed her to have:

His faith.

Wordlessly, she drew herself to cling to him, clinging to the
priceless gift he was giving her.  Her arms wrapped around his neck,
her face smothered by his shoulder.  She nodded, finally giving him
the answer she hoped he'd never doubted.

"I will..." she finally said, hoping her words could be heard through
her tears.  "I will believe with you."  She could feel his smile as he
gripped her gently.

"Yeah?"

She broke from her grasp to face him.

"Yeah."

She smiled, too.  Without a doubt in mind, he kissed that smile with
his own, wanting to give her every ounce of belief he possessed, know
every trace of hers.  He wouldn't let her go, needing to prove to
Fate, herself, that this was the end of all that had haunted and
controlled them.  It was over.  All of it.  They couldn't touch them
anymore.  No one could.

He pulled gently away, kissing her forehead once more as if to seal
the moment in time.  She smiled even more, her face alight yet
exhausted.  He could see the release in her eyes, the lost tension
that no longer loomed over her.  Because, he realized, she had
finally, truly escaped it.  And he could see the drain, the fatigue
that had been left behind by the endless fear, the endless fight.  
She closed her eyes, and leaned in once again, letting him be her
comfort and protection as sleep set itself deep within her.

"Mulder..."  There was one thing left, she realized.  One more thing
unsettled in her mind.

"What is it?" he whispered back.

"What happens," she questioned softly, "to the man and the woman..."
She paused a beat.  "How does their story end?"

He stayed silent, searching for the answer that would paint truth upon
an undecipherable picture.

"Their story..." he whispered finally, "their story never ends."

- - - - - - - - - -

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