Date: 27 Nov 2000 00:09:34 GMT Subject: REPOST: This Woman's Work (1/1) Title: This Woman`s Work(1/1) Author: Molly Spoilers: Up to Season Eight. Rating: PG Classification: Scully POV, MSR Archive: Anywhere. Just ask my permission first! Thanks. Summary: "My therapist calls it "searching behavior." Seeing the faces of a lost loved one in others. Only Mulder wasn't lost; at least not to me anyway. That's what I didn't understand." Disclaimer: Schmisclaimer. Ha ha! I saw that somewhere and couldn't resist! Yes, they all belong to the big kahuna. Blah, blah, blah. But if *I* ruled the X-Files universe... Feedback: LilArtzyDiva@cs.com --------------------- "This Woman's Work" By Kate Bush Pray God you can cope. I'll stand outside This woman's work, This woman's world. Ooh, it's hard on the man. Now his part is over. Now starts the craft of the father. I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left. I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left. I should be crying, but I just can't let it show. I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking: All the things I should have said, but I never said. All the things we should have done, but we never did. All the things I should have given, but I didn't. Oh, darling, make it go, Make it go away! Give me these moments back. Give them back to me. Give me that little kiss. Give me your hand. I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left. I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left. I should be crying, but I just can't let it show. I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking Of all the things I should have said, but I never said. All the things we should have done, but we never did. All the things that you needed from me. All the things that you wanted for me. All the things that I should have given, but I didn't. Oh, darling, make it go away. Just make it go away now.... ---- June 2000 My therapist calls it "searching behavior." Seeing the faces of a lost loved one in others. Only Mulder wasn't lost; at least not to me anyway. That's what I didn't understand. Sure, it clearly stated the details of his disappearance---his abduction from Bellefleur, Oregon, in May. X-File Number 10131121. Skinner watched it happen. He told me there was nothing he could do. Detail by precious detail recorded in the Assistant Director`s field report. How ironic. Mulder had become his own X-File. But that didn't clarify anything for me. Mulder was still out there, along with his truth, and I would find him. I had to find him. So I naively searched for Mulder as I poured my orange juice in the morning, recalling a few days ago when we had discussed the details of a case we were working on over breakfast at a small diner. I found him in the face of a passer-by, the back of his head--the blunt yet soft cut of the hair, the strangely vulnerable nape of his neck--was terribly familiar. I felt as if I was standing outside myself, watching my life play on as if I was no longer a part of it. A book slipped out from the bag he was shouldering, and I bent down to pick it up with trembling fingers. Oh, Mulder... I found myself running up to him, (i love you) touching his shoulder briefly. "Mulder?" He spun around immediately, and my breath caught in my throat as I stared into his darkly tanned face, which held a look of concern. And his eyes--his eyes were... Ocean blue, behind thin wire-rimmed glasses. He frowned. "Do I know you?" "N-no," I said. "I-I thought you were. someone.." He smiled a two-hundred watt smile, and reshouldered his bag. "S'okay," he said, and crossed his arms, studying me. "But I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before..." I shook my head sadly. "You dropped this," I said slowly, holding the book out to him. His eyes widened. "Hey, thanks! You're a real lifesaver," he said, flashing another I-go-to-my-dentist-twice-a-month smile as he began to walk away, slowly meshing into the throng of people crossing the next street over. I can't remember if he even said goodbye. XxXxXxX I searched in the hospital. Where every doctor knows our name. We had shared our first kiss there, and afterwards, Mulder had taken me to the beach a little before dawn. I smiled at the thought of Mulder sitting with his arms around me as we watched the first sunset of the new millennium, sharing brief kisses and saying nothing. Our time together was so short; it was for this very reason that I held onto these few precious memories with a firm grasp. I searched within myself last. I didn't find him there, but I looked hard enough. The morning after I arrived home from that same hospital, I stared into my reflection, clammy hands grasping the edges of the sink with strength I wasn't sure I had. I studied the mirror for a long time. The woman who stared back regarded me with tired blue eyes, a smirk on her face and an ache in her heart. She didn't smile. Couldn't smile. It was physically impossible for her to produce a simple positive expression in such circumstances. The woman in the mirror looked outwardly confidant, masking her sorrow as she had always done, but her soul spoke volumes. She was concealing a heavy secret from the world, an unexpected gift. I pulled my gaze away from this unrecognizable being, and cast my eyes downward. I began to button my olive green blouse with slow, sluggish movements. At least I had the buttons. Something to focus on. I finish, and looking back at my smug twin, let out a sigh. Mulder loved this shirt. XxXxXxX I thought of my lover as I went through the motions in the hallway of FBI Headquarters. The mutual friend at the front desk whose words were friendly, but tone was downhearted, as if he felt sorry for me. The security guard who had first unknowingly scanned the chip in my neck. How much we had shared, yet not discussed. He smiled at me as he also went through his routine, and let me pass. I was not a woman to be pitied. Continuing my trip, I concealed a small smile; neither man possessed any knowledge of my secret. I pressed the button marked "Basement" on the elevator's metallic key panel. I was making the journey alone. I had done it many times before, but now I felt a true sense of isolation, as if the entire world had vanished and I alone was standing in the middle of it. Was this the way Mulder had felt when he first joined the bureau? Poor "Spooky" Mulder, whose ideals were cast aside as different, bizarre, and he when he pushed the limits of his profession, he was called "out of control." Young and inexperienced, I believed the rumors upon meeting Agent Fox Mulder that fateful day eight years ago. When I entered our office at the end of the hallway in the basement, I half-expected to find Mulder idly leaning back in his chair, muscular arms stretched behind his head and throwing pencils skyward. He would smile his boyish smile, and his eyes would still have a mischievous twinkle in them. "What did you expect, Scully? Aliens?" No, Mulder. I expected you. Instead, I found half a dozen agents tearing the office apart, casting aside boxes upon boxes of paperwork, rifling through rows of file cabinets, ripping off posters... "What the HELL is going on here?" I demanded, one hand on the silver doorknob. I thought "The Ice Queen" (as I was affectionately refferred to among my co-workers) had finally thawed out, but it appeared to me that she had resurfaced, ready to attack with bared teeth and cruel intentions. I was rudely informed that this was all part of the manhunt for Mulder, that if I had any questions, should go see the man in charge. Cast out of my own office, I angrily headed up to Assistant Director Skinner, whereas he joined me in paying a little visit to his superior, the newly appointed Deputy Director Kersh. Again, I was rudely accused of playing a part in Mulder's disappearance. A man was appointed leader of the task force in this "manhunt". Special Agent John Doggett; Kersh's leader. Doggett, who lied to me at our very first meeting, first by omission, then casually implying he knew Mulder. He tried to pry our secrets from me by telling me I didn't really know my own partner, that Mulder confided in others, that he never trusted me. I always trusted Mulder, I told myself, with my life, my heart and soul. Of course there had been obstacles and roadblocks along the way; such things usually arise in every relationship. I always felt--no, knew that he had trusted me with equally as much love and devotion as I showed him. Didn't he? This sort of heated discussion with my temporary partner raised all kinds of new questions in my mind about Mulder, and our relationship. What was it, exactly, my mind prodded, this...bond I shared with Mulder. It was--it is a fragile, beautiful, and above all, loving relationship which took seven years to pull together and had now, from that love, created a new life growing within me. The baby. I had sworn Skinner to confidentiality about my pregnancy the day I found out about it. We both agreed it was the right thing to do, considering the circumstances. The circumstances being that I was with Mulder's child. Some might call it a miracle of medical science, as I was once considered barren. Hard to believe as it was at the time, I slowly got over my shock that I was pregnant, and settled into the fact that Mulder and I, whenever he came home, would eventually raise this child together within the union of marriage. Although we had considered it, deciding that we did love each other, after all, and we weren't getting any younger... XxXxXxX The reviled feeling of mixed isolation and grief swept over me again as I entered his apartment for the first time after his abduction. I switched on the light, a natural response. Perhaps I had been in the dark too long, perhaps I wanted warmth, and lost electricity. The apartment did still look lived in, however. His desk was in desperate need of a good polishing, and I noticed his laptop was gone. I shook my head, and ventured into his bedroom next. The bed was unmade, sheets tossed carelessly about, the comforter balled up in a tight wad next to the collection of cream colored pillows. It looked so inviting until I laid my eyes on one of his gray shirts at the foot of the mattress. I took the shirt between my fingers, my breath catching in my throat. Tears plagued the corners of my eyes as I lay down on the mattress, clutching the shirt in my hand. I closed my eyes, inhaling the familiar smell of Mulder's cologne embedded in Muldershirt fibers; falling asleep to the sound of my own shallow breathing. XxXxXxX We are heading towards Arizona now; the heat is a few degrees above boiling point, making the air around us ripple with its intensity; creating mirages of puddled water on the hot concrete ahead of us. Beads of perspiration are running down my forehead, but I wipe them away with a spare Kleenex. Skinner is driving with both hands on the steering wheel, his eyes are focused on the road ahead. He looks at the road map, smoothing out various creases. Pushing his wire-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he places one elbow on the edge of the wheel, and turns to me. "Seems to me there's a fork in the road up ahead, Dana. Where do you want to go? Left or right?" Deja vu. I glance toward the horizon, squinting as the sun casts its hot rays into my eyes. His presence is strong here, like an undercurrent riding on the swells of heat. Something in the back of my mind registers that Skinner has asked me a question. "--think it's a better idea. Scully? Scully, are you listening?" I snap back to reality, and slowly turn my head to face him. It was another path, one which I was certain was the correct one. All the other ones are wrong, I told myself. You need to take the plunge. A thought occurs to me; Mulder's words a few years back in Texas become a haunting echo in my mind. It was like I was hearing them for the first time. "Have I ever been wrong, Scully? Well, driving anyway," Mulder's mirage remarks, biting off a sunflower seed's shell and tossing it to the wind. "Straight," I say to Skinner, placing a hand on my still-flat abdomen. We will find him. I know he is out there. And I will never stop searching. END ----------- AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story took me about a week to write. It's my first attempt at a (completed) fan fic and Scully POV. After about a month of frustration in writing a pre-Within or post-Requiem story, I erased all my scribbling and decided on a post-Within! During this story, I listened to Kate Bush's "Sensual World," and found this song which really spoke to me about how Scully feels. A part two might be on the way! Please let me know what you think! FEEDBACK: Gmanismine@cs.com THANKS TO: Pita, my wonderful beta!! You rock!!