From: BirdieW328@aol.com
Date: Sun, 20 Dec 1998 19:29:13 EST
Subject: Unbelief

Title - Unbelief
Author - Birdie W
Rating - PG
Classification - VA-Vignette/Angst
Spoilers - The End
Keywords - 
Summary - Scully does some serious thinking as she looks over the ashes of the
office.
DISCLAIMER:  Mulder, Scully, and the X-Files do not belong to me, they belong
to Fox and Chris Carter.  

Unbelief

The first thing she smelled was the unbelief.  Unbelief was almost like a new
word to her.  Denial meant exactly the same thing, but it was not new in here
line of work, of life. 
*Unbelief is not a word.*  Her mind said, as though taunting her, making her
brain feel numb and dizzy.  Right now she could not tell whether it was a word
or not, but she knew the word did not exist in Mulder's vocabulary.
Disbelief was the word, but like denial, it was common.  Unbelief.
      Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to hide the pain, and the
twisted look on Mulder's face showed the same.  The place where she had
dwelled day after day for an entire five years, the cheeriness and comfort the
room gave her when she walked in to see Mulder lounging back reading a
magazine to her distaste, or an X-File.  The smell of salt and spit
minglinging on the pile of sunflower seed shells that had always sat on the
table.  Her chest heaved, and a wave of nausea washed over her entire body.
Usually she would sit down in the chair; her chair.  No, not now though.
      'I WANT TO BELIEVE.'  The words on the crisped and burned poster sneered
at her.  No, they did not sneer.  They begged.  The photos were not photos
anymore...like a strange overwhelming black magic, the pictures and papers had
disengrated under and orange water that was not liquid.  Into ashes and black
pieces of absolutely nothing.  The desk; charred and sagging.  Mulder; hurt
and angry.
      Unmoving, she picked up her life in this room with her soul.  "Dana..."
Mulder had said lifting her chin with his strong but gentle hand.  She
remembered the day.  The day was denial.  "I'm sorry about your father..."
Mulder had said softly.  She had tried to forget that day but now everything
that had happened in this room she wanted to recollect.
      The first day of new career; her first glimpse at the room.  What had
she cared then?  She looked blankly at the file cabinets.  Inside she knew was
all Mulder lived for.  The X-Files were NOT just just X-Files.  The X-Files
were Samantha.  It had taken Scully a bit to understand it but she knew Mulder
had always known, and now he saw it all destroyed.  His life was destroyed.
      Suddenly instead of pain and sorrow, a wave of anger slowly crept over
her, not like the fast splash of nausea that had overtaken her when she first
saw the room.
*The bastards...*  She suddenly just wanted to cry.  She wanted let let her
tears spill over Mulder's lost life, and somehow she hoped it would revive it
somehow.  They had murdered him.  They murdured Mulder!  The petite redhead
knew plently about murders.  Dead people who were put in that position on
purpose by another being, her mind said.  But her soul disagreed.  This is
murder, it said.  Killing a man's spirit, watching his willpower slowly die
out to nothing.
      But a fire was rekindled in her heart.  Somehow, her willpower will be
his.  She would give it to him.  No matter how unbelievable the situation she
WOULD stick by him and give him support.  Not like she would change or
anything.  She knew it was almost impossible, even with Mulder's strong body
and spirit, to budge her out of reality, to take away her mostknown
personailty trait; skeptisism.  She glanced at Mulder, and she saw his bright
eyes suddenly dullen, clouding over.
      Scully felt a warmth by her heart.  She looked down to see her golden
cross.  It was not Scully's cross.  It was both Scully and Mulder's cross-over
the years they had melted together to become one and they knew that the other
would do anything for the other.  
      Scully looked over at Mulder, whose shoulders did not sag but stay up,
strong and confident--ready to literally kill who had burned his life to a
crisp.  She took and few steps over to him and embraced him.  He did not hug
her back, but she knew he couldn't.  Mulder felt Scully press something in his
hand.  He looked down.
      A cross.  A golden cross.


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