From: spooky24@mindspring.com Date: Sat, 08 Apr 2000 16:25:33 -0400 Subject: Up Against the Stars (1 of 1) by PRT Source: xff Title: Up Against The Stars Subtitle: Pennyroyal buckles down and pens something serious instead of a filk or a poem. Author: Pennyroyal Tea E-Mail: Spooky24@mindspring.com Distribution: Everywhere, Spookys, Gossamer, etc. Just let me know the URL. Spoilers: Tiny ones for Irresistible/Orison, Tooms, Small Potatoes, Home, Trevor, major SUZ/Closure. Yep, it's one of THOSE fics! Rating: G Classification: V Summary: Pondering!Scully thinks about skepticism, walk-ins, and starlight in the final moments of "Closure." Disclaimer: Not mine, but when the season ends, can we bid for them on eBay? Loads of thanks to Mary Greten for editing this very late post-ep and cleaning it up considerably. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ People see me as a cold, hard skeptic. Maybe I am what I personify. Maybe because I've had my feet rooted in it for so long. There was a time, believe it or not, when I wasn't as skeptical. When I was young I believed there were creatures under the bed and in the closet, and a glowing night light would send them scampering away. I believed in angels and spirits and saints. Sometimes I still do, so perhaps I'm not really as skeptical as one might be led to think. I don't know when I stopped believing. Was it too 'uncool' to think there were aliens when I strolled the halls of high school in my torn jeans and my "Anarchy In The UK" T-shirt? Was it childish to believe everyone had a guardian angel sitting on their shoulder after my Sunday school teacher was murdered in his front yard? Maybe it started back in medical school. I learned what controlled the body, what made it work. Seeing the bones and sinews, the main essence and structure of a human body left no room for any kind of transparent spirit to fly out to heaven. It could have been at Quantico, when I realized who the real monsters were. No more room in young Dana Scully's head for the green, snaggle-toothed, horned, growling ogres that lived among the dust bunnies. Dana Scully's monsters now cut off fingernails and hair, ate livers, shape shifted, inbred, and walked through walls. I can't put my finger on exactly when I became disenchanted with the magical and paranormal, but I know it happened somewhere along the way to change me into the person I am today. Yet I do want to believe in Mulder and Piller's walk- ins, I really do. It's just so difficult to change a mindset. I hoped I would feel them in that old house on the army base. I wanted to see a walk-in so badly. I wanted to see my father, Melissa, or my little girl Emily, or, for Mulder's sake, Samantha. To prove to myself that they did exist, that I still believed, that I wasn't the stoic skeptic I appeared to be. I felt Mulder's warm fingers slip from mine. I heard his footsteps take him into another room. I waited almost impatiently for the old souls to greet me, but nothing happened. I left the house saddened and disappointed. The walk-ins know me for my true self. They know I'm unbelieving. They know I'm set in my disbelief, like Samantha and Jeffrey's handprints in cement. Wanting to believe and believing are two different things. Now, standing outside of Nurse Ray's house, I stare at Mulder as he walks out of the woods. I know he saw something out there, because of the way he disappeared like fog on a sunny day while I was talking to Nurse Ray and because of the trancelike state he was in when he returned. I haven't seen him this serene in, well...ever, I think. Like he had finally reached the top of the mountain, let the albatross go from around his neck, he had closed the doors on everything. It was then that I realized he found Samantha. "Mulder," I ask, "where did you go?" "End of the road," he replies, and then proceeds to tell Piller about his boy. Piller angry and skeptical, yells and stomps off. "Mulder, what happened? Are you sure you're all right?" I ask, even though I already know the answers. "I'm fine," he replies, taking a page out of my book. I realize he isn't just giving me empty assurance. He looks up at the sky. "I'm free." He walks ever so nonchalantly towards the car after this earth-shattering statement. I can only stand numbly staring at his receding form. After twenty-seven years of searching, he's calm and quiet. The storm of questions and answers has settled, and all is right, supposedly. I look up at the night sky filled with stars. I'm beginning to believe they really are up there as starlight: Samantha, Piller's little boy, Amber Lynn LaPierre, maybe even Melissa and Emily. As if I'm unsure of what I'm getting myself into, I feel a strange uneasy tickle in my stomach at this thought. For so many years Mulder fought to find her, and now he has. I fought too, though not as long and hard as he. It feels like we've been fighting Samantha herself the whole way, fighting bad leads and the vaguest of clues, paths that led to her barely distinguishable from our main road, as if she didn't want us to find her, despite any hopes she penned in her diary. I feel we've been struggling with Samantha in the starlight. For seven years we've been up against her star and all the other "walk-ins." Up against the stars who did not want to be found or to provide clues as to what happened to them so we could do our job and piece it all together. Like they want to stay an enigma for the rest of our lives. "Hey, Scully, you coming?" Mulder calls. I draw my eyes away from the sky and to my partner. "Yeah," I reply. I toss one more look at the sky full of stars, full of old souls, and walk towards the car. His eyes are finally tranquil. No longer full of torment and anguish over his lost sister. I wish I could say the same for myself. Hopefully tomorrow, after I've given it all a chance to sink in, I can make sense of it all. The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I couldn't see you; you were up against the stars." --SH ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~