From: "A. R." <conspiracy13@hotmail.com>
Date: Sat, 25 Nov 2000 20:29:26 
Subject: xfc: The Way Things Are
Source: xfc

Title: The Way Things Are
Author: conspiracy <conspiracy13@hotmail.com>
Rated: PG/PG-13 (includes the 'F' word! <gasp>)
Timeline/Spoilers: Takes place a little over a year after Closure, taking 
nothing that happened after that episode into account. Requiem and season 8 
are COMPLETELY disregarded.
Category: SA
Keywords: Mulder/other, MSR, Angst
Archive: Absolutely anywhere as long as my name and e-mail stay with it. I 
would greatly appreciate being notified, however.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me. They are property of 20th 
Century Fox and 1013 Productions. Don't sue.
Summary: Eight years is a long time to wait.


The Way Things Are
By conspiracy <conspiracy13@hotmail.com>

I wouldn't know what to do with another chance
If you gave it to me
I couldn't take the embrace of a real romance
It'd race right through me
I'm much better off the way things are
Much much better off, better by far, by far
I wouldn't know what to say to a gentle voice
It'd roll right past me
And if you chalk it up you'll see I don't really have a choice
So don't even ask me
I'm much better off, the way things are
-Fiona Apple, "The Way Things Are"


     Samantha.
     Mulder's quest to find his sister had always come before anything and 
everything else in his life-it was only fitting that Scully should now come 
second to a woman of the same name.
     A year or so earlier, he probably would have been bothered by the 
obvious psychology behind falling in love with a woman four years his junior 
with brown hair who answered to 'Sam', but apparently this was not an issue 
now that he was no longer obsessed by that particular vendetta. Now that he 
was 'free'.
     Scully felt the tears burning behind her eyes at the memory. No one 
else had heard that quiet statement of liberation firsthand. Samantha 
Hansley may have heard the tales of heartache that Mulder could relay with 
such passion, but only she, Scully, had been there by his side for the last 
eight years living through it.
     Didn't that mean anything anymore?
     Mulder was staring at her with a cautious gaze, his body only a few 
inches from hers on the couch in his apartment. The one he now shared. "The 
wedding's in June," he'd just told her. "You're invited. I'd ask you to be 
my maid-of-honor, but then Sam would get to pick the groomsmen and I already 
promised the guys they'd be included." He'd smiled a small smile that begged 
for a return, but she didn't have the strength. "Unless, of course, you 
think Frohike would make a good flower girl." The corner of her mouth turned 
upward and she had to turn away from him before he saw the tears that nearly 
fell just then.
     "What's wrong, Scully?"
     She stole a glance at him and wanted to sob. There was so much care in 
his expression that she could almost fool herself into thinking it was more 
than just friendly affection. She wondered now if she'd always been fooling 
herself.
     When no answer came from her, Mulder brought his fingers to her chin 
and gently turned her face to his. The simple gesture sent a chill through 
her. There would be no time after this, she told herself. It was already 
April and for once they were alone.
     "I love you," she whispered, staring down at the floor. Her eyes lifted 
to Mulder's face, searching for a reaction. His features were covered in a 
subtle shock, much like that of an uncomprehending deer caught in the 
headlights of a semi-truck, only dumbed down to fit
Mulder's usually expressionless features.
     For a long time he was silent, and Scully didn't have the strength of 
heart to ask for a reply of some sort. "Gee, Scully, you've sure got great 
timing." His tone was light, but his eyes were dark. He turned away from 
her, still sitting on the couch, and stared at the wall with an almost 
fierce lack of expression.
     After another full minute of tense silence, Scully's impatience 
manifested itself enough to force words out of her mouth. "It's been eight 
years, Mulder. Don't you feel anything?" Her words were weak and she loathed 
the small voice that spoke them. He stood and walked
across the room before facing her.
     "I did." His eyes raked over her defeated form for a long time, 
calculating, trying to get inside. She wanted them to leave her alone and 
let his voice get the whole thing over with. "Scully, eight years is a long 
time to wait."
     A sickening feeling grew and pulsated in her abdomen. She could feel 
the bile rising in her throat.
     "You told me once that you loved me." Shouldn't her voice have gotten 
stronger with use? Instead, every time she spoke it seemed to retreat 
further and further back into the cave of her throat.
     "A year ago, Scully. That was before I met Sam." His voice speaking 
that name with affection that was never absent whatever the situation made 
her stomach twist once more. She remembered when he'd spoken hers that way. 
"Before you said no."
     The fronts of her eyes burned as the tears shifted and began to swell.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     She'd stayed the night at his apartment to comfort him after his 
mother's death. Now she came back, days later, to offer the same comfort for 
a different heartache.
     His sister's death was a new wound built off of the old one that had 
never healed in almost 30 years. His proclamation of freedom on that warm 
night in California had marked the end of the pain he'd lived with since the 
age of 12, but had unleashed some other emotion
that now filled him with grief despite the assurance that Samantha would 
never be in pain. He'd always thought that he would see her again; that he 
would find her one day, a grown woman who still needed him regardless of the 
years apart.
     Scully understood this. The pain she experienced over Melissa's death 
was newer than Mulder's in some respects, but she had had years to deal with 
the actual knowledge that her sister would never again be in her presence 
except in spirit. Mulder had now had two days.
     He'd called her cell phone as she left work. He was at home, taking a 
few days of personal leave to deal with recent events. He wanted her to come 
over. She'd known instantly that what he sought was not merely company, but 
the same emotional release he had experienced before. He needed to share his 
mourning.
     Four hours after she'd arrived, it happened. He broke into another 
crying fit, as he'd been doing off and on for the past week, and she'd 
wrapped her arms around him dutifully as he pressed his needy face into her 
shoulder. She did feel for him. She'd even cried several times herself out 
of sympathy. But Scully had never been one for exhaustive shows of emotion 
and she was still having trouble dealing with this extreme overload.
     After several minutes, the tears subsided and he turned his head to 
rest his face against her neck. "Scully?" he whispered in a voice that would 
have been barely audible if not for the close proximity of his mouth to her 
ear.
     "What is it?" she asked, running her hand over the back of his neck 
lightly in a gesture she'd found comforted him.
     It took him several seconds to respond, and when he did, the words were 
so soft against the tender skin of her neck that they sent a small shiver 
traveling through her entire body. "I love you."
     "Mulder..." Her voice was doubtful and he quickly cut it off by sitting 
up and looking her straight in the face.
     "No, Scully, just listen to me." He made sure that she was staring 
directly into his eyes and put on the most serious expression he could 
muster. "I'm telling you that I love you." The last two words were 
emphasized as though spoken to a three-year-old.
     She closed her eyes as the anxiety built up in her abdomen and a wave 
of nausea flooded through her system. "No you don't, Mulder. This is just an 
emotional time for you and you need someone to hold on to. And I'm here and 
your emotions are all mixed up, and... and I
understand that. I do. But don't start saying things like that at a time 
like this."
     He grabbed her shoulders lightly as though he were about to shake her, 
but they didn't move. "Look at me, Scully." She did. "It is an emotional 
time for me. That may very well be why I have the courage to say this to you 
right now. But I have known this for a very long time."
     Scully shook her head. "No, Mulder. You may think you do. Maybe you're 
attracted to me and you've convinced yourself you love me because I'm the 
only one around, but that's all it is. It happens. Don't make that mistake 
and end up saying something that you'll regret later."
     He let his eyes scan her face repeatedly, waiting for something to 
give, willing that calm little façade to snap. "I've already said it, 
Scully, and there are no regrets yet." She didn't respond, just let her head 
drop a little more as his hands continued to hold her
shoulders in place. "What would you say if you knew that I loved you?"
     "You don't, Mulder." Her voice was firm but tired.
     "What would you say if I did?" His response was so immediate that it 
almost overlapped her voice.
     Scully took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling for a while, as 
if her answer was written there. Mulder waited with a patience that he 
hadn't known he possessed.
     "I would say," she began, looking him square in the eyes, "that I love 
you too. As a friend," she quickly amended. "I would say that while I'll 
always be there for you, and I'll always care about you more than you can 
ever know, we're just not meant to be together in
that way. We never have been. That you are the most important person in my 
life, and that because of that, there is nothing on this earth worth losing 
our friendship over." She smiled a little. "I would also point out that it's 
foolish to say things like that when I know that
tall, brunette, and baring more than a slight resemblance to a female deer 
is more your type."
     He couldn't bring himself to smile back at her. Instead he just stared 
at her face for longer than she felt comfortable, trying desperately to find 
any hint that she didn't believe in what she was saying. There was nothing 
there but sadness-sympathy for him, not empathy.
     Two weeks later, he'd met a brilliant 5'11" doe with a great sense of 
humor and a faint British lilt, and Scully had begun to regret every word 
she'd spoken that night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     "You told me once that you loved me." Mulder stared at Scully's small 
form as it sunk into the couch, defeated. Seeing her this way nearly tore 
him in two, but he had no idea how to fix it. There was no way to fix what 
was happening now.
     "A year ago, Scully." Hidden beneath his words was a question that he 
couldn't ask, it's implications too shattering to the small happiness he had 
finally been able to find in his life. //Why couldn't you have loved me 
then?// "That was before I met Sam." He took a deep breath to prepare 
himself for the vocalization of the real reason they were stuck in the 
present situation. "Before you said no."
     He heard the sharp intake of breath and watched as Scully's eyes 
shifted suddenly, a sure sign that she was on the verge of unwanted tears. 
"Yeah, well, it certainly didn't take you long to get over that little blow, 
did it?"
     Her words were like ice. He wasn't sure if he wanted to comfort her or 
throw something at her. Rather than either, he simply became defensive. 
"What's that supposed to mean?"
     Her bloodshot eyes turned upward to stab him with a cold glare. She 
clung to the anger to suppress the hurt. "Two weeks. Two *weeks* later you 
were seeing her. What do you think it's supposed to mean?"
     "I was only *seeing* her to get over you," he blurted out before he 
could censor himself. His emotions were mirroring hers. Her anger stirred an 
equal rage within him and the words tumbled out like daggers. "I was in love 
with you for *years*, Scully. Do you have any idea how long a year is when 
you work beside someone every day that you want unbearably, but know you 
can't have?" She looked away from him deliberately, but he knew it was only 
out of the inability to face what he was saying. He crossed the room to be 
closer to her, but remained standing. "If I had seen one *shred* of doubt in 
your eyes that night, I swear I could have held on longer. But you were so 
goddamned sure of yourself, like always." At that, she stood
from the couch and crossed the room away from him. He continued to follow 
her, knowing that when Scully was angry or hurt her personal space bubble 
multiplied by three and deliberately invading that space just to irritate 
her. "You know how I met Sam?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I was at a 
bar for the fifth time that week. She'd been there every time and each night 
she tried to start a conversation with me. Sitting there that fifth night, 
staring at
this beautiful woman who actually seemed to care what the hell was wrong 
with me, I realized something, Scully. I thought to myself, 'What the hell 
am I doing, beating myself up over this? Why the fuck am I sitting here and 
not even speaking to this woman out of some sort of respect or misguided 
loyalty to someone who has made it perfectly clear that there is no chance 
in hell for us to be together?'"
     Scully's back was turned to him as she faced the corner of the room, 
but he could hear the small gasps of air and see the little leaps of her 
shoulders that told him exactly how she was handling his words. He 
remembered loving this woman. In truth, he didn't think the
feeling had ever gone away, it had just been shoved into the back of his 
mind forcefully and locked up tight in a little cage that had no key. If he 
hadn't made himself forget it and distracted himself with Sam, he was sure 
it never would have left him, but eventually distraction had turned into 
something more and now he felt for his fiancé something very close to what 
he had felt for Scully all those years. Perhaps less passionate, maybe a 
little more 'easy', but nonetheless, it was the only feeling he could find 
in himself anymore, and she was the center of it. Samantha. Maybe Scully had 
been the 'love of his life', but Sam was a damned good second, and Scully 
was gone as far as he was concerned.
     "Mulder?" The small voice that emanated from a place inside her she 
rarely exposed almost shattered his soul, but he continued to stand his 
ground.
     "What?"
     She remained facing the corner of the room, her head tilted down as 
though she had nothing left in the world, but her words had the power to 
bring moisture to his eyes. "If I had told you the truth that night, do you 
think it could ever have worked out?"
     "The truth?"
     He watched her auburn hair move gently as she nodded. "I didn't want 
you to love me because I valued what we had. I didn't want to love you. I 
still don't, but I figured that this was my last chance."
     His throat was dry and the combination of tears and fear at what she 
might say made it hard to speak his next words. "Last chance for what?"
     "To see if you could forgive me for lying." She turned her head in 
profile to him, her eyes downcast. "To know if you could still love me."
     He felt his knees begin to give out and sat down on the couch before he 
fell. Feelings were being dredged up from within him that he hadn't allowed 
himself even to dream of for almost a year. He wanted to erase whatever had 
led to this. He just wasn't sure whether it was Scully or Samantha he wanted 
to wipe from the equation.
     Scully turned around slowly to look at him. There were still tears 
streaming down her face. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her midsection 
in a gesture that probably started out as defensive and had since become a 
hollow effort to console herself. "I'm sorry," she finally blurted out. 
Looking at Mulder she was met only with an uncomprehending stare from 
tear-stained eyes that mirrored her own. "I have no right to dump this on 
you now. I should be happy for you." Nothing in her face gave credit to her 
words. Her eyes darted around the room as if following a pinball. "I mean 
that, Mulder." Her voice was broken by the tears that began to pour out of 
her in little bursts once more. He felt like his heart was being torn out 
with each drop of liquid to leave her eyes. "Samantha..." She had to look 
upward and blink repeatedly to control it now. "She's amazing. And she's 
good for you." Mulder could see the tendons in her neck now as she bit into 
her lip fiercely to control the sobs and tears continued
to pour down her cheeks sin little rivulets. "I don't even know why I 
brought it up." She was headed for the door before Mulder knew what was 
happening. He leapt from the couch and grabbed her arm just as her hand 
reached the knob. He didn't know what he had to say. All he knew was that he 
had to stop her.
     "Scully, please..." The eyes she looked into when she turned to see him 
were filled with pain and anguish, but she could no longer discern what went 
on behind them as she had once been able to.
     "Mulder, what more is there to say?"
     He searched her face for words that he could speak, but all he saw in 
those painful blue orbs were words that he couldn't ever say again. "I'll 
never stop loving you."
     Her eyelids fell heavily against her cheek and her jaw clenched in 
pain. "But not as much as her." It was not a question, yet he could still 
see the hope hidden deep within her eyes. He hated himself for having to 
squander it.
     His head nodded silently as the tears finally overflowed, and she was 
gone.
     His life was complete.


End.

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happen to enjoy torturing yourself with crap), all my other fanfic can be 
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