feedback:
tlynnfic [at] gmail.com
Author: TLynn
E-Mail: fallingsky@comcast.net
Feedback: Always welcome and appreciated more than you know
Distribution: Also welcomed -- just let me know so I can visit
Rating: PG-13
Category: MSR, angst, AU
Spoilers: 'Requiem'
Summary: What if it went a different way?
Disclaimer: They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, Fox, and the
disgustingly talented actors who portray them, not me.
Thanks: To my beta, Carol, for always catching the little
mistakes as well as the big ones. What, me proofread? ;)
And to Circe for housing my fic and for making the most
beautiful graphics to accompany them.
Author's notes: This is the fifth and final installment of
a series of vignettes that explore the complicated progress
of a physical relationship between Mulder and Scully. The
goal was this: though each has a little something to do
with the previous, they are near-standalones and can be
read independently of each other if you so choose. So was
this a WIP? That's your call; I made no promises. <g>
You can find the previous installments here:
Perfectly Flawed
Second Beginning
In The Clear
Ecstatic
More notes at end.
* * *
"It's not worth it, Scully."
"What?"
"I want you to go home."
"Oh, Mulder," she responded with a half-smile. "I'm going
to be fine."
"No, I've been thinking about it," he said. "Looking at you
today holding that baby, knowing everything that's been
taken away from you; a chance for motherhood and your
health. And that made me...think that...maybe they're
right."
"Who's right?"
"The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the
wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high."
Unbidden, tears began to sting her eyes. His warmth had
begun to seep into her now and combined with his words,
created a space around them like none before.
"There's so much more you need to do with your life.
There's so much more than this."
His hand passed over her face in a single caress and his
voice was whisper.
"There has to be an end, Scully."
He lips pressed against her cheek, his head settled atop
her shoulder and even as she held his hand to her face, she
couldn't suppress the sense of incredulity bubbling up from
within. She allowed herself a moment more to take in his
presence, to enjoy the simplicity of his body around hers,
offering support. It would have been easy to stay there,
easy to acquiesce, to silently agree with his conclusions;
she was rattled by her sudden malaise and her body was
heavy with fatigue.
But she couldn't ignore his words.
She silently moved away from him, out from under the covers
until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned
her head to look back at him and his expression, though
expectant, held no trace of realization.
She huffed a small laugh and shook her head.
"And end to what?" she asked.
He stared at her, brows furrowed in slight confusion.
"To the monopolization of your life, Scully," he finally
said. "Before it's too late for you--"
She laughed again, stopping his answer short. She stood
then and he moved to follow, but she held out her hand,
stopping him again. He settled back down and watched as she
paced a few steps back and forth, collecting her thoughts.
She finally turned to him again, her hands wrapped around
her middle. Whether that was in defense or in ailment, he
couldn't tell.
"What more is there?" she asked, the question clearly
rhetorical. "What more do *you* think I should be doing? I
never thought I'd have to defend my choices to you, Mulder.
To my family, yes, but never to you."
"I just--"
"No," she interrupted. Her body shook with a deep
inhalation of breath and she exhaled slowly, calming her
nerves. "No. How dare you. Yes, terrible things have
happened to me and to my family as a result of my being
with the FBI, of being apart of the X Files division. But
because of those same circumstances I have a real chance at
making those responsible pay for their actions. I have the
chance to expose them for who they are and what they've
done. It isn't an easy justice and it isn't a swift one,
but it's more than I'd be able to do in any other position.
"Yes, there was a time when I wanted more, when the
prospect of a home and a family of my own wasn't a far off
notion. But things have changed, as they always do. I could
never go off and pretend that I haven't seen or done the
things I have, couldn't make some lame attempt at
reclaiming a life others think I should have."
Her eyes never left his as she spoke, her voice never rose,
and her resolve never faltered. Anger wasn't what radiated
from her words or posture, but rather weariness and hurt;
he recognized it immediately.
"And I certainly couldn't do it without you," she finished.
He rose then and moved until he stood in front of her. Her
arms remained clasped around herself, her defenses up, and
he winced inwardly. He lifted a hand and placed in on her
shoulder, gently pulling her towards him. Her head fell
forward and she allowed his embrace, but it lasted only a
beat. She stepped back from him quickly and moved to the
door as she spoke again.
"Part of me will always mourn the loss of that dream and I
will *always* mourn the loss of a chance at motherhood, but
my life isn't empty or meaningless without those things.
This is it, Mulder. This is my life. There is nothing else,
not in my mind. I would never dream of asking or telling
you to stop your pursuit of the truth and I resent that
you're doing just that of me. This is what I chose and what
I still choose. This is where I belong. I thought you, of
all people, would understand that by now. More than that, I
thought you would be the one to respect it."
"Scully, wait," he said as she opened the door, ushering in
the cold night air. "Please don't walk away right now."
"I'm tired, Mulder," she said. "I'm just...tired."
He stood, words escaping him, and just watched as she
closed the door and left him alone.
* * *
Her senses were alert as soon as she heard the footfall on
her porch and she recognized his lean silhouette through
the curtains immediately. He picked her lock easily and
stepped into her room, blaming any guilt he felt over
forced entry on the motel's lack of adjoining rooms.
He came to her in the shroud of darkness, his steps silent
as he tiptoed, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.
The bed dipped as he carefully lay down behind her and the
familiar warmth of his body pressed against her back. He
wrapped an arm around her, recreating their position from
his room just hours ago, and she sank further into him.
His voice above her ear was hushed to a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
She turned until she was facing him, her arms snaking out
from under the blankets to curve around him in a tight
embrace. She felt his body sigh.
"You should be," she mumbled into his neck.
He chuckled softly against her. It wasn't until the rhythm
of her breathing changed, deepening as she balanced on the
edge of sleep, that he uttered her name.
"Scully?"
"Hmmm?"
"This is where *I* belong."
* * *
His words still echoed in her mind two days later as he
prepared to leave her behind. As an abductee, she knew the
risk of once again entering into that Oregon forest, but
fatigue wracked her body and hindered any lingering desire
she might have had to follow him this time.
But something else pulled at her and she felt her composure
crumbling as she embraced him. She couldn't -- she wouldn't
-- ask him to stay, certainly not after her speech in
Bellefleur, but she was baffled by the overwhelming desire
she felt to do so anyway. She felt him slipping away even
as she held him in her arms and it visibly shook her to her
core.
"You need to see a doctor," he said, pulling away to take
in her trembling body.
She stepped back and shook her head.
"I'm fine, Mulder," she said automatically.
He studied her, scarcely believing it was only days ago
that they huddled together in his bed, confessions of
happiness replacing those of hardship and despair. He'd
hoped it was a sign of things to come, a confirmation of
their strength as a pair and of their fortitude to prevail
against those who sought to harm them, those who dared to
rip them apart.
"Scully..." he pleaded softly, taking one of her hands in
his.
Her nod was curt and she stepped back from him as Skinner
stepped out into the hallway, his forehead wrinkled in
concern.
"Everything okay out here, Agents?"
"Yes, we're fine," she assured him.
Her attention returned to Mulder, to his expectant stare,
and she nodded again, slowly this time, not sure whom it
was between them she was trying to convince. His eyes
lingered on her for a moment before turning to Skinner.
"I'm going to Oregon," he said. "Today."
"And you're going with him, Sir," Scully announced.
* * *
He couldn't explain the sense of foreboding, couldn't
understand why it was so intense. Standing in Skinner's
office, he was compelled to return to the woods, to see,
once and for all, real and true evidence of his life's
work. Nothing was going to stop him; his mind reeled with
the implications, his body buzzed with anticipation.
But something wasn't right. With each passing second, his
anxiety increased. Skinner sat next to him on the plane,
oblivious to the racing of his heart and the sweat of his
palms; perhaps he mistook the shake of Mulder's knee to be
impatience or excitement.
The captain announced the plane's descent. Mulder's pulse
pounded in his ears.
*Something wasn't right*.
Scully.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning and sucked the air from
his lungs, leaving him gasping for air.
"Mulder?" Skinner's baritone sounded next to him. "Are you
okay?"
"Scully," he whispered. "I have to get back to Scully."
"What are you talking about?" Skinner asked, confused.
"We're about to land."
"Something's wrong," Mulder said.
It was all he could offer by way of explanation. It was all
he knew.
* * *
Only the small beside lamp was switched on, creating more
shadows than light across the expanse of her room at the
North Georgetown Medical Center. He entered slowly,
quietly, and saw her under the bed's covers, lying on her
side, her back to him. She didn't move, even as he perched
next to her, his mind still reeling from the doctor's
words.
"She had a miscarriage," he had said. "I'm very sorry for
your loss."
The implications were too numerous and he had walked, numb,
in the direction the nurse had pointed.
"How?"
Her voice, though near a whisper, made him jump. When he
didn't answer, she turned over until she faced him and his
heart broke at the turmoil in her eyes.
"How, Mulder?" she asked again, her voice breaking. "How
did this happen?"
She hadn't cried when she heard the news. In fact, she
didn't believe them at all. 'Impossible,' she'd said,
despite the cramping and bleeding. They'd started as she
woke up after having collapsed in Skinner's office, perhaps
even before, and somewhere deep inside, she had known the
only thing that could have been the cause. And now, as he
gathered her in his arms, she allowed herself to mourn the
loss of something she didn't even know she had. Her body
heaved with each sob, her arms clutching at Mulder with all
the strength she had.
Several long minutes passed before she lifted her head from
his chest.
"You're here," she said, eyes red, tears streaking down her
face.
"I'm here," he said.
"But..."
He shook his head. "This is where I need to be. The rest
can wait."
His face mirrored her own, the imaginings of a life once
out of reach cycling with the realities of the night.
"I wish I had known," she said.
"I know," he said. "I know..."
"What does this mean?"
He gave her the only answer he could.
"I don't know, Scully, but we'll find out."
* * *
end
End notes: THERE! Mulder doesn't get abducted, Scully
doesn't have to bury him, Mulder doesn't ever have to
wonder where he belongs in her life when he comes back, and
the X-Files can continue sans baby, but with the idea that
maybe, just maybe, it's not out of the question for them to
have a child at some point in the future.
I know *I* feel better. <g>
Now, I'm a purist, not usually one to deviate from canon in
my writing or my reading. I actually quite enjoyed much of
the angst brought to us with seasons 8 and 9. What can I
say? I'm an angst whore. But even the best misery can wear
at a girl. Why you gotta hurt my Mulder and Scully so much,
Mr. Carter?
So maybe this could have happened instead. Why not?
Thanks for reading, everyone.
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