Date sent: Fri, 05 Jun 1998 00:45:09 -0400 Subject: EP Levatio 1/1
TITLE:Levatio AUTHOR:Katie Taylor EMAIL ADDRESS: FINISHED: April 17, 1998 DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:Anywhere, just tell me!
SPOILER WARNING: Gethsemane/Redux/2 RATING: PG CONTENT WARNING: MSR/Angst CLASSIFICATION: S/RA SUMMARY: Is there any reason to live?
Record breaking Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Author's notes: Levatio is a Latin word meaning relief'.
Thanks as always to my editors: Regina Harter, StevieAnn I'll miss all your ideas!, Levatio by Katie Taylor
Mulder sat on his leather couch in the darkened living room, with his gun in his hand. If he had any balls, it would have been over already. He would be lying on the floor in front of his door with a hole in his head, because if he had any courage, he would have shut the door and put a bullet in his brain before he reached his living room. Instead, he was sitting on the couch, toying with the gun, scared shitless of the idea of pulling the trigger and ending his sorry excuse for a life.
He should have done it a long time ago, maybe even 20 odd years ago when he had first thought about it. There had always been something holding him back, though, something he could use as an excuse instead of facing the fact that he was just a coward. First there had been his mother, he needed to take care of her. Fairly soon it became obvious that the earth could have swallowed him up in front of her eyes and she wouldn't have noticed. Any warm body who would hold her hand and bring her food would have done to take care of her. Even after she came out of whatever fog she had been living in enough to get dressed and go out and operate like a real person, he knew she couldn't really see him. Then had come the idea that Samantha needed him to find her. That one lasted almost 25 years. When Samantha had made it clear that she was as found as she wanted to be, he still couldn't do it because he believed Scully loved him and she would be upset if he died, but now he knew that she didn't care about him, and there were no excuses left.
So what was holding him back? One word-cowardice.
Perhaps, a little voice whispered to him, Scully really did love him, but she had decided to hide her feelings for some reason. He chose to ignore it, he didn't want to think right now. All he wanted to do was act. To end the pain and suffering and guilt that he had wanted to be free of for -how many years now? How many decades? Two and a half decades. Twenty five years. That's how long he had been carrying this. At first when he had wanted to die, he thought that maybe it was just the shock of losing Sam. That the feelings would wear off. But they hadn't. It had only gotten worse. How long was a person expected to suffer before they were allowed to just let it all go? How long was he expected to live until he was allowed to let go? How lonely did he have to be to realize he was alone? How many times did he have to be rejected, or screw up and get someone he loved in trouble, to realized how worthless he was? How many people had to tell him they didn't love him before he realized that perhaps he wasn't worthy of love. Or maybe not even capable of love. Perhaps all he felt towards Scully was lust. Could that be it? Was everything had had felt for her for five years simply a longing to get in her pants?
Everyone in his life that he had ever cared about had left him. Samantha had been taken. (Or maybe he really had killed her?) His mother had hidden herself away. His father had told him over and over what a disappointment he was. Phoebe had left him. Probably never even loved him-just led him along the garden path, just waiting for an opportunity push him off. And Scully didn't love him. Now that he knew this, it was like she had left him too, though it was only his own self-delusion that made it seem that way
He loved Scully and he only wanted what was best for her. That would be for him to not be around. With him out of the picture, she could move ahead with her career. She wouldn't be stuck in the basement as one of the FBI's most unwanted. She could even resolve the rift that had grown between herself and her family and friends since she started working with him.
The only way to accomplish that was to kill himself. Or get himself killed. But that took planning, and a case-neither of which he was particularly up for tonight. He drew the gun up to his temple.
XxXxXxX
Scully was still a little shocked by what had transpired earlier that night. God, what had she done? What had just happened here? Mulder's actions had left her in a state of complete confusion. She replayed the conversation again in her mind, hoping that the words would make sense after hearing them for the hundredth time.
She had answered the knock at her door to find Mulder on the other side. He was staring at the ground, and shifting his weight from foot to foot. He was nervous about something. She invited him in and, after a moments hesitation, he entered her apartment and sat on her couch.
"What's wrong, Mulder?" she had asked. He had closed his eyes as if gathering his thoughts. When he opened them, he had looked straight into hers. She had been certain he was looking straight into her soul.
"I love you." He loved her? Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme. For a moment, Dana Katherine Scully was the happiest woman on the planet, or in the universe, if she believed in the existence of extraterrestrials. But then cold harsh reality reared it's ugly head. They were partners, and although she wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him she loved him, too-what about the X-Files? If they admitted their feelings for each other, would the partnership suffer? Would they be too focused on each other to focus on their cases? Should she simply try and convince herself it was a dream?
"And I need to know-Do you love me, too?" That was the moment of truth. Dana had had about two seconds to decided the course of their lives. She looked into his eyes.
"No, Mulder, I'm sorry, but I don't. Not like that. I mean, I do love you," there, that cleared her conscience of lying to him, "but I love you as my best friend." And that was the truth-just not the whole truth. And she had to keep being the sensible one in their partnership-even if she was sure it was going to kill her.
She had met mothmen, lived through Pfaster and Duane Barry. She'd beaten cancer. Met every form of human mutation known-and not known-to man. She'd fought against alien/human hybrids, played mind games with serial killers, and gone up against the Consortium. She'd gone through all that and more, but what she saw next had frightened her more than any of those.
Mulder looked relieved.
At first she was angry. He comes in here, tells me he loves me, possibly ruining our partnership, and then looks relieved when I tell him I don't feel the same way? What the hell's with that? Then she was concerned. What the hell is going on in his mind that he would look relieved that I didn't love him? What is he thinking?
Then he'd gotten up off the couch, said good-bye and left her apartment before she could say another word.
Dana had to see him again. She had to know what was going on. Why was he relieved? Her mind ran through various scenarios on her way to Mulder's apartment. Perhaps he didn't really love her. He just said that because he thought it was what she wanted to hear, but he didn't really mean it, and he was relieved that she didn't have any feelings for him. Yeah, right. Whatever. Maybe he was relieved because if she didn't feel the same way, their partnership wouldn't suffer. Possibly he just needed her to know how he felt, but didn't want to get involved because of their work and since she didn't feel the same way, they wouldn't have to worry. Could it be that he had seen right through her when she told him she didn't love him, and he was relieved to know she did?
XxXxXxX
He'd thought about leaving a note for somebody-anybody. But who? Scully? No, she probably wouldn't need or want that. She'd just be happy to leave the X-Files and go along her merry way. The little voice inside his head neglected to point out all the times-countless times--she'd risked her career and her life for him. Indecision struck again as he felt the cool metal against his temple. Coward! The voice screamed at him. She'll be better off without you!
He slowly started to pull the trigger.
XxXxXxX
Scully walked up to the door marked #42 and took a deep breath as she knocked on the door. After a few tries, she decided that Mulder wasn't home, but that he wouldn't mind if she let herself in to wait for him. After all, they had something important to talk about. She found his key and started to unlock his door. Scully was slightly concerned when she found it already unlocked. Then she was terrified when she heard an animal-like scream coming from Mulder's living room.
"Mulder!" She ran the few feet into the room to find Mulder alone, and in time to see him pull the gun away from his temple and hurl it across the room.
"I'm a Fucking chicken shit!" Suddenly he stood up and turned around, coming face to face with her. "Scully?" All she could do was stare at him for a few moments, totally horrified by what she had just witnessed. Mulder turned away, embarrassed that she had seen him.
"Mulder?" She tried to reach out to him, but he spun around and blocked her hand. "What's wrong?" What's wrong? The man you love almost killed himself and the best you can come up with is what's wrong?'
"I'm a fucking coward, that's what's wrong."
"What are you talking about?" He didn't answer. "Mulder," she started again, sitting down on his couch, "How many times have you done this?" He looked at her with anger and confusion in his eyes. "How many times have you held a gun to your head." She knew it couldn't be a question of whether he'd ever done it before.
He let out a small laugh. "I think, Scully, that I lost track quite a few years ago." He still wouldn't sit down, and Scully could only look at him in complete surprise. She hadn't expected quite that answer. She knew that, because of the way he was, the number would be high-she could think of numerous times in just the five years she had known him that he had probably thought about it. She had to know-after so many years, why he hadn't done it-although she was eternally grateful he never had.
"There's was always someone that I would leave behind. At first there was my mom-I couldn't really leave her alone after she had just lost her daughter. But that didn't really last long. Then it was Samantha-I had to find her. You know how long that lasted." Finally, he moved to sit on the couch, although he stayed as far away from her as it would allow. "Then there was you." Mulder got back up again. "Now-now there's no one."
Scully was astonished. Then she was angry. "You mean to tell me that you came home and you were going to kill yourself because I said I didn't love you?!"
"No! Well, actually, I suppose so. But that's not the whole reason." Why did she care, anyway? "All these years, Samantha and you were the only things keeping me going-literally. And it wasn't necessarily because I wanted to be with you, although I did. It was because I thought you needed me. Because Samantha needed to be found. Because, I guess selfishly, I thought that I would hurt you by taking my own life."
"Well, Mulder, there's no need to do me any favors." Her anger began to subside.
"Yeah, well, obviously I was wrong."
"So, then, what made you stop?"
He looked away from her for a moment. "All these years, I've had these reasons', but they were all just excuses to cover up the real reason. I'm just a coward."
Scully couldn't help but smile at that. "Mulder, you are the farthest thing from a coward that I can imagine. And just because I told you I have no burning desire to jump into bed with you, that doesn't mean that I wouldn't be upset at your death. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that." Mulder shrugged, but still wouldn't turn to look at her.
Scully thought for a moment about how to phrase her next statement. "You are the most important person in my life right now. I do need you, Mulder, more than I can ever tell you." Boy, isn't that the truth, she thought. "Please, please believe that I would be devastated if you died. Promise me that you'll come tell me if you feel like this again."
Mulder sighed, then nodded, and they shared a comfortable silence for several minutes.
"Mulder?"
"Mmm?"
"You want a drink or something? I could sure use one."
"Uh, yeah, sure Scully." She got up to fix them some drinks. When she reached the kitchen, she looked back and found that Mulder had leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry I lied to you, Mulder," she whispered to herself.
Ende.
JFW Mulder