SATURDAY

4 P.M.

It's starting to get cold. I told Mom we should go soon, and she's trying to convince Charlie of the same, but he likes it out here, regardless of the rather ominous clouds on the horizon.

I haven't seen Charlie for over a year, but oddly, things are the same between us as they've always been. He always knows exactly how far to push me, then he'll draw back, do something cute, and I'll forgive him. Trick is, he never pushes beyond that point.

Funny that my silly, less than brilliant brother can figure out something that Fox Mulder, Ph.D. has yet to understand.

Mom hasn't told him about the cancer yet. She says she's waiting for the "appropriate" time. Without the kids around. He'll take it better than Mom did, I think. We'll see.

I'm rumaging through the back of Charlie's car, hunting for a black pullover sweater that I know is in there somewhere, buried under jump ropes, GameBoys and little kid shoes. Finding it, I pull it on over my

black flowered summer dress. Summer, my ass, it's getting COLD.

I'm sitting in the car, ignoring the fact that my Mom probably would appreciate it if I would help round up the kids.

I'm waiting for something, I realize. I'm waiting for the confrontation that Mulder and I haven't had yet.

I requested a transfer last week while Mulder was still in the hospital. After he tried to kill me.

Actually, that wasn't even the worst of it. The memory of that night haunts me. He ditched me. He managed to alienate his mother again in two seconds flat. She wouldn't even tell me anything, she just stomped

upstairs and slammed her door. How Mulder of her. The worst was that then he *willingly* submitted himself to the "treatment" that caused this entire mess in the first place and ended up nearly killing himself.

Then he pointed that fucking gun at me.

And afterwards, when I saw him curled up on the floor, while part of me was kind, and went to hold him, half of me screamed *get out.* *Run as fast as you can and don't look back.**The abyss awaits you if you stay.*

I typed up the request form and took it up to Skinner that next day. And he got the oddest look on his face, almost a twisted, restrained smile, and it didn't make any sense until he said, "I was wondering what it would finally take."

And he signed it, almost with a flourish.

I must have looked a bit astonished because he continued, "I'm sorry it had to go this far before you chose to take care of *yourself.*"

Numb, I answered mechanically. "Thank you, sir."

And that was that.

I told him while he was still unconscious. I'm sure he didn't hear me. But it was as close as I could get to telling him to his face. I called his mother and let her know his condition. She said she would come immediately. Strange how she really does love him, but can't give him what he needs for peace. Maybe I'm making assumptions. Maybe the truth is worse than not knowing.

I wonder what will go through his mind when he wakes up and sees his mother instead of me. He'll probably think I'm dead. After all, I've followed him everywhere, haven't I? Death would be the only acceptable excuse for not being at his side, regardless of how he's treated me. The topper will be he probably won't even remember that he almost killed us both. Again.

I don't care. Or at least, I'm trying not to care. Remembering the awful things helps convince me that I made the right decision. Mom is thrilled that I'm going back to teaching at Quantico in the fall. For now, once I

finish my final reports and my exit interview, I'll be happy to have this time off this summer. I can't remember the last time I actually took a vacation.

Skinner positively beamed when I told him I wanted not to work for a few months.

The park is emptying out. Parents and their kids and their dogs are piling into vehicles and running away. I'm glad I drove here separately. I kind of want to just go straight home and drink myself to sleep.

Mom and Charlie finally get towards the car. The kids rush me and we get all tangled up in the back seat (where I've been sitting for almost half an hour) and I love it. We're all giggling. It reminds me of what I want. And then, suddenly, it reminds me that I can never have it.

I have to push past them a bit roughly to get out, and I'm halfway across the parking lot to my own car before I hear Mom behind me.

"Sweetie?"

"I'm okay, Mom. I just... remember sometimes."

She is almost near tears herself. But we hold it. Now is not the time. Then Mom looks positively vicious all of a sudden, like a dog at the front gate, eyeing a stranger. I follow her line of view.

Mulder is standing next to my car.

Mom looks ready to pounce.

I'm astonished, I almost don't stop her, but then, I did know this would happen. He would find me eventually.

"Mom. Mom." I repeat it until she looks at me. "I need to talk to him. It's okay. Go home."

"Dana -"

"He won't hurt me. I won't let him."

She is reluctant, but giving in. "You call me the instant you get home, do you understand?"

"I promise."

She flashes one more venomous glare at him, then walks away towards Charlie. Charlie, who has also been staring, trying to be casual, but fully ready to rush into the situation. When he sees Mom leave, he relaxes his posture.

I wait until they drive away before approaching Mulder.

He's dressed casually, jeans and his black sweater and leather coat. He still has a scab on his forehead, right at the hairline. Other than that, he looks okay.

I stop a couple feet from him, showing him that I'm not afraid of him, and I wait for him to speak.

We stare at each other for a few moments. I can't figure him out. For once, his eyes are shielded.

"I'm sorry," he says. He so clearly doesn't mean it that I almost laugh.

"Apology accepted," I answer. This confuses him. He knows it won't be that easy.

"I never... I would never hurt you, Scully." This seems more sincere, but he doesn't realize that this is also a lie.

"While you may think that, Mulder, it's not true. You've already hurt me. A million times over. And I can barely forgive myself for staying with you as long as I have," I reply. This is what he needs to understand, if

nothing else.

He is irritated. He scuffs his feet on the pavement. Shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Scully. I would never intentionally hurt you. You've got to know that."

"Mulder, you may not strike me, or shoot me. But you've been shoving daggers into my heart from the beginning. And I probably could have gone on accepting it if you hadn't done one thing," I said matter-of-factly.

He looks at to me to continue.

"You're destroying yourself. You won't let me help you. You don't believe I have your best interests at heart. You think I couldn't possibly understand what is happening to you. You disregard me. You resent me. But

you still use me. You want me to help you destroy yourself. And I refuse."

He's so angry. I can feel it. And my lack of discernible emotion is making it worse. But if he'd just look a little harder, he'd see my heart breaking over what he has become. And that's the whole point. He can't be bothered to look any harder.

"I'm trying to find out the truth. About what happened in my family. And if you believe in me, then you'll help me," he answered, clearly trying to control the volume of his voice, as though it might burst the bounds of his vocal chords on its own.

"The ends don't justify the means here."

He's boiling, and that rather self-righteous comment sends him over. I knew it would as soon as I said it, but there's not much I can do about it now.

He shoves his face down into mine, but I knew he would, so I don't look away. He's hissing at me.

"How dare you sermonize to me? How can you stand there and act like none of this matters, as though it were some executive decision? Who are you to judge how I find my truth? It's my life!"

"It's my life, too, Mulder!" I hiss back at him. I want to shame him into recognition. "You've been leading me around for four years now, and I willingly followed while I thought you were still on the right side of the darkness. While the quest had virtue. But you've allowed them to sully it. You're playing by their rules and you don't even recognize what it's doing to you! You don't see what you're asking me to do! I won't follow you there - I can't," I say, my voice normalizing at the end. I told him some of this while he was unconscious and now I've had time to think about it. I was prepared to tell him all this.

Yet I'm still on the verge of tears. Strangely, so is he. I'm breaking his heart, somehow. But I can't figure it out. He so rarely lets me see the reasons.

"But Scully -" His voice catches oddly. "If you care, if you care, you won't leave me," he says roughly.

Oh, God. I've got to be careful.

"Mulder... I do care. I care more than you know. So much so that it is killing me to see you do this to yourself. And I CANNOT assist you in your own narcissistic self-destruction. I will not help you hurt yourself. Precisely because I *do* care."

It hurts him to hear it, but he isn't arguing with me. Now I can make my final point, and it will be over. Over. And I will hide for three months and recover from what I've done.

"But I also care about *me.* I couldn't live with myself if I allow you to treat me like a... like a dog." It is a harsh term, and he recoils from it visibly, scrunching up his nose in disgust. But he knows it's true. I hope, perversely, that he is disgusted with himself.

"I need you to leave me alone for a while. I need to rebuild myself. To figure out who I am when I'm not following you," I ask him gently. If *he* cares, truly cares, he will let me have this without a fight.

He looks down. "I don't know if I can do this without you."

I touch his face and he looks up. "Of course you can, Mulder. Maybe that's what you need to figure out. Who you are, without me."

He is reluctant. But the rational side of him is agreeing with me.

He looks down again. "Is this the end, then? Of... us?" he asks softly.

Us. I don't even know what that is anymore. Or what it could have been.

I answer honestly. "I don't know." But there is a hopeful tone in my voice, and he latches on to it. It gives us something, at least.

He steps away from my car door, letting me unlock it with the keys I've been holding in my hand this whole time. He holds the door for me as I get in and shuts it carefully behind me.

We don't say goodbye. I look at him for a moment, then start the engine and drive away.

*The end.*

I was thinking of going on with this particular plot, what do you think?

Comments to RLMontoya

- Raquel

Updated: January 17, 1999. Please replace any previously archived versions.

Author: ShinySherlock

Title: The Last Straw (1/1)

Spoilers: assumes events throughout the fourth season.

Rated: R (language)

Category: VA

Keywords: Scullyangst.

Summary: Mulder and Scully at a picnic - sort of. Scully stands up for herself and Mulder gets his due. Follow up to "Demons."

Distribution: Archive anywhere. Previously sent out on XAngst Anonymous. Disclaimer: Characters herein belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement intended and no profit being made from their use.

Written in spring 1997.

Hey Dean, ask and ye shall recieve - wrote this puppy this morning just for you. Did you happen to see "3rd Rock" last Sunday before X-Files? Harry and Tommy were saying they could write a great X-Files episode, and Harry came up with "Mulder and Scully at a picnic" as the opening scene. So I wrote them at a picnic, kind of.

No romance in this one. Plenty of angst and potential for more.

- me

The Force is within you. Force yourself.

- Harrison Ford