Title: The Return
Author: Little Bit
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Mulder comes back (no duh)
Rating: PG-13 ?
Category: Romance
Feedback: Yes, please!
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July 16, 2001
2:34 A.M.
Dana Scully's Apartment
I wake up, sweating. I had another nightmare about Them. They killed my
baby boy. Those bastards killed Michael. On May 9, 2001, They killed him.
He was only 2 months, 3 days old. Even now, 2 months and one week later,
the horrific event takes place in my mind, every night. Sure, for most
people, the mourning process takes many, many months. Not for Dana Scully.
I am the kind of person that cries for a week, at the most. I have no idea
why it is bothering me so much this time. The Syndicate is always screwing
my life up. It is funny though, because whenever I think they have taken
their last jab at me, another death, loss, or illness comes my way.
Humorous, isn't it?
Well, so much for a good night's sleep. Not that this surprises me. My
sleeping habits are about as bad as Mulder's. Or rather, his sleeping habits
a year ago. God only knows if Mulder even sleeps, or will ever wake up.
I want a cup of tea. I walk into the kitchen and put water on for tea. I
sit down at the kitchen table and wait for it to boil. Oh, what a life!
I bring the tea into the living room. I wrap myself up in blankets and begin
to think. I think about how my life could have been. What if had stepped
over that invisible line between Mulder and me? Would he still be here?
Would Michael still be here? It is always nice to think about how I could
have stopped a major disaster. That flood of guilt always seems to wash
over me. It is a *wonderful* feeling.
I spend the rest on my night thinking about Mulder. Those little touches
and looks we always gave each other. We both knew what they meant, but we
never said what we were thinking out loud. Almost the entire Bureau thought
we were a couple. I guess we were the only ones that did not.
***The next day***
July 16, 2001
3:56 P.M.
Today has been uneventful. Agent Doggett, Mulder's replacement, is rather
dull. I mean, he's nice and everything, but my friendship with John is
nothing like the relationship I had with Mulder. Then again, our friendship
was not purely platonic. That is how the story always goes, though. Two
best friends fall in love and live happily ever after. Right? Sorry, the
real world is never that nice. I look up at the clock. 4:01. I am leaving.
Now. I cannot stand another minute in this hellhole.
"John?"
"Yeah?" he replies, barely glancing up from his computer screen.
"I think I am gonna leave a little early today. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah, of course. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine." I reply with my typical answer. Mulder would have become
immediately concerned. Then again, John is not Mulder by any stretch of my
imagination.
"I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Bye."
And that was that. I start my car and head to my usual destination.
Michael's grave. It is kind of pathetic, but I always seem to be comforted
by a-shall we say-kindred spirit. With Mulder and Michael gone, I always
seem to be alone, outside of work. Even at work, I always seem to be
invisible. These are the cards life has dealt me, and I either play them or
fold. Because of my religion,"folding" isn't an option.
I parked on the side of the road near the cemetary. It is kind of creepy,
though, to find comfort among all of the dead people. I guess it is no
creepier than any of the work I do-or did-on the X Files. I walk up the
path toward my son's grave. I see a person-a man to be more exact. Why is
he standing by my son's grave? Who the hell would be at Michael's grave?!
I pull out my gun and begin to run as fast as my legs will carry me. He is
staggering. I think he's drunk. Oh my gosh! Is it-could it be? Mulder!?
This is unbelieveable. Mulder is standing right in front of me. He's
crying. I rush over to his side.
"Mulder, is that you!?"
The only reply I receive is crying.
"Are you okay?"
"Sculleee!" Mulder cries.
"It's okay. Shhh. Everything is going to be all right.
I sit with Mulder, rocking him back and forth until his sobs die down. He
looks so unhappy. He looks *miserable*. I study him as he sits there in
my arms. He is a lot skinnier. His face is unshaven, and his eyes look
sunken. The lost look that is forever on his face has become so pathetic it
makes me want to cry. Yet, underneath all of these changes, he is still my
Mulder. Wait a minute! Did I say *my* Mulder? I better be careful. I
have no interest in crossing that invisible boundary that we have between us.
After about five minutes, he stops crying and turns to face me.
"Scully. I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I should've never left for
Oregon. None of this would have happened. I-" Mulder starts crying again.
"Mulder, none of this was your fault. It's okay. You look awful. I am
taking you home right now."
"Scully, I love you. This is all my fault. We could have been a family. If
only I didn't leave. If only-"
"Mulder you are dilerious. None of this is your fault. I am taking you home
right now." Oh, of course I knew he meant what he said. I just, I need
time to think about all this right now.
"NO! I am not delierious! I know I love you! You have got to believe me!
Please Scully, *trust me*."
Oh, God, keep me strong. He just said those two words. *trust me*. If I
answer that I do, I have leapt over that line. If I do not say that I trust
him, he will think that our seven, wonderful years together were nothing.
What am I supposed to say?
"Mulder, you are putting me in a tight situation. Look, you are exhausted,
I'm exhausted. Let's just go home, okay?"
"Okay, we'll go. But you need to understand, when I say I love you, I am not
drugged. I truly love you."
"Let's go home, Mulder."
Author: Little Bit
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Mulder comes back (no duh)
Rating: PG-13 ?
Category: Romance
Feedback: Yes, please!
\/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
July 16, 2001
2:34 A.M.
Dana Scully's Apartment
I wake up, sweating. I had another nightmare about Them. They killed my
baby boy. Those bastards killed Michael. On May 9, 2001, They killed him.
He was only 2 months, 3 days old. Even now, 2 months and one week later,
the horrific event takes place in my mind, every night. Sure, for most
people, the mourning process takes many, many months. Not for Dana Scully.
I am the kind of person that cries for a week, at the most. I have no idea
why it is bothering me so much this time. The Syndicate is always screwing
my life up. It is funny though, because whenever I think they have taken
their last jab at me, another death, loss, or illness comes my way.
Humorous, isn't it?
Well, so much for a good night's sleep. Not that this surprises me. My
sleeping habits are about as bad as Mulder's. Or rather, his sleeping habits
a year ago. God only knows if Mulder even sleeps, or will ever wake up.
I want a cup of tea. I walk into the kitchen and put water on for tea. I
sit down at the kitchen table and wait for it to boil. Oh, what a life!
I bring the tea into the living room. I wrap myself up in blankets and begin
to think. I think about how my life could have been. What if had stepped
over that invisible line between Mulder and me? Would he still be here?
Would Michael still be here? It is always nice to think about how I could
have stopped a major disaster. That flood of guilt always seems to wash
over me. It is a *wonderful* feeling.
I spend the rest on my night thinking about Mulder. Those little touches
and looks we always gave each other. We both knew what they meant, but we
never said what we were thinking out loud. Almost the entire Bureau thought
we were a couple. I guess we were the only ones that did not.
***The next day***
July 16, 2001
3:56 P.M.
Today has been uneventful. Agent Doggett, Mulder's replacement, is rather
dull. I mean, he's nice and everything, but my friendship with John is
nothing like the relationship I had with Mulder. Then again, our friendship
was not purely platonic. That is how the story always goes, though. Two
best friends fall in love and live happily ever after. Right? Sorry, the
real world is never that nice. I look up at the clock. 4:01. I am leaving.
Now. I cannot stand another minute in this hellhole.
"John?"
"Yeah?" he replies, barely glancing up from his computer screen.
"I think I am gonna leave a little early today. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah, of course. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine." I reply with my typical answer. Mulder would have become
immediately concerned. Then again, John is not Mulder by any stretch of my
imagination.
"I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Bye."
And that was that. I start my car and head to my usual destination.
Michael's grave. It is kind of pathetic, but I always seem to be comforted
by a-shall we say-kindred spirit. With Mulder and Michael gone, I always
seem to be alone, outside of work. Even at work, I always seem to be
invisible. These are the cards life has dealt me, and I either play them or
fold. Because of my religion,"folding" isn't an option.
I parked on the side of the road near the cemetary. It is kind of creepy,
though, to find comfort among all of the dead people. I guess it is no
creepier than any of the work I do-or did-on the X Files. I walk up the
path toward my son's grave. I see a person-a man to be more exact. Why is
he standing by my son's grave? Who the hell would be at Michael's grave?!
I pull out my gun and begin to run as fast as my legs will carry me. He is
staggering. I think he's drunk. Oh my gosh! Is it-could it be? Mulder!?
This is unbelieveable. Mulder is standing right in front of me. He's
crying. I rush over to his side.
"Mulder, is that you!?"
The only reply I receive is crying.
"Are you okay?"
"Sculleee!" Mulder cries.
"It's okay. Shhh. Everything is going to be all right.
I sit with Mulder, rocking him back and forth until his sobs die down. He
looks so unhappy. He looks *miserable*. I study him as he sits there in
my arms. He is a lot skinnier. His face is unshaven, and his eyes look
sunken. The lost look that is forever on his face has become so pathetic it
makes me want to cry. Yet, underneath all of these changes, he is still my
Mulder. Wait a minute! Did I say *my* Mulder? I better be careful. I
have no interest in crossing that invisible boundary that we have between us.
After about five minutes, he stops crying and turns to face me.
"Scully. I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I should've never left for
Oregon. None of this would have happened. I-" Mulder starts crying again.
"Mulder, none of this was your fault. It's okay. You look awful. I am
taking you home right now."
"Scully, I love you. This is all my fault. We could have been a family. If
only I didn't leave. If only-"
"Mulder you are dilerious. None of this is your fault. I am taking you home
right now." Oh, of course I knew he meant what he said. I just, I need
time to think about all this right now.
"NO! I am not delierious! I know I love you! You have got to believe me!
Please Scully, *trust me*."
Oh, God, keep me strong. He just said those two words. *trust me*. If I
answer that I do, I have leapt over that line. If I do not say that I trust
him, he will think that our seven, wonderful years together were nothing.
What am I supposed to say?
"Mulder, you are putting me in a tight situation. Look, you are exhausted,
I'm exhausted. Let's just go home, okay?"
"Okay, we'll go. But you need to understand, when I say I love you, I am not
drugged. I truly love you."
"Let's go home, Mulder."