Title: "Lux Aeterna"
Author: Alicia K
Feedback: Yes, please. Spartcus1@msn.com
Archive: Please ask first. I'll most likely say yes.
Category: S,A um, maybe MSR. Major bonding going on here, folks.
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Mulder and Scully are
not mine! They belong to one Mr. Carter and his minions. No infringement is intended.

Summary: After yet another brush with death, Scully decides to broach a difficult
subject with Mulder.

Author's Note: I was inspired to write this while listening to my college tape of our choir
singing a combination of the Rutter and Faure "Requiems". A Requiem Mass is a mass
for the dead. Some, like the Mozart Requiem, focus on death and the wrath of God.
Faure's and Rutter's are similar in that they focus on light and life eternal. Singing
those works was one of the best experiences I've ever had. So I dedicate this piece to
Dr. Mark Aamot, under whose direction we sang. He probably has no idea what the X-
Files are, but I'll dedicate it to him anyway. I'd also like to dedicate this to my roommate
and friend Cindy, whose soprano solos in the mass brings tears to my eyes. (In a good
way!) Oh yeah, and she's a big X-Files fan, too, although I don't think she really gets
this whole fan fiction thing.


"Lux Aeterna"

I turned away from the flashing red and blue lights, gingerly touching the butterfly
bandage on my temple. Mulder must have seen me flinch, for he was instantly by my
side, hovering.

"You okay, Scully?"

I closed my eyes with a weary exhalation. "I'm fine, Mulder." He peered at me, his
hand on my elbow. "Really." I looked up with a small smile. "I'm okay. I just want to
go back and get some rest."

Still he gazed down at me, concern making his face long and drawn. But he nodded,
and we headed for the car.

Death had been cheated once again.

Such a simple error. A miscalculation.

A stupid mistake.

I hadn't even entered the room prepared. Just walked right in, gun still in my holster, a
perfect target for our suspect. He came from behind me and swung, striking me with
the butt of his rifle. Before I could even cry out, the business end of the weapon was
pointed at my face, and I began to silently pray. If Mulder hadn't appeared and shot the
suspect in the shoulder, I would have been dead, and without a face.

So now here I was, leaving yet another crime scene with yet another battle scar to add
to my collection. At least Mulder had escaped unscathed; we were both alive.

This time.

How much longer would Death be denied access to our little world? How much longer
before one of us was left to grieve, to live out the rest of this life with only half a soul?

I turned to the window as the car bumped over the tattered roads away from the cabin,
looking out into the bleak night.

Mulder flicked on the radio, which the previous renter had left tuned to the classical
station. He gave a dissatisfied grunt and reached out to change it, but the familiar
words I heard made me say, "No, leave it, please." He glanced at me, but returned his
hand to the wheel.

I turned back to the darkness, ears keenly attuned to the ethereal voices of the choir.

"I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me
Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord
For they rest.
Lux aeterna
Luceat Eis
Domine"

"Mulder?"

"Mm."

"I would like this played at my funeral." I grabbed at the door handle as the car
swerved. Flashing my eyes his way, I saw a tense jaw, rapidly blinking eyes, white
knuckles on the steering wheel. My mouth twitched slightly. "Okay," I said slowly,
facing forward again. "If you really don't like this one, there are other "Lux Aeternas"
out there." He remained silent. "It means light eternal, everlasting light," I went on
softly. "This was always my favorite part of the Requiem mass."

"Scully."

I knew what that tone meant. He didn't want to talk about it. He never wanted to talk
about it. But damn it, I did. So I continued. "I think this one's by Rutter. The whole
mass is nice, but I wouldn't want to make everyone sit through it."

"Scully."

His voice was louder this time, and I hurried on. "There should be Communion, too.
Not a full mass, but . "

"Scully!" He slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a noisy, sudden stop in the
middle of the lonely road. The only sound in the car was that of the choir, still singing.

"Cum sanctis tuis
In aeternam
Qui a pius est"

"Christ," he swore, killing the music with an angry twist of his wrist. We sat in silence,
Mulder staring straight ahead, my gaze steadily on him, watching the pulse throb in his
neck. I felt oddly calm, even with his aggravating penchant for denial. "I don't want to
talk about this," he finally stated, voice soft yet steely.

"Okay," I answered reasonably. "How about you, Mulder?"

He sighed irritably, starting the car again. "A dancing bear, a stripper, and a dozen
clowns brandishing cream pies," he muttered darkly as we sped off towards the motel.

XXX

"Goodnight" was the next thing he said to me.

"Night," I replied to his already closed door. I got ready for bed, carefully checking the
bandage and cleaning the wound.

Through the connecting door, I heard the TV playing softly, and I smiled slightly as I
pulled down the covers on the bed. He wasn't so upset that his rituals were disrupted;
that was a good sign.

I could picture him in there, as I had seen him so many times: lying on his back, hands
tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling while the ghostly lights of the TV glowed
and flickered in the darkness.

Rolling onto my side, I closed my eyes peacefully.

Some time later, as I was floating in the netherworld between asleep and awake, I
heard the soft "click" of the connecting door opening. I didn't respond until I felt, rather
than heard his presence in the room.

Turning over and opening my eyes, I saw him standing at the foot of the bed, the pale
yellow light from the parking lot illuminating the right side of his body.

"Mulder?" I murmured.

"You didn't tell me what kind of flowers you wanted," he said simply. I scanned his face
and voice for any sign of sarcasm, but found none.

I sat up and leaned against the headboard, surprised but not showing it. "Anything but
lilies."

He perched carefully on the edge of the bed. "Why not?"

"Just never cared for their scent." I couldn't read his tone of voice, his posture,
anything.

He nodded, falling silent. I patiently waited, staring at his back, his slumped shoulders.
A car passed on the road outside, its headlights casting eerie shapes on the wall. "I
don't think I want a formal service," he finally said, his fingers tracing the tacky diamond
pattern on the faded bed spread beside him. "It would just be you and the Gunmen
anyway. Skinner, too, I guess. You should all just go out and . " He shrugged. "Have
a beer. Or something."

"I can't really picture hanging out and swilling beer with your mother."

A chuckle moved his shoulders. "Mom. She'd want the whole nine yards. Flower
wreaths and oppressive organ music, trying to hand me over to a God I don't even
believe in."

I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them. "So no service, just a get-together." I
paused. "I think I'd be crying too hard to drink any beer."

He half-turned to me. "You'd cry for me, Scully?"

"No, Mulder, I thought I'd dance on your grave in a G-string." I bit my tongue, regretting
the flippant words as they left my tongue.

But he chuckled again. "Sorry I'd have to miss it." He looked down at his hands. "You'll
cry for me, but not in front of anyone else."

What could I say? He knew me too well. Silence reigned again, until I asked, my voice
barely above a whisper, "Will you cry for me, Mulder?"

This time the silence was heavy, falling like a stone to the floor.

"Scully, I don't think I'll ever be able to stop."

My hands trembled in time with my lower lip. Biting back the stinging tears, I swallowed
hard and whispered, "Come here."

He turned, and I saw his tears shining on his cheeks in the half-light. Awkwardly sliding
towards me, he laid his head on top of my thighs, his arms wrapping around my hips. I
stroked his hair and back as his quiet tears soaked the thin material of my pajama
bottoms.

"I need you to do two things for me," I requested, and he answered with a slight nod,
his hair brushing my stomach where my top gapped. "I need you to be there at my
funeral, no matter how much pain you're in. I need you to be there because you are
the biggest and best part of my life, Mulder." I swallowed again past the growing lump
in my throat. "And I need you to go on." He turned over, his glittering eyes alert and
utterly focused on me, determined to do whatever I asked of him. " And I know you
can, because you'll have the strength of my beliefs." I groped blindly for his hand,
unwilling and unable to tear my eyes from his. "Will you do that for me, Mulder?"

His long fingers closed over mine, and in a voice gravelly with unshed tears, he said, "I
will try." I opened my mouth to speak, but he squeezed my hand, sitting up and facing
me on his knees. "I will try, because if you die, Scully, so will I. You're not just the best
part of my life, Scully." He raised a hand to cup my cheek, and I held it there. "You're
the best part of me."

I wept then, leaning forward onto his strong chest. His arms encircled me, rocking me,
clutching me to his thudding heart as he buried his face in my hair.

Eventually, we slid down to the bed, facing each other, my leg between his as our tears
subsided. "Who says I don't cry in front of you?" I sniffled with a weak smile.

He kissed my forehead, smoothing my hair back from my face. For a long while, the
only sounds in the room were our shuddering breaths and sighs and the soft whisper of
lips on cheeks, on eyelids, on fingertips.

We slipped under the blankets, Mulder curling his long body easily around mine. It felt
like home to me. As I drifted into sleep, he kissed my neck just below my ear and
whispered, "Lux aeterna, Scully. You're my everlasting light."

I slept.

THE END

Well, that's probably the most serious thing I've written so far. Whaddya think?

Spartcus1@msn.com