TITLE: Blind (1/3)
AUTHOR: Cheddar (Cheddar1013@yahoo.com)
SPOILERS: Requiem, itty-bitty one for 'The End' (betcha can't find it!)
RATING: PG
CATEGORY: V, Scullyangst, M/S UST, songfic
DISCLAIMER: All these kewl peeps in the story aren't mine (snif snif) and never will be... but I can dream, can't I? Also "What might have been" belongs to Little Texas and I am just borrowing it.
ARCHIVING: Sure, as long as my name and email are still on it
SUMMARY: Scully reflects on her past
NOTE: noromos and non-shippers might not hate this... die-hard shippers might though!
She never did completely forget him. Of course, you never can totally forget someone you spent over seven years with. Spent. Hm. Perhaps that wasn't the most accurate word. Of course, there never were very many words in the English language that accurately described the two.
No, she had not forgotten him. She thought of him from time to time- the interval between them growing increasingly longer and longer as time went by- but in simply, restrictively, a curious way. Just thought of how he was doing, if he was happy, and what he was up to these days. Even when she tucked her daughter in for bed every night- lingering in front of the headboard just gazing at her breathe- she didn't think of him. Well, maybe occasionally. And sometimes when the little girl turned towards the sun, a shadow cast upon half of her face, she could see the part of her that was his. That's when she wondered.
She has a good life. She has her daughter, her work, her health. She has her mother and brothers and their families. She has friends, and an occasional love interest. She is happy.
A short letter was sent to her house a few months ago. His familiar schoolboy-like sloppiness was wrapped around each letter and she had to smile when she first opened it. He tried to be neat and organized, but he failed miserably. To an outsider, that was a downfall to his already apparently faulty character; but to her she knew it was one of the miniscule traits which he possessed that made him beautiful.
The letter was brief, just a greeting. He said he was doing well, and very focused on his new work. He was enjoying the challenge. He likes Boston, but misses DC. He hoped she and Alexandria were doing well and wished them the best. And it was signed.
She read over the letter several times till she had nearly memorized it. She didn't believe one word it said.
He had a way about him that came off as cool and confident. His urbane manner and suave appearances were his protector to the demon of insecurity and frightfulness he possessed. The letter was his plea for her to come back.
But she couldn't. She knew it and he knew it. Too much time had passed. It would not work. But of course, she did not say that in her letter back to him. It merely said she was glad he was doing well, that Alex was top of her 1st grade class, her job was going smoothly, and she wished him the best. Keep in touch. And it was signed.
She hesitated to sign it. A signature was a powerful weapon. It was a promise, it was truthful and honest. And her letter was not truthful and honest. Alex, of course, was the top of her class, but that was just a fact. The other stuff was fluff and courteous responses to the questions which he asked.
As she sent him the letter, a strange feeling came over her. What would happen when her daughter asked about her father? She had never even thought of this before, and it scared her. She always had frank, honest answers for Alex's questions, just as she had frank and honest answers with everything else in her life. But when Alex comes home one day and wonders...
She would simply say that her father is out of her life. Things did not work out between the two of them and they decided it would be better for Alex if her mother raised her alone. And they were happy, right? That's all that matters!
But of course, that too was a lie. All lies lead to the truth. But what else could she say to the innocence that she and he created? Should she say her father was abducted by aliens only a day before she found out her grandfather had impregnated her so she would give birth to his son's baby? No, of course not. There was no reason for her to know that. She had to protect her, no matter how much she had to lie.
She needed to talk with him. They were the parents of the true victim in this case, and they needed to decide what would be best for her. But she couldn't talk with him. She knew she would probably never exchange another word with him. She couldn't.
They could, of course, meet somewhere and spend all night and all day discussing their present, thinking of their future, and reminiscing in their past. It could be the most intimate, most amazing, most heartfelt conversation she would ever have in her life, but they both knew they couldn't go back.
Why couldn't they go back? It had been too long. Too much had happened and it was best if they went their separate ways. Was it best? Yes it was. If they did reunite, it would not work. Work, in the conventional sense, that is. It may work for them, but they had too unique of a relationship to work for everyone around them.
Work. Wrong word. She mentally noted that she needed to think of a better word besides 'work'. That did not fit in their situation.
She knew they could never fall in love. They would never call each other pet names, spoon, give each other secret notes, buy flowers and candy for each other, go on a romantic vacation... That just wasn't them. It never was, and it never will be. They had kissed but once... and yet oddly enough it seemed they are closer than old married couples.
Were. They were closer. They aren't close now.
Or are they? Was theirs one of the relationships where time had no effect whatsoever on their love for each other?
She chastised herself for musing. Why was she doing this? She never thought of him anymore. She didn't care for him anymore, she didn't want to. She knew it would be no use to wonder things like these. It was childish and immature. Perhaps her daughter was bringing out the little girl in her. She smiled.
Hunger pangs crept throughout her empty stomach as she rose out of bed for another lazy summer day. A few drops of milk spilled over the rim of her cereal bowl as she groggily craddled it towards the sunroom. She reached behind the bakers rack to the piles of family albums she had. Dust made her sneeze, as if punishing her for years of abandonment. She had always loved looking through photo albums, this time no different. Memories, tastes, smells, feelings flooded her emotions and captured her in time as she flipped through the pages.
She closed the book and was leaning over to put it back when a picture fell out onto the carpet. She leaned over to pick it up and almost dropped it when she saw it. Almost.
It was a picture of him and her. A crime-scene photo she could have sworn was burned about 12 years ago. The edges were torn, but the picture itself was still clear as if it were taken just that morning. Her hair was bright and vigorously red as it used to be, her face young and smart. His face was concentrated- beautifully focused on the intense sheet of paper they held between them. They were so focused, so intent on the case they were both engrossed in, nothing in their busy surroundings bothered them. Him and me, she thought. That's how it used to be.
Looking at the picture gave her an odd feeling of curiosity. No longer was she curious simply about him, but about them. What might have been had he not been so cruelly snatched from her strangely perfect life? Would they have worked their lives together until their names were etched in the stars?
Her heart was gripped with a longing of seeing him again. But once again the sensible side of her took over.
What might have been?
Put the picture away.
What could have been?
It's been so long...
We were so close... our hearts beat as one...
It's no use. Why now?
What might have been?
It can't be too late...
Perhaps...
Dana Scully slammed the book shut, thew it behind the couch, and got up to make herself a pot of coffee.
Note: I'm a die-hard shipper and want nothing more than for our lovely agents to marry and live together in blissful eterneity, but I entertained the thought of "what might have been" from Scully's view if they never did get together after Mulder was returned. Here are the entire lyrics of Little Texas's "What might have Been"
Sure I think about you now and then
But it's been a long, long time
I've got a good life now
I've moved on
So when you cross my mind
I try not to think about what might have been
Cause that was then
And we have taken different roads
We can't go back again
There's no use giving in
And there's no way to know
What might have been
We can sit and talk about this all night long
Wonder why we didn't last
Yes, they may well be the best days we will ever know
But we'll have to leave them in the past
So try not to think about what might have been
Cause that was then
And we have taken different roads
We can't go back again
There's no use giving in
And there's no way to know
What might have been
The same old look in your eyes
It's a beautiful night
I'm so glad to stay
But too much time has gone by
We should just say goodbye
And turn and walk away
Try not to think about what might have been
Cause that was then
And we have taken different roads
We can't go back again
There's no use giving in
And there's no way to know
What might have been
No we'll never know…
What might have been