Peace

"His Tears, His Crusade," by Breeze

Rating: G

Summary: Mulder thinks about everyone he has hurt on his crusade.

Disclaimer: They're not mine! I'm just borrowing them, honest!

Mulder, Scully, and anyone else from the 'Files belong to Chris and the gang.

Archiving: Sure, just keep my name on it and tell me about it.

Feedback: Yes, please! Questions, comments, and suggestions go to keiraya@juniormail.com. Keep your flames, though; I have no use for them.

Peace. Light. Freedom. Truth.

Those four words, so short. Not one more than two syllables long. They stand for such wonderful ideas. Peace. Life without war, without fighting, without pain or suffering. Light. Something soft and gentle, filling in the corners, offering security. Freedom. The government of oneself. Making your own choices, letting the wind dance in your hair and the waves lap the shore where you stand. Truth. The most beautiful one of all. Knowing, actually knowing, what happened or what was thought by so-and-so or how everything worked out.

And all so totally out of his reach.

Special Agent Fox Mulder sank down further into his couch. And he cried. Cried for himself, because he would always be so far away from those four concepts. He was trapped at the bottom of a dark pit, and the only way he would ever feel that wind or the waves was by some miracle.

He cried for all the people who had died from or for his crusade. His crusade for those four words. His father, his mother, Melissa, even that mop with teeth, Queequeg. And even more people that he just couldn't remember right now. They were lost, never again to be seen in life by their loved ones. Because of his crusade.

Most of all, most importantly, he cried for her. For Scully. His partner, his friend; there was no word to describe what they had. She was the one thing that kept him from being sucked even further into that hellhole he had gotten himself into. In doing so, she was beginning the fall, too. She saw pain, death, and the loss of innocence. Saw the things that hinted at something more terrible. And through it all, she stuck by him, picking up the pieces and setting him back on track. God knows that she could have left him at any time. He wished that he could shield her, push her back into the woman she had been before that day she stepped over the threshold into his office. But it could not be done.

Mulder sat, lost in grief and tears. There was a soft knocking sound on his apartment door, and he went to get it.

Scully stood there, looking as wonderful as ever. Seeing the dark circles under Mulder's eyes and their red rims, she looked at him quizzically. Instead of asking him what was wrong, she jerked her head to the right. "Time to go, Mulder, plane to catch,"

Mulder nodded and stood a few moments more, then turned and went for his luggage. Another plane ride, another case. Into more pain. Further away from those cherished ideas. But he would go, and Scully would follow.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Scully lead him into the outside world, and into the light of day.