I was a little surprised that she didn't show up at all in 'The Truth', and I figured she'd certainly have some strong feelings on the events of the episode, so I decided to give her her moment. That, and Scully would have had to say goodbye to her mother, right? I'm thinking about writing a couple companion pieces to this story, featuring Mulder and Scully (and the Scully family) in the years following the series finale, so if anyone's interested let me know. Thanks for reading!
Maggie Scully shifted and turned to look at her oldest son. He and Tara were together on the couch, their eyes glued to the TV in disbelief. It was the third network they checked, and any minute now, they'd flip to Fox. She wondered what they'd do once they ran out of networks to check. Cable news, she supposed. Three more channels to check.
It was only six-fifteen, but it seemed like it should have been much later. Jetlag maybe? No, she couldn't place all the blame on the flight to San Diego. She wasn't just tired; she was world-weary. She sighed and turned away, unable to stand watching the same news story over and over. She walked over to the window looking out at the neighborhood, and was struck by how little it had changed in forty years.
If Maggie had known nine years ago, before Dana became part of the X Files, what her daughter's life would become, she would have been selfish. Unapologetically.
She'd have begged her daughter to do anything, except take that assignment.
But, was it really selfish to want to protect your child? To spare her nine years of pain? To want to have both your daughters alive and well? To want to see your daughter raise her own son, have a little family of her own? Was it really selfish to want to spare her the pain of infertility, the suffering of cancer, and the agony of saying goodbye to the ones you love over and over again until you grow numb?
The price for that trade off?
No Fox Mulder. No William.
Maggie didn't blame Fox for the last nine years of tragedy; if she did, she'd have to blame Dana, and she couldn't do that. Who would Dana be now, if she'd never met Fox? Would she have fallen in love with someone else? Would they have children? Would she be happy, or would she know that something was missing? That something wasn't right?
And what of William? Would she feel his absence anyway, even if he'd never existed? Surely, it would be less painful that what she felt now. Feeling he was missing couldn't hurt even a fraction of as much as carrying him, birthing him, caring for him the first nine months of his life, and then handing him off to strangers.
Even with whatever feeling of absence she may have felt without Fox and William in her life, Dana would have had a better life than she does now. Maggie knew her own life would be better, and that's what was so selfish. In that alternate existence, she'd have both her daughters. As it was now, Melissa was dead, and she might never see Dana again.
She should have known when she spoke to Dana barely a day and a half ago now, should have sensed that it was a different kind of goodbye.
"Dana? What's wrong?" Maggie opened the door wider to let her in. Her eyes were red, slightly swollen, and she was gripping the cuffs of her jacket with white knuckles.
Dana walked into the living room, sniffled and looked around restlessly. "Are you all ready for San Diego?"
"Nearly, I have a little packing left, but I'm not leaving until tomorrow afternoon..."
Dana looked toward the family photos on the mantel, before her eyes suddenly went blank, and she fell onto the couch. Maggie sat beside her.
"What happened at Fox's trial today?" It wasn't hard to guess what was upsetting her daughter.
"They're going to execute him, Mom, for something he didn't do." Her voice was teary, choked.
It was upsetting that she'd gotten used to hearing Dana's voice like that, it had been so common the last two years. Her strong beautiful daughter, who had inherited her Navy Captain father's rationalism and iron resolve, seemed to have lost a considerable amount of that resolve.
"If he didn't do it, they can't convict him," Maggie tried to soothe her daughter.
"They did already, it's done. They're going to shoot a needle full of poison into his veins and stop his heart."
That's why her eyes were red.
"There must be some evidence you can find, something to prove he didn't do it?"
"We tried. We have evidence, but they refused to hear it."
"They can't do that, they have to hear it!"
She shook her head sadly. "No, they don't. The trial was rigged, mom. They want to kill Mulder, and they've found a legal way to do it."
Maggie took her hand and squeezed it. "That doesn't make any sense, why would they want to kill him?"
"Because, he knows something they don't want him to know."
"What?"
"I don't know...he won't tell me. He won't tell anyone."
"Dana, I don't believe--this is the same military your father worked for, I can't believe they'd execute an innocent man." She frowned, not Bill's military.
"It's not the same, Mom. They don't fight wars, they protect secrets." A tear slipped from her eye, as she stared at her hands, not really seeing them.
Maggie held her daughter, though the younger woman didn't cry, as she expected her to. She'd clearly already done as much of that as she could handle. Seeming to gain back some of her resolve, Dana pulled herself up, determination replacing the anguish in her eyes. they talked some more, about Bill and Charlie and their families, about church, about the blessedly mundane things in life. Then, Dana had to go.
Maggie walked her to the door, where Dana hugged her again, and spoke very quietly, her voice once again choked.
"Goodbye Mom."
She should have known. If she had known that, that goodbye might be forever, she'd have done it differently. She would have held her little girl longer and tighter, and kissed her cheek. She'd have told her how much she loved her, how much she'd miss her. Maggie would have made her promise she'd be careful, stay safe, and please, please, try to find some way to let her know she was still alive over the years.
She would have tried hard not to picture the little freckled girl who cried over a dead snake, or the pigtailed toddler who'd climbed into her father's lap with a book for him to read. She would not have flashed back to the young woman who stood up, and told her parents that she was joining the FBI, their wishes be damned. The young woman with a radiant, though infrequent smile, and her whole life ahead of her.
That young woman had long since disappeared.
Most importantly, Maggie would not question God's plan. She wasn't going to cry and beat her fists against a pillow, demanding he tell her why his plan is so miserable for her daughter, for her family. He knew what he was doing, she might not understand it, Father McCue might not understand it, but God knew his own plan. Surely, he wouldn't put them through all this without some purpose in mind?
She let her eyes travel up and down the quiet street, the doors with silver numbers nailed on, the tasteful flowerboxes in the windows. A man knocked on a door a few houses down, and Maggie was reminded of her last visitors.
They were three. The tired messengers who wore guilt and fire in their eyes, came to her door the day after Dana, to tell her about her daughter. It wasn't the news she'd learned to fear the day she felt in love with a Navy man, that she'd feared triply after three of their four children followed him into government service. That news, she might have been prepared for.
She dropped the sweater she was folding, and rushed to answer the knocking at the door, leaving her suitcase open on the bed. She expected it to be Dana, thinking maybe the courts had come to their senses and let Fox go.
But when she opened her door, instead of finding one FBI agent, she found three.
"Oh, I was expecting my daughter..." Then realization hit, and with it fear, settling like a burning rock in her stomach. "What happened to Dana?"
"She's fine, Mrs. Scully. She's safe," Walter Skinner assured her.
Maggie surveyed their guilty faces, her mouth fallen open slightly, and felt another wave of realization strike her, one she wasn't prepared for. "She's gone."
He nodded shortly. She moved aside quickly, and let them into her home. It was obvious they hadn't slept. Their clothes were wrinkled, their bodies almost slouched with weariness, their eyes all dark and clouded with things she didn't want to know. They stood around her living room, Agents Doggett and Reyes close together in a way that wasn't unlike Dana and Fox. AD Skinner wasn't as close, and his eyes were focused on the photos on the mantel.
He seemed to fixate on the one of Fox, Dana, and William, taken shortly after he was born, and probably one of few. Doggett and Reyes followed his gaze, and all three seemed to glance away at the same time. As if it was unpleasant, or even perverse, to look at a family that no longer existed, that maybe never really had.
"What happened?" She asked her visitors.
Doggett went over to the stereo and turned it on, loudly. Like some unspoken signal, the three of them moved closer together, and Maggie followed their lead. Then quietly, he told her what they'd spent the night doing.
It felt like the story could have gone on for hours, but he kept it short. Then she turned to the man who had been boss, friend, and ally over the years. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how to say it, opening his mouth and closing it again repeatedly. The he sighed loudly.
"You need to know that they'll do everything in their power find Dana and Mulder. That means they'll throw their faces on the news, and they might say things. People might come here to question you, and tell you that Dana and Mulder did things. They'll want to make you question the kind of person your daughter is, they'll try to get you to betray her. Don't believe a single word of what you hear. Don't listen to any of it."
"Mr. Skinner, I appreciate the warning, but after all these years, surely you must know that I made of stronger stuff than that. It will take much more than they can say to get me to question what kind of person my Dana is."
He nodded, and she'd swear there was a shadow of a smile on his lips. And something that could have been relief on those of his compatriots. She jolted them out of the quiet mood.
"If you'll all excuse me, I have to finish packing, I have to make a plane in an hour and a half..."
Strong as a Redwood, Maggie had finished packing her suitcase, met her cab, and made her flight. All without shedding a tear. Military wives learn to be strong, to bear anything and everything, and do it quietly. How else would she have carried, birthed and raised four children with a husband who spent most of his time at sea? How else would she have survived those long nights, wondering if he'd come home?
She looked out at the same neighborhood she'd raised her children in, at least partly. Charlie had been so tiny when they moved in here, barely four years-old, and so excited to explore. Melissa, at ten, was already insisting she felt ghosts haunting the place. Bill Jr. spent the first week sulking, he missed his friends back in Anapolis. And Dana, only eight, was attached to her father's hip, begging him not to be too tired to read her another chapter of Moby Dick that night. It didn't matter that the book was completely inappropriate for an child; Dana had always been willing ask questions about what she didn't understand.
Bill switched to Fox, and their timing couldn't have been better.
"...Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, fugatives wanted by both the FBI and the Military in connection with a murder. We're being told very little, except that they were both FBI agents, it seems she was until this morning. He was missing last year, and hasn't been a Bureau employee since 2001. We don't know exactly what their role was in this murder, but a source close to the investigation has told Fox that Fox Mulder was actually convicted of the murder in a military court. As for Dana Scully, this source tells us that she's looking at several felony charges for helping him escape custody. If she had a part in the murder, it's still unclear at this time. Authorities ask that if you see either of them, that you not approach them, but contact your local police department. And in other news..."
Bill finally switched the TV off with a considerable amount of aggression. He stood up, walked across the room and back, ran his hands through his hair, and finally dropped his arms and turned to her. "What the hell was she thinking?"
When Maggie spoke, her voice was soft, calm. "Probably, that she couldn't bear to say goodbye to him one more time."
"Are you saying you actually approve of this, Mom?"
"Of course not. But, I understand why she left, and I won't hold that choice against her."
"I know why she went," he said, annunciating every word harshly.
"You might know, but you don't understand."
He thrust his hands on his hips. "What don't I understand, Mom? She chose him over us, she shamed this family!"
"Bill, calm down," Tara stood beside him, hand resting on his arm.
"You're ashamed of her, William? Then you really don't understand." Maggie looked sadly to the ground. How did her family become this?
He glowered, but didn't respond.
"Dana is much more than just your sister or my daughter, William. That's what you've never understood."
Maggie had stopped trying to understand the dangerous, conspiracy-filled world her daughter lived in, and Dana's part in it. What she did understand was that Dana wasn't just her daughter, or Bill Jr's sister; she was William's mother, grieving now, and Fox's lover, and partner in just about every sense of the word. She had been denied and forced to give up those roles before, but now, she had to keep the one she had left. Dana and Fox were right in the middle of that dangerous world, that she knew, and part of her knew, felt in her heart, that God had a much bigger plan for them than FBI agents or parents.
"But, she is still my sister." He was hurt by the idea that he didn't really know his sister.
"And, this doesn't change that. You have to know she didn't make this decision lightly."
Bill actually cracked a smile. "Dana never made a decision lightly in her life."
"No, she didn't."
With that, he seemed to finally realize something about his baby sister. The anger left his face, and his shoulders sagged, the sorrow of loss taking over his features. "Do you think we'll ever see her again?"
She sighed. "Yes, one way or another, we'll see her again."
Bill opened his mouth, seemingly ready to protest, but then closed it without a word. He sank onto his sofa, and stared blankly at the empty TV screen. As the first tear slid down his cheek, his wife embraced him.
Maggie turned away, back to the window, to the familiar neighborhood. She saw two ghostly figures playing hopscotch--two redheaded girls, jumping around and laughing, hugging each other. They both wore huge smiles, and eyes burning with energy. Then the memory disappeared, and with it the two girls.
Both girls were gone.