When The Battle's Lost And Won

Author: Lola the deranged shipper, who was almost
sympathetic to Fowley
Spoiler: The End, pretend s6 & 7 haven't happened.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Put your fancy lawyers
back in their box please God and 20th C. Fox. I'm only
giving you free advertising after all!
Dedications: To Lissie, for conversion! To all my online
Philes, I hope you appreciate it! To Felicity Dana
(Scully) Louise, my little angel.
Feedback: pretty please! This is my first real attempt,
and I wanna know what you think:

Scully_is_a_medical@doctor.com


A Fowley Fic with a difference

They are so happy together, almost perfect. Even their
thoughts are a joint process. Laughing at private
jokes, with a bind of love that seems impenetrable. If
only I could find a chink…but none seem to exist.

When I left Fox, all those years ago, it was not simply a
career move. I left because I had to. Obviously there
are huge perks in prestigious international diplomacy;
but inevitably other concerns take prevalence. Not a
day passes without regret over past mistakes, nor can I
forget the pain I caused both Fox and myself. But
perhaps this has just been another cruel twist of
destiny.

In the beginning, Fox and I had been a great couple -
functioning on the same level. I wanted to help him find
his sister, to stop the pain he could not escape alone.
We would spend countless nights talking until the sun
rose, signalling another day of work. Always planning
the ultimate means to uncover the Truth. But he never
looked at me with the passion now reserved exclusively
for her. The X-Files were the most fantastic, and
eventually fatal occurrence in our short relationship.
Any feelings Fox once had for me were quickly channelled
into his new quest, and I felt him gradually drifting
from me as those tedious summer days dragged on. My
only satisfaction was that he needed me. More than he
could ever contemplate today.

After all, everyone else saw the project as "Spooky's"
indulgence, giving him a precious glimpse before
siphoning him back into the mainstream. Just another
pawn on the Consortium's global chessboard. They had
come to me and guaranteed Fox's safety in return for my
co-operation. I was the original spy on Agent Mulder's
progress. His "high regard" for me made me ideal - even
those bastards knew he could never love me. Convincing
myself that I was protecting Fox, I maintained the
charade until it became intolerable. I would die if he
ever lost faith in me. The Consortium realised this, so
demanded a removal that would not incite Fox into crusade
mode. And thus it was time for a dignified retreat.

European transfer seemed best. It was undoubtedly an
immense opportunity, one that would make it churlish of
me to refuse. It removed the possibility of visiting
every weekend at least. Breaking the news to him was
torturous, and it took three solid days to summon the
courage. He never realised how strangely I must have
been behaving. At least he had the decency to look
interested, even perturbed as I told him. However, it
was obviously the repercussions for his work that were
his primary concern, not the trifling matter of our
relationship dissolving. Just as I had given up hope,
traces of sadness etched into the faint lines on his very
kissable face. I think that was final realisation
setting in. He held me, but not too tightly; he would
not stop me from going. When I finally drew back from
his comforting arms, I was powerless to stem the tide of
unleashed tears. With a wry smile, Fox left the room,
leaving me to my misery. But as he crossed the threshold
he made one last effort.

"I'll miss you"

"Oh. I'll miss you, too, Fox"

"Hey, you don't have to agree with me anymore. I
guess you won't miss that."

And he was gone. With him, any chance of survival our
union ever had.

After a pointless day in DC, I was 'ready' to fly off
into the unknown. But I had become accustomed to acting
on blind faith - a prerequisite of working with Fox - or
so I thought. I lingered in the passenger lounge, until
the absolute last boarding call. Had he shown up then
and asked me to reconsider, I would have stayed in a
moment. But I was reading lines from a script that Fate
had no plans to follow. With my heart as heavy as my
luggage, I trudged onwards to start the next chapter of
my Chronicles.

During my time abroad, I could never exclude Fox from my
thoughts. He sent a Christmas card that first year, but
no other contact was ventured. To him, I no longer
mattered. I soon found out why. I kept abreast of
matters relating to the X-Files through my limited
contacts - notably the CSM. I was hurt when a
replacement was assigned to my former post, but initially
found solace in the fact that her unwillingness to
believe would destroy her working with him.

Unfortunately, this was largely proved wrong, as she has
stayed the duration. She still demands evidence for
everything. I hear her involvement has brought great
suffering - I empathise. But she will never feel this
continual guilt, disloyalty or rejection. So maybe she
is not the only "perpetual victim".

My return was as surprising as I had always planned it.
The most comforting part was getting to defend Fox
instantly, with him pleased to see me. Although it was
hard to admit that someone had filled my position in my
absence. Invading this partnership would be tough, but
I stayed optimistic. Until Fox confessed his undying
love for her. In front of everyone, after she almost got
shot (again!) To everyone else it had been obvious; I
must have been in denial. Still, it would never hurt to
try...

So, here I am. Outside her apartment. The music
emanating from the place is strangely calming. "Please
Forgive Me" Bryan Adams. Yes, Fox, please do forgive me.
This is for you.

Bracing myself, I burst the door open with my huge ass to
find her...and Fox - half-naked and kissing. Right in
front of me, oblivious to my presence. But then Fox
turned to me, all worried. He still cares!

"Diana, I thought you got shot! Why the gun?"
Mulder gasped.

"Well, your friend here should have taken the
bullet. Now she will" I hissed

"Agent Fowley? Are you okay?" Scully inquired
breathless from her passionate interlude.

"Let's say I'm here to enforce the Bureau policy
about colleagues not getting it on"

I snapped the safety off, ready to fire. I lined up the
centre of the bitch's head. No doctor would save Dr
Scully from this - and Mulder would be mine. As my
finger began to squeeze, two shots startled me. As the
pain in my stomach erupted, I saw the agents' guns for
the first time, now held limply at their sides.

Then the pain really hit. I heard her saying ambulance.
Everything red and sticky again. Have to wash twice this
month. I see straight can't. You Fox love.
Speak...can't...bleurgh.