He had been told she was dead. As he walked into the bitter cold room
butterflies filled his stomach. With that airy feeling in his stomach his
heart began to ache and tears formed in his bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept
in days and it was finally catching up with him. His eyes had been looking at
the sheet which covered a body on the table since he had entered the room.
Once he reached the table he nodded, as to let the woman know he was ready.
When she pulled back the sheet his heart stopped and he couldn't breathe. He
turned for a moment before turning back to the body. Her body. His one true
love. The woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was laying on a
cold slab blue in color, lifeless. He closed his eyes letting the tears
gently flow down his face. Taking her hand he kissed it before kissing her
forehead. As he left anger filled his body. The anger he felt wasn't against
her, but himself. Speeding up, passing stop signs and running red lights
only fed his adrenaline rush. He had met his destination in half the time it
would usually take. Red faced and swollen eyed, he entered his apartment
knowing what he had to do, which at the moment he didn't have the courage.
He fell to his knees and screamed until he could no longer go without
oxygen. The tears were freefalling now. Banging on the floor and throwing a
tantrum like a two year old was how he could only express a part of how he
was feeling. To him he was dead. Without her his life was nothing. Before he
had met her his life was all about his sister and finding her. His journey
had led him to her. He couldn't live without his other half. He wouldn't.
Getting up he grabbed his gun from the table. Still crying he raised it to
his head. A thought went through his mind right before he was about to pull
the trigger. Placing the gun on the table where it had rested before he
grabbed paper and a pen. He quickly wrote:
Without my other half; I am dead.
Without the love of my life; I am nothing.
Without the woman I wanted to spend my life with; I do not want to live.
He placed the pen down and picked up his gun again. Squinting he put
pressure on the trigger before yelling, "Scully, I love you!", at the top of
his lungs. Not two seconds after, his door was kicked open and he ignored
it. He didn't want any interuptions.
"Mulder no!" The woman yelled.
That voice. It couldn't be. With the gun still pointed to the side of his
head he turned to look at her. He dropped the gun and let it fall to the
floor. He never took his eyes from hers as he walked over to her. He touched
her cheek caressing it.
"It's me." She told him taking his head in her hands and kissing his
forehead.
"You were dead."
"No I wasn't. I am alive, and I am here."
Questions he wanted to ask her filled his head, but right now wasn't the
time to ask them. "I love you."
"I love you too, Mulder."