Author's Note: Aloha! So after what feels like a century long hiatus from the fic world, I'm back! I actually have a few projects underway, not the least of which is the sequel to my Bones story, Iridescent. I have been gone for work for several weeks, and I discovered that my sneaky little muse apparently decided to take an extended vacation to ... well, I have no idea where. But anyway, the point is, I think she's slowly but surely making a return. So anyway, this is my first attempt at an XF fic in quite some time, and it's the first thing I've written at all in almost two months, so I'm not promising anything. The idea just kinda came to me, and I figured it would be a good way to kind of ease myself back into the swing of things, so ... yeah.
If you stuck with me and read through all of that ... you rock! Anyway, enjoy the story, and remember that reviews are love! I always want to know what you think and/or have to say, even if it's just telling me that you think the story thinks. Shit. Stinks. Ugh, you get the point
Spoilers: None, not set in any kind of linear timeline.
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it? Not mine.
Every day is not a good day.
She knows this, knows that it is impossible for every day to go exactly the way she wants it to, and for her mental and emotional well being to remain stable. Despite that knowledge, these days when she seems to feel everything all at once always hit her hard, and leave her silently reeling with their force. These days, when all the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future come knocking at her door like the wolf in sheep's clothing, these days she has to actively fight to keep the shadows from devouring her heart. This is no small feat; sometimes, in guarded moments spent alone, she wonders if she has more demons and shadows than any single person has a right to claim. She is not the only one with a surplus of darkness surrounding her: her partner shares that unfortunate trait with her, but this doesn't reassure her. In fact, it only seems to make it worse.
Dana has always prided herself on being a very self aware human being. She understands herself, her motivations and desires and limitations. Outwardly, she may not look like someone given to deep self exploration, but she has always been this way. Humanity fascinates her – not always in the bright, shiny, happy people sort of way, either – and she has spent much of her life striving to understand why people do the things they do, why they are the way they are. This understanding begins with her, she knows, and so she has spent much time discovering the truth of herself. She is no Oxford educated profiler – nor does she believe that she ever could be, either – but she believes she possesses a more than basic understanding of herself and the people around her.
The exception, of course, being one Fox Mulder.
Now, of all the people currently alive in the world today, Dana knows that she alone can boast the accomplishment of knowing and understanding Mulder with any kind of certainty. As much as Mulder can be understood and known, that is. She has seen his passion for the search, their search, for that ever elusive truth. She has watched as he's thrown himself full speed toward the edge of every unseen but dangerous metaphorical cliff; she's even been the one to catch him, before he succeeded in taking that final leap. She's watched him alienate himself from the rest of the world, ostracize himself before his peers and those around him had the chance to do it for him. She has been there for him in just about every possible sense of the word, and she has more respect for him than probably any other person ever has.
That, however, does not mean that she understands his every driving thought and action.
Like what it is that urges him to run off, to literally disappear and leave her alone, even occasionally in harm's way, to chase some God forsaken lead on some God forsaken case with only what could be at best called a half truth.
Dana sighs and takes another gulp of her still too hot coffee, quietly relishing the slightly burning feeling as the hot liquid gushes down her throat. She's in the office, slouched lazily in the desk chair because she deserves this minute of downtime for chasing that crazy bastard all over Kingdom Come and back. She's disgruntled – more so than usual – and even just the thought of her exhaustingly passionate partner only exacerbates her already dark mood.
He's gone off without her again, and she truly doesn't even care what his reason is for doing it this time. She doesn't care what Mr. or Mrs. Crazier-Than-A-Crackpot Loon has told him to make him believe that he needs to just drop everything and run off to who knows where to find who knows what; she's fairly certain that they've reached the point where details like that matter. All that matters is that she's upset, she's alone, and she's beginning to wonder why the hell she even cares.
Not every day is a good day.
When they first became partners and started working together, Dana was awed by the passion that seemed to have an iron grip on her partner's spirit. She couldn't fathom how one person could be so wholly consumed by something, how they could devote every aspect of their life to something as ambiguous as "The Truth". In some ways, he'd even made her feel bad for herself: had she ever believed in something so completely? Was there anything in her life that she could even claim to be half so devoted to?
Then, as the years passed one by one in their unnoticeable way, Dana slowly began to realize that if there hadn't been something she was so devoted to before, there was now: Mulder himself. Somehow, in all their strife and despair and pain – shared or unshared, known or unknown – her passion and belief and faith found a home in her partner. Whether or not she believed his theories, she followed him; whether or not she believed he was right or wrong, she stood beside him. The man who had always stood on his own, alone against the forces of the world, suddenly had someone who cared.
As a young girl, Dana had once lamented on how nothing could ever stay the same; she had railed against time, against the inevitable changes it wrought upon not only your life, but the people therein. Her father, the wise Captain Ahab, had simply tousled her hair affectionately and told her in that deep bass voice of his "Time stops for no man, Starbuck". They were words that she had never forgotten, and to this day it is one of the most memorable things she remembers her father ever saying. True to her father's word, time had not forgotten Dana and her partner in its endless winding stream; rather, it had dragged them along as surely as it did the rest of the world, sometimes so stealthily that neither noticed its passage.
Now, years and endless journeys later, Dana's old nemesis seems to be catching up with her. She has changed – is changing – and the things that she wanted for herself and her life all those years ago have morphed into new desires, new goals. As time wears on, she's becoming more and more aware that Mulder's passion is becoming less awe inspiring and more tiring. After years of following him what literally feels like all over the very Earth, she's been noticing that she tires more easily. The fatigue is more than just bodily weariness, though; it's weariness in her very soul. She's faced evil in what could arguably be called every incarnation of the word; she's lost her sister to this quest, distanced herself from her family and any semblance of a normal life. She's battled cancer, been attacked, kidnapped and threatened, and she can't help but wonder when the end will come. What is the limit? How much more of this life can she take?
More recently, she's taken to wondering something even darker: why does she keep going? What is it that she's fighting for? Is she staying for Mulder – a man who has absolutely no qualms about leaving her at the drop of a hat, for little more than a suggestion that there might be something he should see related to his quest? Is she staying because she feels obligated to help him, to stick by his side instead of leaving like those before her? Or is it perhaps because she has become so mired down in this life, so accustomed to the fear and uncertainty that she simply doesn't know how to envision a life without it? She has given up so much for Mulder, missed out on so many things in her life … perhaps it is just that she stays now out of some obstinate pride. Whatever the case, Mulder's last desertion has her thinking that she may be close to that limit of hers.
She has entertained this inner dialogue for some time now – days, probably – and this is what has brought the shadows out of their recesses and into the forefront of her heart. She feels treacherous for even having these thoughts, as if allowing them to even take shape in her mind is the ultimate act of treason against her partner and the life they've built. If you can call this a life, anyway. At any rate, she hates feeling like she's betraying him; simultaneously, the vindictive part of her feels satisfied for the sense of betrayal that beats in her breast at this very moment.
The sharp trill of the office phone startles her out of her melancholy, and she's picked up the receiver and held it to her ear without actually being aware of doing so.
"Scully," She says automatically
"It's Skinner," Her boss answers gruffly, "Have you heard anything from Agent Mulder?"
"No, Sir, not since Tuesday."
"That was a full two days ago."
"I am aware of that, Sir," Scully responds, hoping the ice doesn't cling too thickly to her tone
"Hasn't he usually called you by now?" Skinner asks
Whether it's because her thoughts have taken such a dark turn in the last forty eight hours, or simply because under her trademark stoicism she's actually beginning to worry, Skinner's use of the word "usually" only pisses her off more. She hates that this has happened enough to warrant a "usually"; she hates that this has become so routine that even their boss knows how the chain of events should take place.
"Yes, Sir," She responds tightly, "And I'm sure that he has his reasons for not doing so this time."
She doesn't say "he has good reasons" for not doing so, because truthfully there are very few reasons that she would consider good enough to warrant him not calling her by now. The list is not a very long one, consisting mostly of things like death, sudden onslaught muteness, and complete incapacitation. None of those are things she wants to think about, however, so instead she maintains the anger.
"I want to know the moment he does," Skinner is saying through the receiver, "I have words for him when he gets back."
Take a number, she silently responds. "Yes, Sir," She answers instead
The other line goes dead, and she hangs up her phone only too happily. Her moment of rest is over; there are several things that Scully could be doing at the moment, and sitting idly lost in thought is not doing her (or her partner) any good. Whatever her doubts, whatever her thoughts, she will have to explore them later, when she has time and can afford to sit around for hours doing nothing. Right now she needs to start researching what little information her partner left her, follow all those other "too conventional" avenues that her partner would only be too happy to overlook.
And if she happens to think of a hundred ways to maim Fox Mulder as soon as she sees him again, and a hundred thousand ways to admonish him without so much as raising her voice, then so be it.