Title: And Then there were Tears

Title: And Then there were Tears

Rating: PG-13 for language and Adult content. LOTS of angsty stuff in here. YOU WERE WARNED!! I don't want any nasty grams saying that they didn't know of the material in this chapter. So, THIS LIVES UP TO ITS TEEN RATING!! Ther, I think that's sufficient.

Disclaimer: My initials aren't CC, but even if they were, I'm not swimming in a vault of paper bills, getting all the credit for creating this awesome show. And even if I was doing that, I wouldn't be writing this piece of fanfic, and here I am, writing this piece of fanfic. So don't sue me.

Feedback: Yes, Yes, Yes, and did I say YES!? (In other words, it would be VERY appreciated.)

Summery: Dana Scully is a teenager visiting her Uncle in Massachusetts. But then she meets a boy (humm…wonder who that could be) who raises questions about her deceased Aunt and her mute niece. And, most importantly, Dana's confusing quest of being a teen and becoming an adult.

Author's note: At the end

Chapter 4: Mulder's Story

"I need to know," she breathed, her voice soft and airy.

He nodded. "Then have a seat."

XXX

Dana walked over to him and sat down on the damp, cool sand.

Mulder sat down next to her. If he were any closer, their shoulders would be touching.

She felt a warm feeling creep up from inside her and wash over her whole body. It wasn't the tingly, hot feeling she got whenever Arthur Welling walked by her in the hallway, the hottest guy in school. No, this warmth was different, and she couldn't place it because she'd never felt it before.

Mulder stared at the ocean, watching the waves come up to his feet, but not quite touching. She watched him, knowing that his mind was slowly slipping from reality.

"I was living a make believe when I was twelve. That whole year of my life, I lived in my head. I guess I still do; I have nobody. But then…I just couldn't accept the facts.

"November 27, 1973, was when time stopped for me. My sister, Samantha, was taken from me. I still don't know what happened. I woke up in the hospital three days later, not remembering that night's events. But she was still with me for nearly a year. I simply couldn't accept that she was gone. I would sit in her room and pretend that she was in there, playing with her dolls, me just watching her.

"Soon after I turned thirteen, we had an early snow, and I went outside with my sled. 'Samantha', I called, 'Come with me.' Then I turned around…and she was gone. I realized for the first time that she really was gone, taken, never coming back.

"I sat down in the snow. I didn't move, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I sat there, my nose running, my mouth dry and my lips chapped. I could feel the cold eating at every part of my body, like I was being dipped in fire. I didn't tense or shiver, just let the cold seep into me. It felt like I was touching evil; touching death. It was oddly comforting.

"My mother found me and took me to the hospital, where they took all my clothes off and put me in a tub. My body temperature was virtually non-existent, but I pulled through. I stayed there for about a week, most of which I slept through. I couldn't stand reality anymore, and when I dreamed, I dreamed of her.

"We went home and I wasn't allowed to sleep. I had school. I had chores. So I decided that on November 2, 1974, I would fall asleep for the last time.

"I took a whole bottle of my father's sleeping pills, swallowed each pill one by one, crawled into bed and waited to die.

"My dreams…were indescribable. I defiantly took a trip of some sort. There were colors, colors and shapes that don't exist. Samantha was there, but not in her natural form. I truly believed I was in hell.

"My mother woke me up the next morning. I never heard her scream like that before. Never did again. She toted me off to the hospital, yet again. I must have been pretty yellow. They flushed me with fluids twice and pumped my stomach.

"My mother told them that it was an accident; that I must have mistaken them for vitamins.

"We went home. It was November 5th.

"I tried again.

"I got into my Dad's alcohol cabinet and drank a bottle of J&B and got halfway through his Crown Royal, which he had a lot of. I kept vomiting, so I kept drinking.

"When I simply couldn't consume anymore, I took my father's gun, loaded it, cocked it. I was afraid of the pain; that's why I drank all that alcohol to the point where I couldn't think, and I felt as though my stomach was being eaten from the inside out. I was drooling all over the place.

"I put the gun to my head and pulled the trigger. I was so fucking gone though that I shot myself in the shoulder; missed my head entirely.

"I woke up in the hospital a week later. The nurses and doctors stared placidly at me' there was no doubt any longer.

"My father was able to keep me from going to the nuthouse, and it's not on record that I was put on suicidal watch, but I was. I was hospitalized for sixteen months, twelve days, seven hours. During that time, my parents divorced, and I met your aunt Lidia.

"I was allowed to walk around the hospital after a time, and I no longer had the urge to kill myself. I decided that God wasn't going to let me die.

"I saw her walking around the lobby, looking at paintings. She looked strangely happy for wearing a hospital gown. I approached her, and she gave me the most beautiful smile. She knew nothing about me because she had just moved into the district to receive better care. She had recently been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

"We talked about everything, her and I. I never told her why I was there, but it didn't matter. She didn't pry into my life; just curious about it.

"She was so nice to me; she made me laugh, I made her laugh. I was with her when she received her treatments, when her hair fell out, when she ate and when she puked. I held her hair up as she wretched in the trashcan. I knew she always wondered why the doctors never gave me any treatments for anything, but she never asked.

"We were with each other all the time. She told me about her family. I never told her about mine; they were never there. When hers' was, however, I would hide. I didn't want to intrude and therefore watched from a distance. Hers' was the family I wanted, and had lost.

"She loved to write poems; I would read them and comment on them. They were always good and well written, but not always happy.

"When I was released from the hospital, I visited her every day, bringing her flowers, maybe a new notebook. Her health had taken a turn for the worst after I left, and all the doctors could do was try and weaken her more. Eventually, she could no longer write, and I felt as if I was dying with her.

"She held on for as long as she could, longer than the doctors even expected, but cancers' monster finally won. It took her beautiful life away, from the world, from her family, from me.

"I was with her that day, that bleak, January day that had no air. Nothing but rain, cold rain that you couldn't feel as it hit your body. She wanted me to open the window; she wanted to see the sun, but there was no sun to see.

"Her family wasn't there. Her husband was on a business trip, and the girls were at a relatives' house and they didn't arrive in time. Your uncle hates me because he wasn't the one the one to hear her dying words; I was.

"The twins came by with their aunt. They didn't understand why they couldn't enter their mother's room. I came out and Leslie came up to me. She asked, 'Are you the boy Mommy talks about?' All I could do was nod. She then asked, 'Are you her friend?'

I sat down and nodded. 'Where's my Mommy?'

"'She loves you, Leslie, and your sister. She's gone to a happier place, but you have to think of it as beautiful.' I held her hand. Her eyes were so big, full of wonder and innocence. 'Think of it as beautiful.' She repeated the words, as if trying to understand. After that, she never spoke again. Never.

"Her father arrived and entered the room. God, Dana, his cry; I lost it, it shattered air that had already been shattered. I broke, I ran, I screamed. I found myself in the playground, on that swing, crying insanely and uncontrollably.

"I cried for her, for her family, for myself. I never felt so alone in the world. But then I pulled out a folded piece of paper from my pocket, one of which I never went anywhere without, still don't. It was her poem, one she wrote specifically for me. She told me never to let anyone else read it, not until I found someone as special to me as I was to her."

He looked at Dana, his story finished. His eyes were a deep, blackish brown; his face wanting a response from her, half-expecting not to receive one.

She noticed she was holding his hand. He realized it at the same time and held it back.

She wanted to give him all of the sympathy in the world, but knew he didn't want it.

"I'm really glad you told me, Mulder. I'm glad you trust me."

He squeezed her hand and a sad smile grew on his face. She returned it.

"I'd really like it if you took me on that boat ride, if the offer still stands."

He laughed. He genuinely laughed since she'd known him.

"It still stands," he stated, a wide, toothy grin overtaking his face. Tears of…joy? Laughter?...stained his cheeks.

Dana took her other hand a wiped them away.

"I want to go tomorrow, or rather today. It is Saturday, right?"

He nodded.

"Okay, but can you take me home now?"

"Won't your uncle be mad if he sees us together?"

"He did say he would send me back home, but not before I tell him you're more of a man then he is."

"Dana…"

"It's the truth. If he resents you for being there for his wife when he wasn't, shame on him. He should have given you a ficken' medal, if not a handshake."

Mulder blushed slightly.

"You have to face him someday, Mulder. I'll be with you; I don't think he'll get violent if I'm standing right there. I'm cold, and I'd really appreciate it if you walked me home."

He raised an eyebrow, then got up off the ground, letting go of her hand, just to extend it to her again.

She took it and rose to her full height. He released her hand and took off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Okay, let's get you home."

And they walked down the beach towards the road together. They were not touching; there was no need. They were connected now, and both knew that neither one could leave the other.

Dana never had a friendship such as this, and suddenly knew what Melissa was missing out on.

XXX

Author's Note: I cried when I wrote this. I really did. I had to stop writing and walk away for a few minutes to calm myself down. I hope you didn't short circuit you keyboards by crying too much. Thanks to all who have reviewed and please keep 'em comin'. I will NOT post the next chapter until I get reviews on this one. I'm curious to see how I did. Thanks for reading!!