Title:
"Left Behind"
Author:
Dantzi Jean
E-mail:
phantom_lass@hotmail.com
Website:
"My Voice in the World of Fanfiction"
http://www.geocities.com/myxfvoice
Rating:
PG-13, adult content, death
Category:
short story, Scully Angst, MSR, Mulder death
Feedback:
Oh god, please people, I live on the stuff.
Timeline:
Six months after Mulder's death, no baby exists...yet
Spoilers: A
small, tiny mention of FTF
Disclaimer:
Everything mentioned pertaining to the X-Files and its
characters
does not belong to me and I am not profiting off its use.
Archive: If
you want it please ask for it. Thanks!
Summary:
For she too must face the fact that eventually we all are...left
behind
Author's
Notes: Okay, people I know I swore never to write main stream
fanfic but
this is a monolouge I perform and it only occured to me last
night to
turn in into a fanfic, the monolouge is original although not based
in real
life. As to the death of Mulder, I know for a fact that it is not
true and
despite what we may see in future episodes he is dead in this
world. Also
in this fic Scully's child does not yet exsist and there is not
mention of
it here. Everyone Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Left
Behind"
She placed
a heeled foot on the
hard
pavement and lifted herself
from the
vehicle. The familiar and
heavy
weight already pressing down
on her
small, frail shoulders. The
mist in the
air enveloped her and
brushed her
face as a lover's caress.
Her heels
gently rapped on the ground,
the only
sound of her coming. She
opened the
gate and walked to the morbidly
familiar
spot. Her heels sank into the
ground as
she walked; the damp, wet
grass
leaving stains on her black shoes.
Her face
was a mask; she was dead, cold,
unfeeling,
blank, barren, and lifeless.
She carried
nothing but the world. The
heavy
burden of her sadness making her
weary, the
darkness under her eyes and
her slumped
shoulders were the only
testament
to her grave load.
She
approached the well-known spot in
the small
cemetery where his headstone
stood. A
silent testament to the thriving
life that
it represented.
Her arms
crossed and her face grave she
addressed
the stone lying silent in
the ground,
"Six months...six months
you've lain
in that coffin, six months
since your
funeral, six months since
your
death." Her fists clenched at her
sides at
her thoughts. "Six, long, hard,
painful,
months."
"I
stand here knowing that somewhere
underneath
that pile of dirt, you lie.
I know
you're there. I couldn't stand
here if it
weren't true. Mulder..."
She knelt
to the ground where his
headstone
stood, silent and unmoving.
"I see
your headstone. Beautiful granite
with your
names and dates carved
beautifully
into them."
Then, she stood
as if the headstone were
disgusting
and repulsive. "And even a
little
passage that you now reside in
peace. That
you are now in a better place.
Peace?! You
are in peace? A better place..."
"How
is it that you can lie there in peace
while I am
in hell?! Oh yes, Mulder, hell.
I am in
hell. I see the mourning faces of
the people
we knew. I see the sorrow and
pity in
their faces, in their eyes. That,
to me, is
hell, Mulder. I face these people
every day;
I have to see this every day.
And it
tears me apart knowing that the
look I
witness is there because you are
no longer
by my side."
A slow
gentle tear flirted with her eye
but she
held it back, pride forcing a
barrier
around her heart. She stood back
and took a
breath, trying desperately to
keep her
fragile composure.
"You
took everything from me, you left me
blind,
deaf, lost. I can't find anything
to fight
for. You left me with no drive,
no passion,
and no direction. I cannot
trust
myself anymore. But not only did you
take these
things from me, Mulder. You too
my heart
from me, as well. And now here I
stand, an
empty shell of the woman you knew."
Her voice
sounded dejected but determined
at the same
time. She knew of her monumental
burden and
prepared herself to shoulder
it alone.
"Why
must I go through this? Why did you
have to
sacrifice yourself? You should
have
sacrificed me to your quest; it was
as much
mine as it was yours. Did you
know that?
Or did you feel that you were
alone? I
never really knew. Why did you
make me so
devoted to you?" Her voice
lowered to
almost a whisper. "Why did you
make me
love you?"
Silence
greeted the woman standing at the
grave. It
haunted her; teased her. And made
her fully
aware of her pain.
"You
should have taken me with you. We were
partners.
That coffin should have been mine."
Her voice
was filled with reproach and disdain.
The mist
coated the woman's face and hands
as she
stood on the damp, cold ground. Her
face was a
mask of pain and longing.
"Mulder,
I was no meant to exist without
you. I
should not be here, I have no right.
This was
your quest and your life's work,
and then
you made it mine. You had no right
to take
that away from me, it was my life's
work, my
crusade. And now..." She paced not
knowing
exactly what to say. She was lost,
completely
lost.
"I saw
you walk away from me, Mulder.
I saw you
go to place I could not go. I
would dare
no go. You walked away from me,
I saw you
slowly moving further and further
into that
dark place. You didn't look
behind you
to see me, I was still there,
lost...waiting...alone.
And you left me.
You left me
behind! You left me to face
life, a
life I could no longer have without
you. I knew
that after Dallas, after your
daring
crusade to find me and bring me back.
I could
never leave your side. I never
considered
you might leave mine."
With this,
the tear that held the fragile
balance on
her eyelid escaped and in an
angry
gesture, she wiped it away with the
heel of her
palm. She was angry. Angry at
herself,
angry with him for doing this,
for his
damn quest.
"I
have one more question for you, Mulder.
And maybe
in some small way I already know
the answer.
Why is it, I still love you,
after you
left me behind?"
At her
words, she bent down the grave,
her palms
gently caressing the soft grass
beneath her
fingers, wet with dew and the
shower of
mist still falling. Her hands
moved in
slow and small circles as if
touching
the ground, which covered him,
would leave
her with some small measure
of a
response.
She rose,
quickly, as if afraid that if
she
remained too long she would not be
able to
leave. As she turned to exit the
cemetery,
she saw a dark figure in the
mist. She
moved toward it, knowing with
certainty
who and what the figure was.
The tall
man, who felt so responsible for
the loss
the small woman felt at the
moment
walked toward her, and up the grave.
He placed
his arm across her shoulders,
giving her
support.
She let him
lead her out of the small cemetery
and then
with slow, and heavy steps, she left
him behind.
***********THE
END*************************
