A/N Don't own any of it, if I did, I would most gladly own Mulder. Bree Sharp didn't write that song for nothing! This is written after my first X-files binge in 9 years, and I've only seen 8 eps since then, so if it's slightly OOC, don't flame me. But I don't mind any feedback! Go ahead and flame, just not on OOC-ness, I tried my hardest to keep it in character to.
The light. All he could see was the light. It was brilliant enough to blind him, and he had to raise his arm to block his eyes. His brown hair fell in his face, hiding his face even more. He heard the sounds of voices, and tried desperately to find the source. He felt someone-something, beside him. He fought to turn around, and found that he couldn't. He was frozen in place. Suddenly, as quickly as it all began, things went black.
***
She looked at the body once again. It couldn't be, it had happened before, and he was fine. But for all purposes, for all scientific reason, Fox Mulder was dead. And now, now he lay, another corpse on her examining table. They hadn't wanted her to do the autopsy, but she felt she had to.
And what she found was damning. She always had been so skeptical, she never fully believed what he said, but now, now she believed fully. And she regretted not trusting him. She regretted not believing what he said. Perhaps, just maybe, if she had, he would be alive. Maybe if she had, it would be someone else, and he would be there, next to her, awaiting what she said, as he had countless times before.
But she hadn't. And there he was, on the table in front of her. His normally tan skin was pale, the pallor of death. When she opened his eyes, the once soft, forgiving brown eyes were dull, glassy and distant. She ran a hand across her face, before sitting down, fighting back the tears in vain. As she sat there, staring at the cold steel table, she felt the tears slide down her cheeks.
***
He awoke with a start. He looked around, trying desperately to find out where he was. Instantly, he recognized it. Scully's examining room. The place he had gone to countless times before, to learn whatever she had learned. He heard the sound of a sob coming from the corner and looked up to find Scully sitting there crying.
He got up and walked over to her, gently placing an arm around her shoulders, attempting to comfort her. But it was almost as if what he did went unnoticed. "Why? Why you? Why now?" She sobbed. He didn't know why she was crying, until he looked up to follow her gaze.
There, lying on the autopsy table, he found an all too familiar face. His own.
He stared, shifting his gaze between the autopsy table and Scully. He waved his hand in front of Scully's face, trying to get any form of a reaction out of her. when he didn't, he walked back to the autopsy table, and looked at the body.
It felt so odd to him to be staring at his own body. He brushed a lock of hair off of the corpse's forehead, but found it to fall back as if he hadn't even touched it. He walked over to the light switch, and switched it off. It flicked off, and then suddenly back on, but Scully gave no sign of noticing. It was as if what he did was unnoticed by anyone else, as if what he did was unnoticed in the psychical world. It was almost as if he was a ghost.
***