Raleigh, NC

Numbness held her in place. Without it she would have buckled over in grief. As she opened her eyes, she found nothing but horrible images before her. Scenes of Mulder being held against his will. She scrunched her eyes close as she tore away from the images in her mind.

As Mulder's coffin was lowered into the earth below, Scully held back the tears. Taking a deep consoling breath, she opened her eyes to look at the coffin.

"He was the last. His father and mother... his sister... all gone. I think the real tragedy... is that for all of his pain and searching... the truth that he worked so hard to find was never truly revealed to him." Her voice lulled at a somber tone.

Skinner looked over at her.

"I can't truly believe that I'm really standing here." Her voice broke into a choke.

"I know. And I don't truly believe that... Mulder's the last." Skinner consoled her.

Scully kneeled to the ground, trembling with sadness. She reached out for the earth and grasped at the dirt. As she crumbled it over the coffin, she broke down and found herself buried deep in Skinner's chest sobbing.

John Doggett watched her with a certain reverence. The way she carried herself; never showing her sadness. Even with the gossip that swirled around her as she walked down the halls and the whispers about Mulder and the secret identity of her unborn child's father. True she was only four and half months pregnant but for such a petite woman she showed and the rumors flew. Although he'd never understand her undoubting loyalty to Mulder's life work, he remained steadfast at her side.

He found himself not wanting to leave her side at all. The more he watched her the more he found himself just wanting to be near her. He desperately tried to push these thoughts out of his head, ashamed at himself for even thinking about Scully in such a way and so soon after the death of her partner. And yet the feelings persisted. Her sheer determination and brilliance subjected John to her. All the while, he kept his feelings at bay not wanting to cross that boundary.

The days passed by one by one always reminding Scully of her time alone. Each morning she awoke hoping she was dreaming and Mulder would be right by her side but each time she pressed her hand to the sheets she found nothing but an empty bed and an empty heart. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she felt compelled to end Mulder's quest and find the lies to the truth. That kept her working and her child kept her living. She could never find the words to thank John for staying by her side all this time; it meant the world to her.

Without him, Scully wasn't sure if she would have been strong enough to finish out quest for the truth. A truth that John wasn't even sure existed and yet he stayed. No thanks in the world would ever show him how much she needed him. A constant reminder of what she was before Mulder was taken from her. He was her conscience that kept her crazy accusations true and proof driven. The tables had indeed switched with Scully taking on Mulder's role and John being her science. She needed to be like Mulder in order to keep sane. Only now did she understand why Mulder had dove into his work the way he did. It kept all emotions away. But with her pregnancy half-way a realization that she had never thought of hit her point blank in the head; she would have to leave in a few months and then she would have all the time in the world to think about Mulder and the life they never finished together.

These thoughts consumed her mind. What would she do after her child was born? Would she want to come back and work at the F.B.I.? What would she tell her child when they asked about their father? All her worries and fears slowly ate at her until they enveloped her entire being. Scully became distant. She rarely called her mother. She closed off to the world. John noticed this behavior and began watching her more closely afraid of the distant she had built up.

She sat rigid in her chair instinctively clutching at her abdomen. Her lips taunt with aggravation. Her lips quivered with anxiety as the older gentlemen spoke kindly towards her.

"He left you everything Ms. Scully, his belongings and his insurance money. His apartment is still under lease but the owner has graciously offered to term the contr…"

"No." Scully breathed quickly, "No, I wish to keep it for the time being."

The man looked at her quizzically and shrugged, "Whatever you wish, Ms. Scully."

"I just need some more time."

Her eyes gazed past the burnished numbers that occupied the wooden door in front of her. 42. She hadn't been here since his burial. As she turned the key, her fingers shook. The stale air wafted past her nose reminding her of Mulder. Everything was exactly how she had remembered it. She had yet to touch anything but his fish. The Mollies were now permanent residents of her humble abode which to their luck was better; they had all survived. Scully made her way into the living room and into his bedroom where she had left his clothing still piled around the room. Her senses thrived with the textures of his belongings; his shirts, his comforter, his light switches. Being here stirred up everything she had sought so long to hide. Feeling woozy and overworked, Scully left his apartment quickly.

Scully grasped onto her door handle as though it were the only thing solid in her life. She fumbled into her apartment as the tears ran freely splashing her face with harsh sadness. Lying down on her bed, she took in hard, choked breaths of air trying to compose herself long enough to glance at the clock. It read 10:52 am. Skinner knew of her appointment this morning with the attorney and had suggested that she take the entire day off but she dismissed it saying it wouldn't be that long. Now she wished she had taken it. Reaching out for the phone she dialed the numbers.

Skinner made the usual trek down to the basement. He had expected her call before she had ever even made it. He had no reason to expect her to show up today. This was the last leg of her journey in letting go of Mulder and he wanted it to go as smoothly as possible. He cleared his throat as he walked up to the office Doggett and Scully shared.

"Sir, what brings you down here?" John asked as he looked up from his files.

"I just wanted to let you know that agent Scully just called. She said she isn't feeling up to working today."

"Understood, is she okay?"

Skinner furrowed his brow, "I think today reopened some wounds she hadn't faced quite yet. Maybe you should check up on her." Skinner suggested.

"Will do; thanks." John stood up and walked out towards the elevator.

Even the most brilliant of people find themselves in situations where they feel so low that anything is better than living; Dana Scully found herself in that very predicament. All hopes and aspirations she had once lived for were now shrouded in a dark and gloomy blackness. In an instant, nothing mattered anymore to her, not her baby, not her job, not even John. She just wanted to feel nothing at all. In a blur, she stumbled down the hall towards the kitchen. Her fingers fidgeted with the handle to the drawer. A wave of nausea spilled over her as the cool metal iced her hand. She pulled out one of the razor blades she kept in the utility drawer of her kitchen. Still trembling, she watched as it glinted in the light of the kitchen. This was it. She didn't want anymore pain, no nothing. Scully did the most desperate thing a person could do; she cut her own wrists in an attempt to escape the darkness but all she found was more darkness…

TBC…