This is the end
She is tired of the insipid "Dana," when has he ever called her Dana?
Doggett and Reyes—she never stopped calling him Agent even after a year or however long it was.
Mulder. She doesn't think she called him Fox more than once. If she did, she knows it didn't matter.
Scully. Scully, she thinks, that is my name. Dana is dead.
Dana has been dead for a long time.
She thinks her mother is the only one who truly notices. Her mother who watched her scream for her child and for Mulder and for pain as she was thrown across the room, as she kicked in a door and destroyed a man for touching her baby.
Scully knows her mother watched that display and wished she were dead instead of lying and faking all of the time.
And now he was back. Mulder, in the flesh. And to make everyone happy, to make everyone thrilled that they've gotten her beloved back, she feigns more. Feigns she's happy, pretends everything will be beautiful now that she has her Mulder back.
In her own head, it is impossible to pretend that having Mulder back will replace a life of happiness and calm.
In her head, she never sleeps, and screams instead. She screams at Mulder, screams that she would rather die than spend her life running. Because days will become eons, and their chatter will stop. They have said everything worth saying, and they have left no rock unturned. They communicate without words, and she is so sorry.
This story comes with no happy ending. Their relationship was always tragic. She knew it when she began.
Dana Scully regrets everything.
And she knows any story will have her happy, fighting till the end, content in a new world she survived.
And she will know that the stories will be false.
So when Mulder tells her he didn't wish the truth on her shoulders, because he feared it would crush her spirit, she wanted to laugh
She wanted to scream, wanted to strangle him, wanted to die in the throes of feeling instead of numbed pain and grave anger. Because how dare he, how dare Mulder, tell her that she did not deserve the truth after he had abandoned her. After she had given up her child, after she had lost her sister, after she had been abducted.
How dare he keep from her what she had already died seeking.
But it is the last part she laughs about.
She thinks, Oh Mulder, you crushed me years ago, and wants to hit him, kiss him, and beat him senseless until the blood runs cold under her tiny fists.
But Dana Scully is dead.
Only she remains. And she doesn't care enough to bother.
He moves on to the bed and he holds her in her arms. She does not struggle and instead looks into his eyes and lies to him.
There is no hope.
And she thinks that later, in the years of running and hiding and silence, there will be warm bathtubs, high cliffs and razors; guns and pills and pillows.
She need only wait till one strikes her fancy.
(she has always loved warm baths)
Dana Scully regrets so much.
Scully knows it is all her fault.
She understands the reality she knows now is hers alone.
In a dark room, a naïve man holds a woman who pretends she is living.
In a dark room, the world has already ended.
This was never a fairytale, and it never had a happy ending.
This is the end.
A/N: The X-Files are not mine.
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