Life Goes On
By Semper Mea
Chapter Four
Author's Notes: Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I know I promised this chapter weeks ago, but apparently, reality has a way of getting in the way of our intentions. Between work and school and play practice, I've had zero time to write. My muse and I, however, have decided to sneak around the restrictions of real life to work on this. Thanks for your feedback!
In all honesty, I'm not quite sure how I ended up here. One minute I was sitting in the hotel room, looking for something to do, and the next, I was outside in the snowy street, hailing a cab. At least I haven't forgotten that.
That was over twenty minutes ago, and it's getting colder by the second. The snow is falling at an alarming pace from the sky, and the usually busy street is deserted at this early hour. I've been looking up at the building for what seems like a lifetime, and, despite the numbness in my extremities, I can't seem to find the courage to step inside.
I wonder if Mulder's down in the basement, working diligently on some odd case or another. Three years ago, I would have bet money on it, but now, I'm not so sure. He was right; three years is a lifetime. Who knows what has changed?
I shiver, my heavy woolen overcoat beginning to become damp from the snow. My eyes slowly track up to a light in a window I know only too well.
A snowflake lands in my eyelashes, and the melted water trickles slowly down my face. Somehow, I just can't manage to wipe it off.
My eyes are beginning to drift closed as I stare blankly at the computer screen. The words written there ceased to make sense to me hours ago, and yet, I continue to try to decipher them.I glance at my reflection in the mirror over my desk; tie askance, eyes ringed with the deep purple of fatigue, I paint the picture of exhaustion. I consult my watch and realize with a jolt that it's nearly three in the morning; I know I should go home. It's just that I no longer have anything to go home to.
My office is a mess. Food wrappers, papers, and discarded clothing are piled everywhere. Hell, it's a wonder I can find anything. I've never been one for organization, but even I have to admit this is ridiculous. For a moment I absently wonder exactly how I'm going to explain the red ketchup stain on the report I'm scheduled to file in the morning, then I remember - it is morning. I'm so tired. I just wish I could sleep.
Sitting in the plush office chair, I long inwardly for the days when I got out in the field and actually investigated cases, instead of the bureaucracy, who's-in-charge-of-who, bullshit. The heart and soul of this job, the life of a good cop, condensed down into a massive pen and ink mess that, once you're in, you've got to be forced out. And I'm too damn stubborn to allow them the satisfaction of that.
A knock sounds softly on my door, and I jump slightly. It's three in the morning, I remember. Who, exactly, would come knocking at my door at three in the morning?
I stand, quickly shoving some trash under my desk. Whoever it is, I'm sure they won't appreciate the state of my office. As if I cared anyway.
I pull open the door, prepared to let loose an impressive string of expletives when I stop cold, my words dying in my throat. That red hair, those blue eyes; things I'd thought I'd never see again. "Scully?" I choke out, my tone incredulous.
"Sir, I - " she trails off, her gaze settling somewhere in the vicinity of my ill-knotted necktie. "Could I have a word with you?"
My eyes glance quickly toward the windows of my outer office. The hallways, now dark and gloomy, appear deserted. Mulder has, undoubtedly, long since gone home, but in the off chance that he's still around, I don't want him to see her here. I want her to go to him. I guess I'm still a believer, however reluctantly, in fairy tales, which most certainly makes me a bigger sucker than Mulder ever was. "Yeah, sure. Come in." I motion broadly with my arm, inviting her to step inside my inner office. "This is an unexpected surprise, Agent Scully," I throw out over my shoulder, forcing a modicum of professionalism into my voice.
As she settles into one of the chairs in front of my desk, and I into my own, I am struck by the familiarity of this scene. "Agent Scully," I begin, wishing I could figure out how to force everything I know she needs to hear into words.
"As I'm not with the Bureau anymore, sir, the 'Agent' title isn't necessary, nor is it probably appropriate." Her faint smile seems sad, but I've yet to determine the reason behind this uncharacteristically unannounced early morning visit. Not that I ever could quite put my finger on either her or her quirky partner; who has, however, become significantly easier to read in the past three years.
I nod at her curtly. This is when she is supposed to realize that I'm no longer a superior or an authority figure, but rather, a friend that she can confide in. "I am curious, Dana. Shouldn't you be bringing a special guest for me to meet?"
Her faint smile broadens slightly. "Dylan is, at the moment, sightseeing. And, I know that I asked you if you'd walk me down the isle in two weeks - "
I flash her a quick smile, just a slight upturn of my lips. "I'd be delighted to have that honor."
"And I thank you again, sir, but . . ." she trails off, her gaze falling unceremoniously to her lap. "Dylan and I have mutually agreed that a wedding would not be in our best interests."
My eyes widen, and I fight to contain my surprise. I'd always figured Scully would be one of those people who committed wholly and completely. "What happened?" I wonder aloud, not stopping to think that, perhaps, it wasn't any of my business.
Eyes downcast, she pulls a folded section of paper from her jacket pocket. "It's why I'm here, actually. I received this in the mail two days ago." She leans across my desk to hand me the well-worn sheets of paper, and I carefully unfold them; somehow sensing that they are of infinite importance. This is confirmed by the nearly illegible scrawl filling the lines; unmistakably Mulder's handwriting. I look up at her sharply and she nods, giving me permission to peruse the letter at length.
I am shocked at the forwardness expressed in the letter, which confirmed nearly every suspicion I'd ever had regarding Mulder. He was a fool, I think, to have let her walk away. If I'd have been in his shoes, I'd have done everything in my power to get her back, the consequences be damned. I'm appalled at Mulder's cowardice. I look up at Scully with an ironic smile twisting my face. "It's just like Mulder to give up now, in a letter like this."
Her brow furrows at my words. "What do you mean? I don't understand." Her puzzled expression pierces my heart. She really has no clue what she's done to him.
"After you . . . left, Mulder sort of fell apart." I begin, trying to soften this blow that I know will be hard for her to take. "I'd never seen him that way before. Not even when you were taken; he'd had something to hold on to then, you know? He'd been comforted by the fact that you'd been abducted, as awful as that sounds, but he was fueled because he'd had you to look for.
"This time, you'd left by your own free will, and he just couldn't take that. I know that, in the beginning, he'd held out hope that you'd come back. But as time wore on and he realized that you weren't coming back, he became . . . bitter, almost. He just stopped caring, about everything. That little light inside of him just kind of died."
I look up at her, and she reminds me for all the world of a lost little girl. I wish I didn't have to say all of this, that there wasn't more to this awful story I was being forced to tell. But I know that she needs to hear it, all of it, so that maybe she can understand. Maybe she can do what I failed to do. Maybe she can save him.
"I did everything I could to try and save him, Scully, I did - I dangled the cases he would have jumped at before, the kind of cases they never wanted him to have, right under his nose. Nothing. He didn't even bat an eye. Finally, he requested a transfer. He said that the X-Files were dead to him, all of it was dead, that nothing mattered. I didn't have a choice, so I transferred him.
"I kept the X-Files open, by some miracle, and forced Mulder to choose the new agents. I told I'm I'd be monitoring their progess to make sure they were performing up to par and that the unit wasn't infiltrated by the Consortium. He said that he didn't even care anymore.
"It's been . . . tough, I think. I keep trying to reach him, but nothing works. The only one that can get through to him is your mother. Thank God for her; who knows what would have happened to him otherwise."
Realizing that I was finished, Scully reluctantly lifts her gaze to meet mine, and the tear tracks marring her pretty porcelain face are painfully apparent. "How could I do this to him?" Her whispered words are like a shout. "To us? Over something so stupid?"
I wish I could fix this. Just turn back time and make everything alright again. "The important thing is that you're here now. I know it'll take a while to build back up the trust and the friendship, and I'm sure it'll be hard to ignore the fact that he loves you, but . . ."
She interrupts me, her harsh tone shattering the quiet of my office. "Don't you understand? This is so ridiculous! We've been running around in these pointless circles, hoping that maybe we'll be able to keep our feelings hidden under the surface. I wanted to keep everything hidden under that stupid mask I wear; hidden from him so I wouldn't have to face the sting of rejection, hidden from you so I wouldn't have to deal with all the damn complications and pointless regulations. Then, come to find out, three years later, that he felt the same way! That, no matter how I try to forget, that it just won't leave!" The hysteria bubbling just beneath her usual calm exterior is really beginning to scare me.
Before I can say anything, she stands abruptly. "I - I have to go. I really . . ." She looks around wildly, as if she were trying to find something. "Really appreciate you talking to me, but I - I just can't take this anymore." With that cryptic statement, she quite literally runs out of my office.
I'm not surprised, really. Scully's never been one to loose control in front of me and then stick around long enough for me to help pick up the pieces. That was always Mulder's job. I can't help wondering who's there for her now, without him. I can only hope that this particular fairy tale has a happy ending.
Author's Notes: Aww, who knew Skinner was such a romantic? Lots more to come with this one, as long as real life cooperates. Please review! I won't make any promises about when I'll update next, but I'll try to make it soon!