disclaimer: not mine, don't sue
They spent the rest of the day getting to know each other.
They did that, and they rediscovered things.
For instance, they went to a gas station to get him a bag of sunflower seeds.
And they walked along Lake Michigan for her. They held hands along the way, but that didn't have anything to do with what they had done that morning.
Their hands fit together.
He bought her dinner.
Again, not because of what they had done that morning.
Because he missed those times where he bought her dinner and they ate in front of her TV watching some stupid movie that he picked. They didn't sit in front of the TV, though. They ate their Chinese take-out at the very end of Navy Pier. He said he needed to go there with her to erase the bad memories his mind was already associating with that place.
They missed their convention.
They missed the wine and cheese reception.
They missed the tower of furniture.
They did not miss their respective partners.
They were exactly alike.
"Mulder, can I ask you a question?" Scully inquired as she poked through her lo mein.
"Yeah, sure," he said, almost spilling soy sauce on his pants because he whipped his head up so quickly. There was a time, about two years prior, when he would have continued wrestling with the Chinese condiment instead of giving her his full attention. Things were different now.
He didn't have the right to take her for granted anymore.
"Do you think that if I hadn't left that we would have made it to this?"
It's a good question. One he thinks he knows the answer to. How many things can he really know, though? She did leave. He didn't have the opportunity to find out whether or not things would have run their course and he would have ended up doing the unthinkable (well, maybe not unthinkable, as in never thought of) with her on the bed in his hotel room. They had been separated by space and time and their own selfishness. He wanted to believe that they would have made it to that point, sooner rather than later (because he also likes to think that if she had stayed, he would have shown her how much she really meant to him that night), even if she hadn't left. But the fact was that he didn't know. And he couldn't lie to her.
Not anymore.
He was done lying.
"I'm not sure, Scully. We led each other around in circles for a long time. And while I like to think that I would have changed once I was reminded of how precious you were-- correction, are-- to me and told you, but I'm not sure. I would have wanted to, but…"
"We were so afraid of losing our friendship," she finished for him.
Precisely.
And in the process, they had lost something much more important.
"I wish I didn't have to say that, but it's the truth."
"I understand, Mulder. If you had asked me the question, I'm sure I would have said the same thing."
"No you wouldn't have," he smiles.
"You think I wouldn't have told you the truth?"
"Not really that, per say, but you're a hopeless romantic, Scully."
"Hold on, Mulder, I hardly even looked at men while we were on the X-files."
"That's not what I mean, Scully."
That's not what he meant at all.
"What do you mean, then?"
"I understand that you were basically a nun while we worked together, but I know you better than that, Scully. I know you're obsessed with finding your true love… your Prince Charming with the white horse who will sweep you off your feet and take you to live happily ever after someday," he told her, and it was surprisingly hard not to think of himself as that Prince Charming.
That was because of what they had done that morning in part, and partly because of their history.
He had a history with this woman. He had a history with the one woman he had thought was going to be in his life forever. He didn't want a history with her.
He had a history with Phoebe.
He had a history with Diana.
But he had always liked to think that he had a present and a future with Dana Scully.
"That is so cliché, Mulder," she laughed. She couldn't take offense because it was true. At least somewhat true. While she wasn't obsessed with finding the man of her dreams, she knew she had incredibly high standards and expectations when it came to how they treated her.
They would not treat her like her three previous partners in Salt Lake City.
They would not treat her like her brother Bill.
They might treat her like Mulder did, only after awhile, though. She had to get to that level. It only made sense to her that there was a level in which surprisingly only Mulder had seemed to be able to pass.
"It's true, though!" he laughed with her. It felt so good to laugh again. Since she had been gone, it had taken a lot to make him laugh. Nothing seemed worth laughing about. He needed to save his energy for more important things.
Like breathing.
Like eating.
Like missing her.
When he laughed, it felt as if he were opening up an old chest. All the dust came flying out, and he was soon doubled over, far past the point of no return.
And amongst all that he was feeling for himself-- the awakening of his emotions-- the best feeling he got at that moment was hearing her laugh. He remembered when he used to do the craziest things in order to get her to laugh.
He should have done more.
Mulder remembered how her laugh had been enough to bring him out of his darkest despair. Her voice was one thing, but her laugh was so rare and precious that he felt that his life goal should be to bottle it. Keep it so that he could hear it whenever he liked.
Scully did not give up her laugh easily.
But it came out just as freely as Mulder's. And they sat there, on the end of Navy Pier, tears running down their faces.
A few people looked over, wondering about the two crazy Chinese-eating-even-though-they-weren't-in-Chinatown people on the pier and what they were laughing at.
The lake laughed with them, the unruly waves splashing water at them.
The lake wanted to play.
But the fates and the gods of love were done playing with them.
He set down his food (never to be picked up again) and took her hand (never to be let go of again).
"How is it that the one person I wanted never wanted to hurt, I can hurt so much?" she asked him, her tears becoming real and more frequent. She didn't want to cry. She hadn't cried for so long, not really.
"Sometimes it's the one person you don't want to hurt that you can hurt the most easily."
It was a line out of a movie. She didn't know exactly which one. Maybe the movie of their lives. But
Real
Life
Is
Not
Like
The
Movies.
That thought scared her. After all, wasn't her life the perfect movie? Boy and girl find each other but don't realize it. They run around chasing after each other until their love becomes too much. They leave each other, only to be reunited under the silliest circumstances. Then they pretend like there wasn't a past and move forward.
Being a hopeless romantic, if she had been writing their movie, she would have written a happily ever after. But Dana Scully knew that
Real
Life
Is
Not
Like
The
Movies.
Did that mean that no matter what she wrote into their movie, real life would spit out the exact opposite? That's what it had done so far. Then maybe she would write them a different ending. An opposite ending. Maybe she would leave him right there on the pier for another two years before she was called back to Washington for his funeral.
She couldn't chance that, though. Perhaps she wasn't doing the writing.
Perhaps the fates or the gods of love that were done playing were writing the movie. Make up your mind, Dana! they screamed at her, Do you love him or not?
She knew she loved him. He knew he loved her. She knew that he did and he knew. He knew that she did and he knew. There was no doubt of their love for each other (not even amongst the people who watched them laugh). There was, however, doubt for the quality in which they could have a relationship based on their history.
They had a history. A history that would undoubtedly affect their present and future.
We are nothing without our past.
Their history stood like a wall between them. Even as they had made love, they could feel the wall. And they were scared it would never go away.
"I never want to hurt you like that again," she confessed, although it isn't much of a confession. He knows that she knows and he knew.
"But these conventions can't last forever."
"I will eventually have to go back to Salt Lake, and you will eventually have to go back to D.C."
Moving in different directions, separately.
When they had been in sync, everything had been so right.
Where had they fallen from, these angels? What blight in the heavens had forced them away from their guiding light? Away from each other?
"We will eventually have to continue our lives without each other."
Scully hated the sound of without, but it blasted like a symphony in her ears when he was not around.
"I don't think I can do that," she whispered, leaning into him. His smell overtook her again, and she happily wrapped herself in it.
His arms, solid and easily secured, could not hold her tight enough. It was as if he were trying to absorb her. After all, Mulder could be quite a selfish person.
"I don't think I can either," he confessed. They were good at confessing things the other already knew. It was sort of a confirmation that they were on the same page.
Different people walking along the pier that day noticed them, but not for their laugh. There are many sights and sounds one is introduced to while walking along the streets of Chicago, but there is hardly anything for one to feel. Yet they could feel the love and warmth and overpowering sorrow that enveloped those people.
Those people who were not eating-Chinese-even-though-they-weren't-in-Chinatown people.
Those people who were desperately-holding-onto-each-other-and-not-letting-go people.
this chapter was really emotional and long... i think it's the best one yet. tell me what you think!
