Title: Struggling
Category: X-Files XRA
Author: Singing Violin (Pearl on Ephemeral/Gossamer)
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters and universe are not mine.
Summary: What happens after the screen goes black in "My Struggle II"?
Archiving: Anywhere, just let me know.
Mulder's eyes betrayed the pain of his struggle to understand what was going on with his erstwhile partner and paramour. "Scully, talk to me," he begged softly.
She shook her head. "I've got to go."
He frowned before speaking. "No, Scully. Not until you talk to me. And besides, you're not going anywhere without my help."
Tears once again pricked at the corners of her eyes as, determined, she attempted once more to rise from the bed, but found her weak muscles confirming Mulder's assertion.
"I need to save your life," she insisted. Then, "Mulder's life," she corrected. "I don't know who you are—maybe you're a figment of my imagination—but Mulder's out there somewhere and he needs my help."
"I'm right here," he insisted firmly but gently. "Please, Scully, tell me what's going on." When she looked reluctant and afraid, he continued, "If I'm a figment of your imagination, then I'm here for a reason. I'm of some use to you. But you have to engage with me."
Her eyes grew wide at the word, causing his to sparkle with amusement as he clarified, "You know what I mean."
She sighed. "All right. I guess it can't hurt. After my mother died—."
He cut her off. "Whoa, Scully, I didn't know! I'm so sorry. When did this happen?"
She bit her lip, trying not to break down again at the devastating thought of her recent loss, compounded with the fact that she had just a few minutes ago given that and much more up once again, voluntarily. She attempted to focus, instead, on figuring out what exactly this apparition knew and wanted to know. "You were...Mulder was there for me. A few weeks ago. It wasn't exactly my finest moment, but he supported me through it."
Mulder's form eyed her curiously. "You sound surprised. You don't think I'd be there for you no matter what?"
She shook her head against the pillow. "Once upon a time, perhaps, but not now, not since we parted ways."
"Parted ways?" he queried incredulously. "After all we've been through together? Wh-why would we do that?"
She tried her best to remain composed and continue her story, lest she get bogged down in emotion and lose her train of thought. Figment or no, she was pretty sure this version of Mulder would, if she so much as indicated her need, gather her into his arms and hold her for as long as she wanted, which might be forever, and if another version of him still needed her, it was imperative she not allow herself such a distraction. "It's not important. Anyway, we reconnected professionally, but not so much personally, not until you helped me through...you know. But then, we had a tough case, terrorism. You took a hallucinogenic trip, and we were aided by a pair of young agents, Einstein and Miller. She was a medical doctor, and a skeptic, and he was a war hero and a believer."
He chuckled slightly. "Sounds like us...well, except the war hero bit. Did Agents Einstein and Miller have first names?"
She frowned, thinking. "I assume so, but we never learned them."
"Right," Mulder answered skeptically. "And then what happened?"
"There was a plague," Scully continued. "People started getting sick and dying. My blood was the key to the cure. But you'd disappeared, and as soon as I found you—you were in bad shape, and I wasn't sure if I could save you, but I had to try—a craft appeared overhead, and then I blacked out. When I woke up, I was with my mother, in this bed, in this room."
"I thought you said your mother died," Mulder replied.
"This was obviously another reality, a fabrication," Scully went on. "And it wasn't just my mother...Emily was there too. And William. And they were the ages they were when I last saw them."
Mulder's eyebrows crept up in surprise. "And you didn't want to stay with your family?!"
"Oh God, Mulder, I wanted to, more than anything!" she told him. "But I couldn't. They said you were dead...but obviously it was a ruse. I don't know why they wanted to trick me into the fantasy, but it almost worked."
"How did you get out?" Mulder asked.
Scully's eyes closed for a moment in contemplation before she replied. "I, uh, clicked my heels together three times and said 'There's no place like home.'"
"You're joking," Mulder shot back, laughing heartily. "I've seen 'The Wizard of Oz.'"
"Apparently so has the Smoking Man," Scully told him somberly. "And it was his idea. I thought it was a joke too...but obviously it wasn't, because here I am. With you."
Mulder's face contorted slightly with disbelief. "And you think I am the figment of your imagination? This all seems so farfetched, Scully...and that's coming from me."
"Or the version of you...Mulder...inside my head," Scully corrected. "Which, since it's part of me, maybe is more like me. Unless of course, I'm keeping a part of you...him...inside of me, in which case it should be more like you. God, I'm so confused."
"Then don't be," he insisted. "Just stay here and let me take care of you." With that, he grabbed her hand in his own and squeezed gently.
She was tempted: here, a reality in which she and Mulder had never split, her mother was presumably still alive, and they still shared this home together. She looked around again, and was reminded that this room, at least, did not belong to the home she had shared with Mulder once.
"No," she said, her voice tinged with sadness, though no animosity. "I'm not buying it."
He sighed, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. "What can I do to convince you?" he asked.
"Tell me the date," Scully insisted. "And explain to me how this room came to be here, since I have no memory of it."
She saw him swallow before speaking. "Honestly, I don't know the date. I stopped keeping track when I stopped having to go to work every day. I'm sure we can look it up, though. And as for this room, I have no idea why you don't remember it. It's yours."