Mulder was standing in the darkness, surrounded by nothing. There were no sounds, no smells, not even a thought in his head. There was nothing to do. He had no needs, no desires, no expectations.
Except for one thing.
This one thing permeated his whole being. His mind, body and soul were all overflowing with it.
It was guilt.
Pure, primal, enormous, never-ending guilt.
A speck of light appeared in the distance and he watched it grow and come closer, until a figure stepped out of it.
"It wasn't your fault," she said.
Her smile was calming and light radiated from her whole being. She was perfect. Just perfect. The sight of her brought tears to his eyes.
"It should've been me," he told her. "Not you. It should've been me."
"It wasn't you," she noticed, simply noticed.
"But it should've been," he insisted. "I was older. They already had me. They never should've let me go!"
"Ok," she accepted. "And what if it was you?"
"You'd be alive," he said with a lump in his throat. "Happy. Successful. Have a family. Or travel the world. Whatever you wanted. Anything you wanted."
"Just like you?"
"No. Not like me. You'd take out of life so much more than I ever did."
"And why not you?"
"I'm… I'm just a broken man. You had your whole life in front of you."
"So did you."
"You were just a child. An innocent child."
"So were you."
"I… Horrible things were done to me. Things my mind managed to suppress, but I kept digging and digging until it all came back to me… I grew up to become a ridiculed loner and outcast. I found the truth, but I never found peace."
"Why not?"
"Because…" he started to reply, but he couldn't finish, mesmerized by her beauty. She was so pure, so out of this world.
"Fox…" Samantha smiled, extending her arms towards him. "There's still so much you can do for me."
"Anything," his eyes filled with tears. He wanted to reach towards her, but he knew it wasn't possible. As close as she seemed, she was lifetimes away. She was out of this world, and he was in it, barely breathing underneath the suffocating darkness that entrapped his soul, even during his best moments.
"All of the things you wish I could've had in life," Samantha gently nudged him. "I want the same for you. Do it for me. For both of us. Live for the both of us."
"It's not fair. Not without you."
"It is the only way. You are the only link I have left with your world. With this life. We share a special bond, Fox. We've shared many lives together, but this one, this one was cut short. It's not the last one. It wasn't the first one. You didn't lose me, and you never will. It's just a short period, until we meet again."
"Samantha…" he watched her become blurry through his tears. At the same time, he was becoming aware of the chair he was sitting on, the table his head was resting on.
"I don't want to wake up," he pleaded as she faded. "There's so much I want to tell you. So much I… Samantha…"
But he was alone, awake, in his apartment. Betty was at school, and Scully at work. Loneliness was thick and sour, eating at his soul. Not knowing where he's going, he grabbed the car keys. He needed to get away, get some fresh air, anything.
Do it for me.
Those were the only words he remembered from his dream. He thought about them over and over again, as he mindlessly drove to nowhere.
It wasn't just a regular dream. He felt his sister's presence, her spirit, her smile… He thought about his childhood memories, how they played together and how they annoyed each other. Their parents were always distant and uninvolved, but at least they had each other.
Until they didn't…
Do it for me.
What exactly was he supposed to do? Even if he knew how to free his soul from its darkness, a part of him feared it would mean betraying Samantha's memory.
How do you heal the wound that's kept you alive for so long?
He looked at his watch, and seeing that there was enough time until he had to pick up Betty from school, he decided to drive to the cemetery.
Feeling a little embarrassed for coming empty handed, he walked towards the grave he visited at least once a year, but never alone.
When he reached it, he just awkwardly stood there for a while. He looked around, then crouched in front of the grave and started tracing the name with a finger.
Melissa Scully.
"I don't know why I'm here," he finally said. "But maybe you do?"
He chuckled. "I'm not making much sense, I know. But… When I met you, I was obsessed with revenge and lost in my anger and despair. You showed me another way… The way of faith… and friendship… I… I don't know if you can hear me, but if anybody can it would be you. You were good with… that kind of stuff… So… Maybe you could send me a sign? I'm lost again, Missy. And again, I don't know how to… express… my feelings… my desires… I don't know how to love her."
He looked around again, noticing the birds singing in a light breeze and people walking in the distance. The peaceful surrounding was a starch contrast to the never-ending pain inside him.
"I don't know how to love her," he whispered, lowering his gaze to the ground. He stayed like that for a few moments, before looking back at the grave.
"The last time we talked, you were yelling at me," he chuckled. "And I never had a chance to apologize for being so insufferable back then. So… I'm sorry about that. And I want to thank you… for… showing me what really mattered."
He checked his watch, then reached towards the headstone to brush off imaginary dust, as if he was moving a strand of hair from someone's face.
"I have to go pick up your niece now," he smiled affectionately. "I could bring her with me next time. We'll get you some nice flowers, to make up for not bringing anything today. I wasn't planning on coming… But I see Maggie got you covered."
He stood up and started walking towards the car, but then turned around one last time.
"Take care of my sister, would you? She was so young… So pure…"
That evening, Scully noticed a change in him. There was something raw and determined in the way he looked at her, something that made her blood boil. He was oddly quiet, didn't make jokes as usual, but whenever she caught him looking at her, she felt like a prey. It made her nervous, she became clumsy and dropped a few things, to Betty's delight.
"Mom, did you break another glass?!" Betty giggled, mocking her with pleasure.
Mulder just kept watching. He didn't offer to help her clean the broken glass, and she didn't dare to ask. His silence was contagious, and so distracting that Scully wasn't sure if she even remembered how to talk.
When they put Betty to sleep, he just placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the bedroom. Then he carefully closed the door behind them, pushed her onto the bed and started kissing her like there was no tomorrow.
Scully soon realized that nothing could stop him tonight, nothing but even the tiniest show of reluctance from her, so she was completely focused on not showing any.
But she was in a bed with a very talented profiler who knew her better than anybody else.
He felt her body tense, felt her discomfort, but he also felt her willingness and submission. There was no doubt that she was all in.
And so was he.
For the first time in his life.
"How bad is it?" he whispered, trying not to move, despite the overwhelming urge.
"It's not bad," she assured him. "It just… wasn't used for a while… Needs to… adjust…"
"How?" he asked. "What do I do?"
"Use it. Just… move. It's yours now…"
But he wasn't moving.
"Mulder," Scully urged him. "I need you to move."
He obliged, trying to finish quickly to spare her, embarrassed for enjoying it. But she told him to slow down.
That wasn't working well.
"Harder," she said.
"But… You said…"
"Slower, Mulder. But harder… Come on…"
It took a little while until he found the right rhythm and angle, but once he did he could feel her body relax and melt underneath him. Time didn't exist anymore. The world stopped existing as well. Nothing existed but Scully, not even him, he was just a part of her, a part that found it's way back to where it always belonged.
He knew at that moment that he was never meant to be with anybody but her. He could never want any other woman. Sex would always be just Scully.
Just Dana.
When it was over she pulled him down, let him rest his whole weight on top of her, like an anchor that she's always been to him. She held him and caressed him for a long time, despite the sweat, heat and stickiness.
"I love you," she whispered in a shaky voice, and those words left him speechless. He didn't dare to respond, just like he didn't dare to move, afraid of ruining the moment that he wanted to last forever.
It wasn't until he felt he was going to start dozing off that he finally rolled himself off of her. He missed her immediately, even though she was still lying right next to him.
For a moment, he wondered if this was just a dream, if he was going to wake up again, alone on his couch or a chair. Then Scully snuggled to him, placed her head on his chest, and as he wrapped an arm around her, he knew, nothing could be more real than that moment…
"So," he contemplated. "That's what I'm supposed to do with this thing!"
It made her laugh, and he laughed with her.