x FLEETING by Josh Schirmer In their darkest hours, they vowed to be there for each other. One personÕs time has come. The X-Files is ª and © 1998 20th Century Fox. Story ©1998 Josh Schirmer November 13, 2023 The hard, darkened rain fell on the barren field, matting itÕs thick grass to the soil, making the earth tender and vulnerable. It gave off a sweet aroma; the smell of the crispness of the autumn and the tenderness that only a rainfall can bring. It was a scent so powerful, so true, you could lose yourself within it; so strong and sweet you could become the rainfall yourself. It was everything and nothing all at the exact, same time. And best of all, it pushed down the smell of the gunsmoke. A lone figure stood in the field, only their silhouette visible through the rain drops. They carried neither an umbrella nor raincoat to shield themselves from the powerful storm. Instead, they clenched a small pistol, much like the one they had used in their line of duty years before. Slowly, the elder woman brushed her once auburn hair, now fading to a shade of gray, from her aging face; the sweet face that she still carried with her, something she hadnÕt bothered to lose along her way. At the moment, however, the face seemed to have aged years; it seemed tired and weary, alone. It was drenched wet, like the rest of her fifty-five year old frame, partially from the rain, but mostly from the tears. Dana Katherine Scully raised her elder hand, wiping away the salty water that clouded her eyes. She had always been the strong one; she could even recall a moment where her mother had said that to her, during her struggles with brain cancer. She had beaten that, however, among millions of other things along the tired, worn path she had chosen. But throughout all of the struggles she had faced, she had rarely found herself reduced to tears. Her hand shook as she lowered it back from her face towards the ground, the small pistol clasped within it. She looked towards the gun, then back towards the ground, and slowly shook her head, more tears exploding from within her eyes. The smoke drifted up into her nose, almost taunting her, teasing her, speaking to her. ÒLook what youÕve gone and done, Dana,Ó it smirked. ÒLook at what youÕve done.Ó Scully looked around the barren field, her eyes not able to focus on details from behind their wall of tears. It was a sight she hadnÕt seen for thirty years, but the memory was still clear. It seemed right that this would be the place for her to do what she had done; deep down inside, she knew it still was. Right now, though, she was having second thoughts on the whole thing. WhatÕs done is done, she told herself. The rain plodded down hard as she looked back to the ground in front of her; more specifically, the figure that lay slumped down in front of her. She stared into the dark, mysterious eyes she had stared into many times before. They seemed to stare right back. A trickle of blood flowed into them, from the wound on the forehead, blocking the stare. Scully looked away. What had she done? It had been the right thing to do, hadnÕt it? It was what should have been done, right? She questioned her every action, looking for answers she couldnÕt seem to find. That was unlike her; she usually had an answer for everything. ThatÕs what Mulder had always said, at least. The rain plodded down hard against the motionless duo, one standing, one dead. Everything was calm and sentient, just like it should have been. It was the way she had imagined it, and the way he would have wanted it. But was it right? Scully took one last look at the motionless, elder man, the blood dissipating within the falling water. His face still seemed to carry that smirk that it had years ago; one that she hadnÕt seen in forever. She sobbed deeply, and wiped the tears from her eyes once again. The dark eyes still stared right back at her. Slowly, she bent down, taking her shaking hand and placing it gently upon his face. She slid her fingers gently over his motionless gaze, catching her last glimpse of a stare she would never see again. A lone tear fell onto his cheek. She let it stay. Slowly, she closed his eyes for the last time. Scully gently placed the gun beside his forehead, the gun sinking into the damp soil. She continued to stare at that face, not wanting to let it go, but knew that it was finally time to say goodbye. She stood, turning, walking away from the dead man. It was the last time Scully would ever see the face of Fox Mulder. It continued to rain. * * * June 19, 1999 The large auditorium remained silent, minus the small clicking that his shoes made as he approached. He felt the heat within their gaze, the pressure tighten among him, but didnÕt let it show. He was good at that; not showing emotion. After all of his years in his line of work, he had to be good at it. Fox Mulder stared directly ahead, straight into the eyes of a face he knew too well. Suddenly, he felt nervous and disoriented. A small drip of sweat ran from beneath his chestnut hair. He quickly wiped it away and tried to shake the feeling. It didnÕt work. He approached the large table, feeling everyoneÕs evil stares. It was something Mulder had been come used to, the awkward stares. He got them a lot from people. After all, he was ÒSpookyÓ Mulder, right? Anyone who gets the nickname ÒSpookyÓ deserves stares, right? He winced. ÒSpookyÓ. It was a name he had grown to despise. Mulder was convinced he hated it because it mocked him, but he knew the truth as well as anyone. He hated it because it rang truth. And truth was not something he came upon too easily. His briefcase in hand, he finally made the long journey to the seat that awaited him. The eyes he stared at stared directly back at him. He felt a sweep of hatred come over him, and suddenly found himself wincing in the personÕs direction. It summed up everything: all of the pain he felt inside, all of the evil that surrounded him, everything he had dealt with in those last six years. It was a glare he would never forget. And neither would she. Mulder pulled the chair out, sitting down hard, and found himself face to face with those eyes that bore their way deep down inside of him. He stared into them. They stared right back. It was a dark silence between the two figures. ÒWhy have I come here?Ó Mulder demanded suddenly, his voice booming in the echo of the auditorium. It was a stupid question, though; one he already knew the answer to. But he needed to hear it from HER. ScullyÕs eyes went wide. The stare that had trapped him as he had approached had now been trapped herself. She looked back at him, wondering why... Mulder stared into those eyes, the eyes of Dana Scully. She stared back. No one moved. * * * October 20, 2023 Scully stood from her slumped over raking position, squinting as she brought her eyes back up towards the bright sun. It had been an unseasonably warm autumn, and every day outside was a good day, she decided, even if it meant raking. She had missed far too many during her FBI days. FAR too many. She felt a certain deal of pride as she surveyed the newly exposed grass, no longer hidden under a sheet of leaves. She felt pride for doing the work herself, even if it was the way she had done it for nearly 25 years, since her early resignation from the Bureau. It gave her a wonderful feeling to be doing something for herself, and she wasnÕt sure why. Perhaps it was due to the fact she had grown up with two brothers, and had all of the chores done for her. Maybe it was just taking pride in a job well done. Or maybe it was something else. She brushed the dirt from her thighs, running her hand through her slowly graying red hair. She placed the rake on the ground, near the pile of leaves, and approached her small, Maine home. She had just finished her hard work, and what better way to take pride in it than a nice, warm bath. The warm bath, Scully had decided many years ago, must have truly been a gift to mankind. It was another thing, like the sunny days, her FBI job had never permitted her to enjoy. And after she quit -- she RESIGNED -- from her job, a warm bath had become a daily enjoyment. It made you relaxed and made you feel wonderful; it was like a pureness, the cherry on the sundae, one to wrap you and keep you on your feet, to bind you together. As she stepped on to the cement stairs, she heard the phone begin to wring from inside. She picked up the pace, running to answer it before the caller gave up. In fifty five years, Scully had lost a lot of things. One thing she hadnÕt lost was her step. Even at her age, she could probably outrun a healthy woman half her age. She entered the home, the wooden door closing with a satisfying click. She stepped into the kitchen, picking up the phone with a, ÒScully.Ó That was another thing she hadnÕt lost -- her way of answering the phone. Instead of a pleasurable hello, she gave a ÒScullyÓ. It seemed to work just fine. ÒIs this Dana Scully?Ó came the voice on the other end of the receiver. It belonged to a young woman, Scully analyzed, but it wasnÕt familiar. It was probably just another salesperson. It seemed that was the only kind of phone call she got anymore. ÒYes,Ó she responded. ÒWho is this?Ó ÒMs. Scully,Ó the woman said, her voice becoming sing-song and cheerier. ÒThis is Melissa Dahl, from Golden Pond Retirement Center, down in D.C.Ó ÒRetirement Center?Ó Scully asked. ÒWhy are you calling?Ó The woman laughed a small laugh, and responded with, ÒFrankly, maÕam, we were hoping you could tell us. ThereÕs a patient here whoÕs become quite sick, and for the past few days, heÕs been demanding that you come.Ó ÒPatient?Ó Scully asked. ÒWhat is this all about? WhoÕs asking for me?Ó There seemed to be a silence that lasted forever. In a way, Scully knew the answer before it even had been said. She knew it with her whole heart that the name that would be spoken would be a name she hadnÕt heard in years. She knew... ÒHis name?Ó the woman asked. ÒHis name... Scully winced. ÒHis name is Mulder.Ó * * * June 18, 1999 ÒYou asked to see me, sir?Ó Scully stood, her heart racing, in the doorway of the office of Walter Skinner. He looked up at her, his eyes baring deep into her, his same expressionless face glaring at her. It was a look that gave you the feeling he was reading your mind; a face that said everything and nothing at the same time. ÒAgent Scully,Ó he said. ÒPlease have a seat.Ó Scully nodded, approaching his desk, taking her place in the chair in front of it. As she grabbed the armrest, she noticed how sweaty her palms were. With all good reason, though -- she knew what rested on this meeting. In light of the recent allegations, everything had been a little more nerve racking. Skinner scribbled down something in a open file, before finally looking up to meet her eyes. ÒI assume you know why youÕre here,Ó he said. She nodded, choking down a heavy gulp. ÒYes, sir,Ó she said, her usually steady voice somewhat shaky. He nodded. ÒGood. And you will have no problem with going through with that? You will be able to look your partner in the eye an...Ó ÒIÕll be fine, sir,Ó Scully interrupted. Skinner stared at her, that stare of his penetrating through her as if she was nothing. She felt a sudden shiver come over her body. It could not be restrained. Skinner inhaled deeply, a half sigh. ÒScully,Ó he said, removing his thin, wire glasses. ÒI realize what you must be going through right now. ItÕs been tough for all of us. But you must realize: itÕs for his own good.Ó ÒDo you, sir?Ó she asked. She suddenly felt herself pick up, all of her anger and fears and discontents dealing with the whole recent scenario giving her power. ÒDo you realize what IÕm going through? I donÕt think you do. I donÕt think you know what IÕm going through at all.Ó Scully stood, adding to the increasing drama in her voice. She found herself raising her vocal level. ÒTry to imagine what IÕm actually going through,Ó she demanded. ÒAnd see if you could put yourself in the position IÕm putting myself in because itÕs for his own good! See if you could find yourself becoming the knife in your best friendÕs back, because everyone else says itÕs for his own good!! See if you could betray the person you cared about the most in the world because itÕs for his own good!!! Can you see yourself doing that, sir? Can you see that?!Ó Scully stopped, backing off. She slowly stepped back towards the door, but didnÕt look away. ÒRespectfully, sir,Ó she said. ÒI donÕt think you have the slightest damn idea what IÕm going through.Ó Skinner winced as the door slammed shut. * * * ÒIÕm sorry, miss,Ó Scully said. ÒDid you say Mulder?Ó ÒThatÕs correct, maÕam,Ó said the woman on the other line. ÒMulder. Fox Mulder.Ó Scully began to feel faint, and slowly leaned her back against the wall, trying to catch herself. ÒMulder...?!Ó she said to herself, sliding down the wall, stretching the phone cord to itÕs limit. Mulder was asking for her? But why? After what she had done to him? The voice on the other line seemed to become nervous. ÒMaÕam?Ó she asked. ÒAre you all right?Ó Scully shook her head, even though she couldnÕt be seen. ÒYes, yes,Ó Scully said, trying to regain herself. ÒIÕm fine. ItÕs just... Mulder. ThatÕs a name I havenÕt heard in -- what? 30 years?Ó Scully stood again, finding her legs. She continued. ÒIÕm sorry, did you say he was sick?Ó The voice tried to comfort. ÒAlzheimers, Ms. Scully,Ó she said. ScullyÕs eyes went wide. ÒItÕs nibbled away at him for the longest time, long before he came here five years ago. He keeps to himself, and doesnÕt come out to eat much, but when he tells his stories...!Ó She paused, recounting the memories. ÒStories of aliens, and conspiracies, and sewer men...! Oh, heÕs just the hit of the Home!Ó Scully laughed a little; a happy, yet nervous, laugh. ÒAnd you said heÕs been asking for me?Ó ÒThatÕs right, maÕam,Ó the woman responded. ÒThree days straight. He wonÕt leave his bed, and every time we try to get him up, he says to get Scully. He wonÕt get up without Scully, he says.Ó Scully nodded. That was Mulder, all right. Still as stubborn as ever. The woman continued. ÒIf itÕs not too much of an inconvenience, IÕd ask you...Ó Scully inhaled deeply. ÒIÕll be there tomorrow morning,Ó she interrupted. ÒThank you, maÕam,Ó she said. ÒHeÕll appreciate that. You have a safe trip, okay?Ó Scully agreed, and hung up the receiver with a click. For a moment, she just stared. Mulder. A lone tear ran down her cheek. Outside, she watched the leaves she had spent all day raking scatter across the yard in the wind, finding themselves in a new place. She couldnÕt help but wonder if that was a sign. * * * The Ô16 Buick clattered down the highway. Dana Scully gripped the steering wheel, the radio blaring an old Celene Dion song. She wasnÕt listening, though; her mind was wandering through too many different hallways at the time. It had been thirty years since she had heard anything from Fox Mulder, and now BAM! HeÕs calling out for her. It was funny, strange -- and then she caught herself: that summed up Mulder in a nutshell. To be honest, she had no idea what to expect when she saw him. It had been far too long since they had last met eyes. Far too long... * * * ÒWhy am I here?Ó Mulder repeated, glaring at her. She felt her heart skip a beat. Why did he do this to himself? To her? Why would he ask such a stupid question? To hear her actually speak the answer. She would never forget that glare he gave her. It screamed hatred. It was a look she had seen him give many times in the last six years, but never, NEVER, to her. It was always to some piece of human trash that deserved it -- he seemed to save the look for the infesting lowlifes. Now, he used it on her. ÒAnswer the question, Scully!!!Ó he demanded, his voice raised high and angry. He stood now, bellowing over her. She stared right back, feeling her heart race. Why was he doing this? How could he do this to them? ÒANSWER THE QUESTION!!!!!Ó ÒAgent Mulder, have a seat!!Ó spoke a voice from behind, belonging to someone, a superior agent, among the panel of them watching over the two. Mulder obeyed; he slowly found his seat again. But he didnÕt shake the glare. He wouldnÕt take his painful eyes off of her. ÒAnswer the question, Scully,Ó he demanded. ÒWhy have I been called here?Ó He knew the answer as well as her, but he was being Mulder: stubborn. And she knew once she answered everything would change; she assumed once her part had been said, she would never speak to him again. They had always had a trust to bind them together. It would be Scully, being pushed by Mulder, who would finally break it. Why wouldnÕt he stop glaring? She felt a tear begin to clog her wide, green eyes. She never usually found it necessary to cry, but Mulder meant everything to her. He knew that as well as she did. And this was the end. ÒOh, Mulder,Ó she spoke, her voice a whisper, through a sob. ÒPlease... please forgive me.Ó Mulder just glared. * * * Washington, D.C. It was a sight Scully hadnÕt seen since 2004. And she couldnÕt say there had been much of a change. And for some odd reason, it seemed that now that she was back, she had never left in the first place. She began to feel cold as she neared her destination. She knew why she had left this place. It was the ghost that still haunted her. HE was the ghost. And now he had called her back -- she had to return. She had to face that ghost again. That Spooky ghost. It took her a while to find Golden Pond Retirement Center. Maybe she did it on purpose. Maybe she was trying to delay the inevitable; to push away this next encounter. But she had made a promise, and one she intended to keep. After all, the bell had been rung. It was time for her to report to duty. ScullyÕs small car pulled to a stop outside the building. She looked at it as she stepped outside. It was small, bland; everything youÕd expect from a Retirement Center. And there was no Golden Pond to be seen. Perhaps sheÕd take that up with management. Knowing Mulder, he probably already had. The world seemed to slow, the temperature drop, as she approached the tired building. The door swung open, a gust of air seeming to pull her in. The door hissed closed behind her. For a moment, she just stared down the long hallway that awaited her. She took a deep breath, shaking her head. It was time. The ghost was waiting. * * * From outside his door, she could hear everything. ÒMr. Mulder,Ó the woman spoke, the voice Scully had heard on the telephone. ÒMr. Mulder, please get up.Ó It remained silent for only a second. Then came a voice, a tender voice, one that she hadnÕt heard in far too long. She cupped her mouth, holding back tears, as he spoke: ÒWhereÕs Scully? Not getting up without Scully.Ó ÒMr. Mulder, sheÕs right outside, waiting to come in,Ó the woman pleaded. ÒNot getting up without Scully.Ó Scully heard a sigh, the womanÕs sigh, and the door swung open with a slight creek. The woman turned to face her. ÒIÕm sorry, maÕam,Ó she said. ÒHeÕs still being stubborn. Says he wonÕt get up without you.Ó Scully nodded, but as the woman began to walk away, she struck a question. ÒJust how bad is he?Ó Scully asked. The young woman turned, staring into ScullyÕs aging eyes with a saddening expression that said it all. Without one word, Scully knew how serious the situation was. Scully thought she even saw a tear form in the womanÕs eye, before she finally spoke, ÒJust go see him, maÕam.Ó Oh, God. As the woman clicked off down the hall, Scully stood, her eyes closed, breathing deeply. He was dying. She had been called to say goodbye. Slowly, she hit her fist alongside the door in rage. And then, he spoke. ÒSorry,Ó Mulder said, his voice faint. Scully looked up towards the door, her eyes once again filling with tears. She smiled before he even finished; somehow, she knew what he was going to say. She mouthed the words with him, familiar words, the first words between them. ÒNobody down here but the FBIÕs most unwanted.Ó Scully just sobbed, smiling. * * * Why was he doing this to him? To her? Why did he find this necessary to kill them both?! ÒAgent Scully,Ó came the same booming voice from behind. ÒPlease answer Agent MulderÕs question.Ó Now he had THEM going against her, too. Why would he do this? Scully sobbed, wiping the tears from her eyes, before regaining composure. MulderÕs glare still hadnÕt backed off. He wasnÕt making this any easier on her. Or on himself. But it was the right thing to do. It was for is own good. ÒA-agent Mulder,Ó she said, through a small sniffle. she told herself. ÒIn light of... recent allegations...Ó ÒSay it, Scully,Ó he interrupted. ÒDonÕt cradle this; donÕt baby it around. Just say it.ÓScully opened her mouth to protest. ÒI...Ó she began, but stopped. She knew he was right. It had to be done. It was a necessity. She stared at him. He glared back. ÒSay it.Ó * * * She placed her hand firmly on the doorknob, slowly turning it, the door opening with a slight creek. For a moment, she stood quiet in the doorframe, staring into what awaited her. Her heart raced. The future was in that room... ... and so was the past. Slowly, she took a deep breath, and took her step inside. She quickly analyzed her surroundings. The room was a pale yellow-green, a color that made you nauseous just looking at it. In the corner, a bed sat, the bed curtain drawn. She knew what lay behind it. She felt herself begin to sweat, her heart a mile a minute, as she slowly clenched the curtain, separating them; Mulder and herself or past and future? She didnÕt know. Either way, one yank of the arm, and life would never be the same again. Never, in all of her fifty some years, had Dana Scully been so nervous. She could hear her labored breathing, hoping the same wasnÕt true for the figure on the other side. Slowly, Scully winced, throwing the curtain open with a hiss. She slowly raised her head to meet his glimpse. It nearly took her off her feet. There before her lay Fox Mulder. Sure, his face had wrinkled some, and his hair had turned from a dusty brown into a light shade of gray, but it was evidently Mulder. The eyes gave it away. The hazel stones had a way of saying more than he ever could; the eyes said it all. He smiled his typical Mulder smile: wry and twisted, and at the same time, loving and full of heart. Scully smiled back, noticing another tear streaming itÕs way down her cheek. She sat at the end of his bed, slowly reaching out and taking his hand, gently placing it within hers. ÒHey,Ó he smiled. ÒItÕs been a while.Ó For a moment, everything was perfect. * * * ÒSay it, Scully!Ó he demanded. ÒLet me hear you say it!!Ó Mulder was standing again, his anger more evident than ever. ScullyÕs mind, along with her heart, raced. She didnÕt know what to do; Mulder had put her on the spot. She wiped the tears from her eyes, her fears suddenly being swept up in anger. ÒWhat do you want me to say, Mulder?!!Ó she yelled back, standing to meet his eyes. ÒWhat can I say about it? Huh?! You, me, and everyone else knows EXACTLY what you did, and we know it was you who did it!!! What can I say?!!Ó Both stood, breathing heavily, Scully now a pantomime of MulderÕs glare. In the background, someone was yelling, demanding order, but both ignored it. They just stood, hissing at each other. And then, with seven simple words, sealed his fate. ÒThe son of a bitch deserved it!!Ó he yelled. * * * ÒHey, Mulder,Ó she smiled back. ÒYeah, itÕs been a while.Ó He sat, slowly, meeting her, looking in her in the eyes. He had such caring eyes when he wanted to. Apparently this was one of those times. They must have sat for only a minute, yet an eternity, just staring into each other, smiling. They said more that way than anything they could put to words. It was Mulder who broke the silence. ÒI hear youÕve moved from the neighborhood. So, howÕs Maine treating you?Ó Scully smiled, nodding, quickly wiping the tear from her face. ÒItÕs -- itÕs good. ItÕs not like D.C.Ó ÒDid you ever get to know what D.C. was actually like, Scully?Ó Mulder smirked. ÒYou were always following me around on some stupid crusade, right?Ó She nodded, laughing a little. He laughed along. It was great; as if nothing had ever happened. It was as if she was back, before the turn of the millennium, before anything had ever come between them. On some plane, it was a dream come true. Now, it was ScullyÕs turn for a question. ÒSo, why me?Ó she asked. ÒYou must have had someone else to call, someone else to turn to...?Ó Mulder shrugged. ÒNo,Ó he said. ÒSince Mom died back in Ô99, youÕve been the closest thing to a family IÕve got. And, the way things went between us, that doesnÕt say much.Ó She smirked. ÒBesides,Ó he added. ÒFrohike was busy today. ÒAnd,Ó he said. ÒI had to see you again. One last time.Ó It would have done any other woman in, but Scully had lived by the reputation of the Ôstrong oneÕ. It took more might than one might have guessed to hold in a huge, wailing sob, but she accomplished the feat, with no noticeable change. Instead, she asked, ÒÔOne last timeÕ?Ó Mulder smiled. ÒThey didnÕt tell you?Ó he asked, sounding actually surprised. ÒIÕve got Alzheimers.Ó ÒYeah,Ó Scully said. ÒYeah, they told me that.Ó ÒWell, then whatÕs not to know?Ó Mulder smirked. ÒItÕs gotten worse, IÕm aware of that. ThatÕs why they cooped me up here. And call me spooky,Ó he paused, realizing the irony in what he had just said, Òbut IÕve got a hunch itÕs going to get worse yet.Ó Not a hunch, Scully told herself. She knew it as well as him. ÒI know,Ó he said. ÒThat IÕm going to die.Ó They found themselves wrapped back in that awkward stare, the stare she had given him time after time during they work as partners. What was there to say to that? Geez, the man had just told her what was inevitable. He knew it as well as her. Maybe that was a good sign -- he hadnÕt completely lost his awareness of his surroundings yet. That, Scully knew, would be the next to go. ÒAnd I couldnÕt die,Ó Mulder finished. ÒWithout rebridging this gap between us.Ó She couldnÕt hold it in any longer. Screw Ôthe strong oneÕ. Scully just sobbed. * * * June 15, 1999 The man struggled, but even he knew it was to no avail. It didnÕt take a genius to figure out that a thirty year old man could easily take down, shatter, a sixty year old man. Even worse, a thirty year old man driven by hatred. He felt cold punch after punch, his face slamming into the wood floor each time. Blood dripped from his nose, drained out from his jaw. He felt close to losing consciousness. ÒP-please...Ó he pleaded. That only made his assailant madder. The young man picked him up, shoving him against the wall, looking up into his eyes. The elder man hung, more fearful of his life than he had ever been. He had seen the damage this kid could do when he was mad, and now would not be a good time to underestimate him. He looked down into the young manÕs face, so twisted and evil it was hard to recognize. But the eyes gave it away. The hazel stones -- even then, during his fit of rage, the eyes said it all. The eyes said more than he ever could. The elder man hung as the young man raised a gun, pointing it directly between his eyes. He now knew what was inevitable. The last face he would ever see would be the face of Fox Mulder. * * * It had been a few days since Scully had come to MulderÕs rescue, and by now, it felt like an eternity. The two had a way of connecting; it was almost uncanny. Once around each other, it felt as if they had never been separated, never been torn from each other. Frankly, Scully liked that. It had brought back sleeping problems for her, however -- something she had never been able to shake during the course of her work for the Bureau. It was now as if she had too much on her mind again, as if being around Mulder brought back too many insecurities. After she had left the FBI, she found herself sleeping like a baby. Now, it was as if she had taken a step back. In more ways than one. Tonight was another sleepless night. Scully lay, not tossing and turning, but perfectly still, trying to find sleep. Her eyes wide, her mind racing, not moving a muscle. She thought about a lot of things: How bad was MulderÕs condition? If fatal, why wasnÕt it showing? And why her? Had he brought her back just to leave her again? To tear her apart again? ÒScully...Ó moaned a voice from behind the bedcurtain. Scully quickly sat up from her small cot. She rose to her feet, the cold tile stinging them as she walked towards the place where Mulder lay. ÒScully...Ó ÒMulder?Ó she asked, turning back the bedcurtain. ÒSay it, Scully,Ó he demanded, tossing and turning. ÒLet me here you say it.Ó Scully stood puzzled; it took a while for it to register that Mulder was dreaming. ÒSay it Scully!!Ó he demanded again, tossing over once more. ÒSAY IT!!Ó It was then that Scully realized what was happening, what had happened. She recognized the words, or more specifically, the harshness put behind them. She knew what he was doing, what he was seeing. It was their final conversation. It was then that Scully realized why she had been brought to see Mulder. The ghosts that had haunted her had haunted him, too. And he wanted to make amends. Before... ÒOh, God,Ó Scully said, shocked, nearly choking on a gasp. Once again, she told herself to forget her strong reputation. She dropped to her knees. Scully just cried. * * * Scully had been by MulderÕs side for almost a week and a half now and still hadnÕt brought up that night she had heard him. It was hard enough seeing him like this; she wanted nothing, NOTHING, to add to the situation. She had broken down enough in the last few days as it was. She walked along side him, heading towards the cafeteria, his hands firmly gripped on the frame of his walker. It was hard to see him like this, but she liked to think that her presence had been helping him. After all, they said before she came, Mulder wouldnÕt even remove himself from bed. It gave her comfort, the thought that she had redeemed herself. She couldnÕt see how ANYONE would have forgiven someone for what she did. ÒGood news, Scully,Ó Mulder smiled, turning his head to face her. ÒItÕs Meatloaf Monday today! I think itÕs a mixture between plastic and barbecue sauce.Ó Scully smiled, holding his arm so he wouldnÕt fall. She didnÕt understand how Mulder, someone so strong and full of heart, could stand to be cooped up in a place like this. His name said it all; he was a fox, swift and sure, and should be able to run free. Then again, she told herself, he had kept himself cooped up in that basement office of his for years. Scully smiled suddenly, for no reason in particular. When she was around Mulder, she felt stronger, braver, more full of heart. Life alone had been fine, sure, but nevertheless, had still been life alone. With Mulder, everything was pure again. As the old saying goes, though, nothing good can last. She suddenly felt herself being pulled back, stopping suddenly and heading towards the ground. She heard the walker hit the cold, hard floor with an icy TWANG! She spun, her heart racing, her mind going a mile a minute. What she saw twisted into her stomach like nothing ever could. Mulder lay, his head against the ground, a small drip of blood running from his nose. It formed a crimson pool on the floor near his lip. His eyes were still wide, and his sarcastic smile still on his face. He was shaking rapidly. Scully dropped to his side, her mind frustrated and lost. she told herself. She placed her hands on his shoulder, shaking him, hoping he would come back to her. ÒMulder?Ó she pleaded. ÒMulder, please...!!Ó She was panicking. ÒHELP!!!Ó she cried out, not knowing anything better to do. ÒHELP!!!! Please, help!!!Ó Mulder still smiled. * * * ÒAnswer me, you son of a bitch, ANSWER!!!Ó Mulder propped the man up, holding him tightly against the wall. The manÕs face was a familiar one, bitter and stained. But after dealing with Mulder, the face was hardly unrecognizable. The manÕs nose was obviously broken, his eyes tired and swollen, his entire mug completely drenched in his own blood. It was a fate he deserved, Mulder decided. Mulder KNEW. ÒI -- I donÕt know a-anything,Ó the man hissed, staring into the gun barrel that was inches from his skull. ÒLike hell you donÕt!!Ó Mulder yelled, throwing the man back to the apartment floor, into another pool of blood. ÒYou know exactly what I want!!Ó Mulder felt the hatred swell inside of him, slamming the handle of the gun into the manÕs skull with all of his rage. ÒWHERE IS SHE?!Ó The man looked up, his face full of shame; a plea for mercy. Mulder surpassed the look, aiming the gun point blank from the victimÕs eye. ÒWHERE IS SHE?!!Ó he demanded again. For a moment, both figures sat silent. Mulder hissed, out of breath. Below him lay the Cancer Man. * * * Scully paced outside the door, waiting for an answer. Every few seconds, she found herself stopping to look into the glass window on the door, checking to see what was going on. Why was it taking so long? What were they doing in there? Slowly, Scully sat down on the bench near the door. No sooner than she did, the door swung open, the young doctor exiting. Scully would have laughed at the irony of that on any other day; as soon as she stopped waiting, the doctor would be done -- kind of like a watcher toaster never pops. Today, though, was no day for laughing. ÒHow is he?Ó Scully asked, her aging body quickly standing up. ÒDana Scully?Ó the doctor asked. Scully confirmed with a nod. ÒYou used to work with Mr. Mulder, correct?Ó Scully nodded again, impatiently. ÒHow is he?Ó she repeated. ÒI understand,Ó the doctor said, Òthat you used to work in the medical field yourself.Ó Scully nodded again, slightly rolling her eyes. She hated the fact that people seemed to degrade her from leaving her work. Her mother used to do the same thing, before she passed away. It always sounded like they put the emphasis on ÒusedÓ. ÔI understand you *USED* to work in the medical field.Õ ÒWell, then,Ó the doctor smiled. ÒPerhaps youÕd have just as good of an idea whatÕs going on here as I do. Ms. Scully,Ó he said. That was another thing that had gotten to her since her retirement. ÔMs.Õ Scully. She hated that. ÔAgent ScullyÕ seemed so much more formal that Ô*Ms.* ScullyÕ. The doctor continued. ÒYou are aware that Mr. Mulder currently is seeing treatment for alzheimers, correct?Ó ÒYes, yes,Ó she said. ÒI learned that a few days ago -- Mulder and I hadnÕt really kept up with each other through the years. IÕm still unaware, however, of how serious the situation is. Mulder claims to think heÕs dying.Ó The doctor sighed heavily, lowering the clipboard where he kept the information on Mulder. His eyes met hers, and didnÕt move. He just stared. Oh, God. That was it. Scully knew that look. ÒMulder was...Ó she choked back a tearful gulp. ÒHe was right, wasnÕt he?Ó Scully asked. The doctor sighed again, obviously not enjoying breaking the news any more than Scully liked hearing it. ÒHe had a seizure today, Ms. Scully,Ó he said. ÒAnd a very serious one. ItÕs very surprising to hear itÕs his first -- most of the first usually arenÕt so bad.Ó ÒBut MulderÕs was...?Ó Scully asked, already knowing the answer. ÒIt hit hard on his brain, Ms. Scully. ItÕs amazing heÕs still able to function and move. HeÕs unaware of his current surroundings, and that most likely will not change. I donÕt expect him to walk again...Ó ÒMulderÕs a fighter,Ó Scully protested, trying to block the young physician from saying the inevitable. ÒIÕm sure he is, Ms. Scully, but perhaps you donÕt understand how serious Mr. MulderÕs case has become,Ó the doctor said, firmly, yet with heart. The look returned, the horrible look that said far more than Scully wanted to hear. The doctor sighed a final time, before finally saying what he had come to say. ÒI give him about a week, maybe less.Ó * * * ÒWHERE IS SHE?!!!Ó Mulder had become even more impatient, the gun gripped so tightly it was as if it were a part of him. Sweat poured like rain down his forehead; he didnÕt care. He wanted, needed, DEMANDED, the truth. It was all he had ever wanted. News had come only hours earlier of SkinnerÕs decision to return the X-Files to their once defunct state. He gave some stupid reason; Mulder had forgotten what in his fit of anger. All he knew was that Skinner had done it before, and had repealed it, too, but not without good reason. And unless Agent Scully went through another abduction, Mulder feared that everything was hopeless. And he needed the truth. The Cancer Man wheezed, his tar ridden lungs desperately clinging to any air they could get at through the smoke and blood. He wheezed, hacking more of the ruby liquid on to MulderÕs apartment floor. ÒWHERE IS SHE?!!Ó Mulder demanded again, lowering the gun one step further towards the manÕs skull. ÒWHERE IS SAMANTHA??!!Ó Cancer Man looked up at him, his eyes so swollen he could hardly see. ÒY-you shoot me,Ó he said. ÒA-and the truth goes down with me.Ó It was stupid to try to bargain; he had seen the look in MulderÕs eyes before. He knew that the end was in sight for him. ÒWHERE IS SHE??!!!!Ó Mulder repeated. The Cancer Man coughed, more blood finding itÕs way on to the wooden floor. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldnÕt. He had been there for years to block MulderÕs path; now the roles had reversed. Suddenly, the Cancer Man didnÕt feel so powerful. Mulder hissed, waiting for his answer. It was time, he decided, to finally give Mulder what he wanted, no matter how badly it hurt both of them. After all, he was SamanthaÕs father, and he loved her like a father... ÒSheÕs dead,Ó he coughed. * * * Scully sat beside Mulder, cradling his hand like she had done so many times before, trying to comfort him. It was worthless; she knew he couldnÕt feel her presence right now anyway. It gave HER comfort, however, something she needed now more than ever. It was strange. Two weeks ago, she didnÕt even know Mulder still existed. He was a mere memory to her, as was everything she and him had after tried to accomplish. He had been nothing to her, and then she had gotten that phone call. Now, she had found him again, found what she had missed in all of her years alone. She had missed having someone. No, she had missed having Mulder. And now, he was leaving her again, making her vulnerable and weak again, like he had done so many years before. She had lived by herself her whole life, had never needed anyone. Her mother had passed away not six years after her father; her brother Bill had been killed in a ÔroutineÕ training exercise in his military job; there had been no one for her, not since Mulder had left. Yet, she had always been happy, content, never fearing. And he was leaving her again. Scully squeezed his hand tighter than ever before. For the first time in her life, Dana Scully truly felt alone. * * * Mulder DID walk again, but not without his large, metal walker to support him. Scully remained convinced that if he wanted to, he could take steps by himself, could rebuild his walking ability, but with only one week to live, she decided any progress would be a mere futile plea to cling to the past. Scully wasnÕt even sure if Mulder knew he only had one week. ÒCÕmon, Mulder,Ó she comforted, gently helping him pull the walked down the hallway, back towards his bedroom. ÒIÕve got you. CÕmon.Ó She listened for an answer. None. MulderÕs hair had significantly whitened in the last two days, since his drastic fall, and that was all he was showing. He carried his head down now as he walked, not letting anyone in. Scully couldnÕt help but wonder if this was a natural reaction to the seizure, or if it was the same old Mulder, just being stubborn. Slowly, they entered the darkened, secluded room Mulder called home. The small wheels creaked as they turned, gently bringing Mulder to a stop near his bed. ÒHere,Ó Scully said as he sat. She gently lifted his legs on to the bed, pulling the covers up over him. ÒYou just rest.Ó She tucked him in, placing a small, gentle kiss upon his forehead. Slowly, she began to back away, gazing at him as she did. He hadnÕt said a word since the incident. His eyes were gently closed; he was already drifting off into a sleep. He had become quite week, she had noticed. She hated seeing him like this. She began to pull away, heading towards the door, hoping Mulder would say something, ANYTHING, to stop her. A plea, a joke, even a cough, just something to show her he was still there; that he was still fighting. She reached the door, listening. Nothing. Slowly, she stepped outside. * * * ÒShe died,Ó Cancer Man continued, Òthe night she was taken from you. It was a simple abduction, one perpetrated by the Federal Government that has employed you for years. The alien ÔmemoryÕ, the one youÕve been recalling for years, is a simple ploy, designated to keep you from the truth.Ó The Cancer Man tried to stand, but MulderÕs foot, coming in direct and hard contact with his face, stopped him. It took him a moment to regain himself, but in a minute, the elder man continued. ÒThe government has been experimenting for years on the innocent American public, the whole extra terrestrial folk lore built up as a way a diverting people from finding the truth. Your sister, Mr. Mulder, was subjected to a disease, one to which there was, and still is, no cure. Her immune system had no way of fighting it -- she perished not more than five hours from her disappearance. ÒThe government,Ó he said, blood still pouring from his shattered face, Òplaced the memory with you, to divert you and keep you off course, but more importantly, to debunk the X-Files. The government is a snide, evil, bigoted race, but they also carry your dream: to find proof of alien life. ThatÕs why you have been able to carry on so easily for the past six years: your progress has been theirs.Ó The Cancer Man sighed heavily, once again trying to make his way to his feet. Mulder didnÕt stop him this time; he was too busy trying to take everything he had heard in. His eyes had gone from deranged and maddening to scared and betrayed. Mulder looked around in a fit of panic. ÒB-but...Ó Mulder tried. He could say nothing. ÒSamantha is dead, Mulder,Ó he said. ÒThereÕs no two ways about it. And now that you have your truth, you can let me go. My injuries are fixable -- they did it once, when I was shot; they can do it again.Ó He began to take a dizzying step, the first he could since Mulder had abducted him from his quiet home and brought him here. He was stopped, however, by MulderÕs gun, raising to his face. ÒYouÕre a LIAR!!!!Ó Mulder screamed. ÒYouÕre nothing but a LIAR!Ó ÒReally?Ó posed the Cancer Man, slightly amused. ÒWell then you best let me go. After all,Ó he smirked, or so it appeared through his broken face. ÒIÕm the only way youÕll ever find the truth.Ó ÒYOUÕRE A LIAR!!!!!!Ó Mulder yelled, clenching the gun tightly. ÒYou can kill me where I stand, Mr. Mulder,Ó the Cancer Man smirked. ÒBut youÕll never know if I am indeed a liar. When I die, the truth goes with me.Ó Mulder clenched the gun tighter, shaking it towards the elder manÕs face. ÒBesides,Ó finished the Cancer Man. ÒYou wonÕt kill me now. You have too much of your father in you.Ó He paused. ÒYou want to know how I know this to be true?Ó Mulder winced, not wanting to hear. ÒBecause, Agent Mulder...Ó No! ÒYour father...Ó NO!!!! Òis m...Ó The Cancer Man never got a chance to finish the sentence; at least, not in MulderÕs ears. He never heard what the Cancer Man was trying to tell him. He had been too busy listening to a gunshot. Slowly, the tar and blood soaked elder man fell to the floor. Mulder turned his head, not wanting to see what he had just done. He threw the gun to the floor. And began to cry. * * * Scully sat, her mind racing, at 3:30 am. She hadnÕt slept in days -- there was far too much going on to sleep. She thought desperately, wondering what to do about Mulder. If he was going to die, this surely was not the place. He was a fox: he deserved to be free. Then again, it was most likely just wishful thinking. Sure, leaving Mulder to die here, in Golden Pond Retirement Center, wasnÕt right, but it was what was going to happen. They didnÕt even want him going outside BEFORE his seizure; now theyÕd surely deny any requests for him to leave. God, had he made life more difficult. Two weeks ago, she had been sublimely happy. Her ex-partner had been all but a memory. And now, he had called her back into the scheme of things, only to tear her apart like he did before, to leave her again. It hurt. A lot. She stood, stretching her legs. Any chance for sleep was nil, so she figured why try? It would only make her more upset and stressed out, knowing she had insomnia. Best to push it down and forget it; Mulder was more important right now. She found herself startled by a sudden noise, almost like a croak. She spun, looking for the source, but she already knew. She turned, running to the foot of MulderÕs bed. She flung open the bedcurtain. ÒMulder?Ó she asked. ÒScully...Ó he said, his voice almost a plea. ÒMulder,Ó she said, excited and full of hope. ÒIÕm right here. DonÕt worry. IÕm right here.Ó ÒScully...Ó he repeated. ÒThe field...Ó ÒDonÕt worry, Mulder,Ó she comforted. ÒItÕs just fine.Ó ÒThe field... the field...Ó ÒField?Ó ÒThe field...Ó he repeated. ÒThe field... where...Ó ÒWhat is it, Mulder?Ó she asked, squeezing his hand. ÒWhat are you trying to tell me?Ó ÒThe field where...Ó ÒWhat field, Mulder?Ó Scully asked, her voice becoming frustrated. ÒWhat field??Ó ÒThe field where I...Ó And then he collapsed, back into a deep sleep. ÒMulder?Ó Scully asked, shaking his arm. ÒMulder? Are you there?Ó But she knew he was gone again. He had left just as quick as he appeared. ÒWhat field?Ó she repeated, her voice a whisper. Scully cradled his hand. * * * Scully dreamt. She clenched her musket, gritting her teeth as she charged from the small trench dug to keep her and her troops safe. Bullets flew all around her, like raindrops from a spring cloud, but she didnÕt care. Someone was out there. ÒMulder!!!Ó she cried out, running out into the field. Her auburn hair flew out of her uniform cap, blowing behind her in the wind. She felt the bullets fly near her, hearing screams from the men from both sides. The Union troops stormed, charging at her and her Confederate force. But she did not stop. There was a wounded man out there, one far too valuable to lose. After all, she had lost him once before. She wasnÕt about to lose him again. ÒMulder!!!!Ó she cried out again, trying to find him. A small whisper came, almost a croak. ÒScully...Ó Scully turned, listening from where the voice had come from. ÒMulder?Ó she asked, looking around, a bullet nearly hitting her shoulder. ÒMulder? Where are you?Ó ÒScully...Ó came the voice again. She spun around again and again, looking for her partner. ÒMulder?!Ó she cried, her voice a mere squeak among the sounds of war. ÒWhere are you? Mulder?!Ó ÒScully...!Ó And then she saw him. There, in the middle of the battle field sat a bed, wrapped quietly within a curtain. She ran towards it, yelling the whole way. ÒDonÕt worry, Mulder!Ó she cried. ÒIÕm coming!! I wonÕt lose you again!!!Ó As she approached her destination, no longer of the massacre happening around her, she felt it begin to rain, small drops at first. By the time she had reached the bedside, it was pouring. She flung the curtain open. ÒMulder?Ó she called. Staring her in the face lay Fox Mulder, his face still helpless. It hadnÕt changed; still the same, old, disease-ridden face she had left behind in the real world. But something was different. There was a gaping hole in his forehead. Crimson liquid poured down his face. ÒScully...Ó he whispered. ÒThe field...! The field where I...!Ó But she wasnÕt listening anymore. His eyes said it all; his tender eyes, so full of heart. She stared into the dark, mysterious eyes she had stared into many times before. They seemed to stare right back. A trickle of blood flowed into them, from the wound on the forehead, blocking the stare. Scully looked back towards the field. The war had disappeared. Instead, she found herself looking at a large, metal sign. ÔWELCOME TO APISONÕ, it read, bold white letters against a calm green backdrop. Confused, she glanced away. Upon looking back up, the sign had vanished. She glanced towards the musket she had been holding tightly. It, too, had vanished, in itÕs place leaving a small, modern pistol, smoke pouring from the barrel. She looked back towards Mulder. He, and his bed, had disappeared also. Everything had left her; she was alone. It continued to rain. * * * Scully awoke hard, gasping as she suddenly found herself thrust into the coldness of the natural world. For a moment, she just sat, breathing heavily. What had that been all about? Where had the Civil War come from? What had just happened? Slowly, she began to relax, her thoughts relaxing, too. ItÕs just a dream, she told herself. No worries. Just some stupid dream. She brought herself back down, laying into the warmth of the bed. She couldnÕt believe it. The first sleep sheÕd gotten in days, and sheÕd waken herself with some stupid dream. Or was it? She got up again, this time standing, the icy tile sending a shiver through her aging body. She began to pace, her mind trying to work out all of the details. ÒField...Ó she thought out loud. ÒField... field in... Apison?Ó Apison. Suddenly, she remembered the sign. Apison. Tennessee. That could explain the Civil War, she considered. But how did I get Apison? Where did all of it come from? What is the dream trying to tell me? A soft groan came from MulderÕs bed. Quickly, she pulled herself out of her trance, walking over to see. ÒMulder?Ó she asked. ÒAre you all right?Ó ÒThe field...Ó he whispered. ÒThe field where I...Ó The field. ThatÕs what Mulder had been trying to tell her in her dream. The field... what field? ÒMulder?Ó she asked. ÒWhat field?Ó But it was too late. He was already gone again. She sighed heavily, walking away from the foot of his bed. ÒField...Ó she considered aloud. ÒField... field in Apison. The field... the field where he...Ó She tried to finish his sentence. ÒThe field where he...Ó And then it hit her. She didnÕt see why she couldnÕt have made the connection before. It had been a case of theirs, back in 1996, around the same time as now. They had been investigating a mass weapon/child abuse in a cult, taken from a report from a woman. Mulder, somehow, had known they would be out in a field near the worship center. He knew the field. It was... ÒThe field where he died.Ó * * * The door swung open, quietly, Scully sticking her head out to make sure no one was around. Slowly, she stepped out into the hallway, Mulder beside her, gripping her hands tightly as he stepped. She knew the walker would be far too noisy for this; she would have to suffice. ÒCÕmon, Mulder,Ó she whispered, quietly closing the door behind her. ÒWeÕre almost there.Ó The hallway was lit only by the moon, dark and mysterious, the perfect time for an escape. Slowly, they walked through down the hall, towards the large glass doors separating them from freedom. Scully had said it herself; this was no place for Mulder to die. And he had agreed. He wanted to go somewhere else. He had chosen the field where... Scully shook her head. God, did she want to believe. But her mind was that of a skepticÕs. Even now, in his most desperate hour, Scully still couldnÕt find herself to take MulderÕs side. As they approached the outside world, Scully felt young and full of excitement again. She felt herself standing with Mulder, alone in a dark hallway, slowly creeping, as so not to disturb anyone, towards freedom that awaited them. It was just like working with him again; like a final escape. Maybe thatÕs what she had intended it to be. It mustÕve taken them five minutes to reach the doors, but they did, ScullyÕs heart still racing. She quietly began to open the door. And as she did, something startled her. ÒHEY!!Ó came the voice down at the other end of the hall. Startled, Scully spun, still gripping MulderÕs hand. It was the nurse that had admitted Scully. Damn it! Scully quickly spun, throwing the door open, taking Mulder outside. She spun back to see. The woman was now running after them. ÒHEY!!Ó she continued to yell. ÒSTOP!!!Ó Scully turned to Mulder. ÒCÕmon, Mulder,Ó she comforted, trying to pick up the pace. ÒWeÕre almost there.Ó She looked ahead. There sat her car, alone on the moonlit pavement, not twenty yards away. Mulder wasnÕt moving any faster. She spun back around. The woman was nearing the doors. There would be no escape, not unless Mulder picked up the pace. ÒHEY!!Ó she heard the woman yell again. ÒSTOP RIGHT THERE!!!Ó Now it REALLY felt like they were partners again, fleeing from an authority figure as they tried to bring their quest to an end. It was like a time machine; it was invigorating. Good for the heart. Something Scully needed right now. She spun back around again. The woman was not ten feet from the doors. Scully paused, doing the only thing she could. She bent down, wrapped her arms around MulderÕs waist, and with all of her might, lifted him into the air, over her shoulder. Her fifty-five year old frame wasnÕt made to support a full grown manÕs weight rested a top itÕs shoulders, but Scully didnÕt dare let go. It was time for her to reclaim her title again. She was going to be Ôthe strong oneÕ. She began to run, or walk as close to running as she could with Mulder slumped over her. She heard the door open behind her, the woman now outside, not far behind. ÒHEY!!!Ó yelled the woman. ÒHEY!!!!Ó Scully reached the car, her hand slipping over the cool metal doorknob. She didnÕt have time to get her keys. She said a quick prayer, and clicked the door handle up. Unlocked. Thank God. She dumped Mulder into the car, sitting him down in the seat. She quickly jumped in behind him, slamming the door just as the woman reached the car. She threw the lock down, keeping the nurse outside. The young woman began to pound on the windows. ÒHEY!!!Ó she repeated. ÒSTOP!!!Ó Scully didnÕt even look at her. Slowly, she reached into her pocket, pulling out her set of keys. She entered one into the ignition switch, and turned it. The car revved up. Scully closed her eyes, smiling. They had made it. She began to back up, leaving the screaming woman alone. She pulled out on to the road, freedom awaiting them. She turned to Mulder. He sat, curled up in the seat, just staring at her. He was smiling. They had made it. * * * The lone, open road held no boundaries as they drove on, towards Tennessee. Scully smiled, looking ahead. The sun shone down, and at the moment, she felt it was only for them. It was great: not 24 hours ago, Scully had felt alone, confused, as if everything was a burden on her shoulders. Now, though, it was different. Now she felt strong and free. There was nothing behind them and everything in front of them. Because she knew what she had to do. It had taken her a while to figure out what the wound on MulderÕs head in the dream had meant, what it had been placed there for. She had recognized the type of injury before, and after carefully considering many types, she realized it was the wound of a bullet shot. She looked over at her ex-partner. He was curled up in the chair like a child, sleeping hard. She felt like crying -- he was so calm and cool, and so full of pain. She hated seeing him die like this; he had become so weak and brittle, he would have been ashamed if he could see himself. She knew it, and somewhere, she knew he did, too. She reached under the seat, grabbing a small object resting beneath. Quietly, she pulled the black object up, staring at it. It taunted her, seemingly smirked at her; she hadnÕt used it in years. Even after she had quit the FBI, she had kept with the habit of keeping a gun under the front seat. Just in case she was ever attacked, or if there even came another reason, Scully was coming prepared. Now was one of those times. He wouldÕve hated dying like this, she told herself, and that gave her comfort. She knew what he would have wanted. She put the gun back down, shaking as she did. She looked back out ahead. The nice autumn weather, the weather she had noticed only two weeks ago raking, was fading into a gentle overcast. She could see the sky graying with intensity off in the distance. She couldnÕt help but wonder if it was a sign. * * * ÒThe son of a bitch deserved it!!Ó Mulder called out. ÒYou know it as well as I do, Scully!! He was the cancer on us for far too long!! I put an end to that!!Ó ÒIs that why you did it, Mulder?Ó Scully yelled back. ÒIs that why you brought him into your apartment and SHOT HIM in cold blood?! For the good of the rest of us??Ó She paused, sitting back down, trying to regain herself. She took a few deep breaths, finally finding her cool again. Much more softly and in order, she finished. ÒOr did you do it for yourself?Ó Mulder stood, breathing heavily, his glare focused right on her. But as she said those last few words, his eyes began to open. For a moment, he stood staring at her. Both could still hear the man in the background, demanding order, but neither were listening. He just stared at her, and she stared right back. And he did something sheÕll never forget. Mulder began to cry. It was a lone tear, quietly creeping down his cheek. Scully stared at him, her eyes going wide with fear. He stared right back, and he calmly shook his head. She wasnÕt sure if anyone else could see the tear, but she didnÕt care. The tear was meant for her. Oh, God, what had she done? Mulder regained himself, quickly wiping the salty drop from his face. He looked directly at her, and then up at the panel of FBI officers that stared around them. And he began to speak. ÒIÕm not sure why I put up with it for so long,Ó he said. ÒI canÕt understand why. The only thing the government ever gave me has been heartbreak. Trouble. ItÕs been trying to kill me since I walked in the front door. Maybe... maybe that was the plan. ÒI canÕt understand why, but I do know one thing for certain: it hasnÕt done me any good. I joined the Bureau in hopes of finding my lost sister Samantha, whom I believed had been abducted by aliens.Ó A small snicker came from a senior officer. It made Mulder a little mad, so he repeated it. ÒI believed she had been abducted by aliens. Little green men. And everyone hear knows it. The one thing you can associate old Spooky with are aliens. ÒBut,Ó he said. ÒWhat has it given me? Nothing. Just more heartbreak. More frustration. More undeniable sadness. And I believed that the elder man you found in my apartment with a slug in his head was the source of it all.Ó Mulder began to pace. ÒI killed him; thereÕs no denying that. I killed him in cold blood. Not for the the rest of you, but because I hated him. Because he was evil. Because he was...Ó He didnÕt finish the sentence. He didnÕt have to. Everyone sat quiet in the auditorium, staring at the young man, the brilliant young man, the one who had given so much and asked nothing in return. He stood, looking back at all of them. And then his eyes met ScullyÕs. They stared for a while, lost in each other. ÒA government job does not come without stress and frustration,Ó he continued. ÒIt does not come without loss and does not come without hard times. But IÕve never been able to deal with any of that. The government isnÕt my place. ÒThe X-Files were my sanction, my holy place, my grail. Everything I ever needed was in those files, and they were taken away from me. With that simple move, it was as if someone had brushed aside all of my hopes and dreams of ever seeing my sister again. And I wanted answers. So I beat them out of him. ÒI canÕt even know if what he told me was the truth, because I let the frustration and stress, the loss and hard times, get to me, and I took them out on someone else. For that, I cannot apologize. I still believe what I did was right. ÒItÕs funny,Ó he smirked. ÒIÕve always been the dreamer; the one who shot for his goals and never let anything get to him. ThatÕs why the X-Files had been perfect for me. They challenged me. They kept me being the dreamer. And I liked that. ÒBut now the feelingÕs gone, and so are the X-Files.Ó He paused again, but didnÕt look around. His eyes met directly with ScullyÕs. Her mind was still racing. Her heart beat faster than ever. She felt herself trembling. ÒSo go ahead,Ó he called out. ÒCall the authorities in. Have them lock me up and throw away the key. I was the dreamer,Ó he cried. Oh, God, Scully thought. ÒBut now, I just donÕt care.Ó What have I done? Mulder stood for a second, his eyes staring directly into her, his eye so full of heart and life. But there was something different about them; something... missing. Something... Oh, God. Slowly, he grabbed his briefcase and walked out. What have I done? * * * Scully never learned what had happened to Mulder after he walked out of that large auditorium from his hearing. Everyone had said he had gone to prison; for some reason, she found it hard to believe. It had been rumored heÕd spent years in therapy. Who knew? Not her. She didnÕt know at all. The car came to a halt alongside the road. She turned, gazing out the window. A large, rundown building sat out there, a building she recognized, even though she had spent but two days there. It was the building where the religious cult had found home. The field was right behind it. ÒMulder,Ó she said, rubbing his arm. ÒMulder, get up. WeÕre here, Mulder.Ó She saw his eyes open, and smiled. Scully opened her car door and prepared to step outside, so she could help him around. As she did, she reached under the car seat, grabbing the sleek, black tool, tucking it in her large coat pocket. He would have wanted it this way. As she shut the door, walking to the other side, her eyes shot up to the sky. It had grown dark and cold, and Scully could smell rain. She stopped, staring into the grayness above. She felt herself shiver. She quickly shook her spooked feeling and went to MulderÕs aide. The door clicked open, and she grabbed his hand, taking him out into the cold, autumn day. He hadnÕt said anything since they had left Washington, D.C. and Scully couldnÕt help but wonder why. In a way, though, the smile he gave her as they had driven away had said more than sheÕd ever need to hear. Slowly, they walked the grassy path towards the forgotten tomb, and Scully noticed it was beginning to rain. She didnÕt like it; it was too ominous and frightening, and wasnÕt helping her scared heart. She had convinced herself to do it, though; to do what she had to. It was the right thing to do, she told herself. It was for his own good. For his own good. She found herself back in SkinnerÕs office, thirty years earlier, yelling at him. ÒSee if you could put yourself in the position IÕm putting myself in because itÕs for his own good! Could you do that?Ó It was hard on her then; it was harder on her now. For his own good. It began to rain harder and harder with each step, and she tried to shield Mulder from the rain. She covered him with her arms, but quickly realized it didnÕt matter. Soon, everything would be over. ItÕs the right thing to do, she told herself over and over. ItÕs the right thing to do. The right thing to do. They turned upon reaching the large structure, going around it. By that time, it had begun to pour, soaking Mulder and Scully to the bone. But she didnÕt care. It was now or never. He would have wanted it this way. It was the right thing to do. Through the woods they journeyed, over shrubs and sticks, through fallen autumn leaves. Their destination was in clear sight. Scully sighed. Suddenly, Mulder felt a lot heavier. She didnÕt like it. For his own good. They reached the edge of the woods, staring directly into the field, when Mulder looked up. His eyes went wide. ÒThe field...Ó he coughed. ÒThe field where I...Ó He didnÕt finish. Scully smiled. ÒCÕmon, Mulder,Ó she said, breathing deeply. ÒLetÕs go.Ó She never expected any answer from Mulder, but she got one. He looked at her, a smirk on his face. For a moment, both stared at each other, their hearts racing, yet beating at the exact same time. For a moment, they were one. Then Mulder nodded, a firm nod, and dropped his hands from ScullyÕs. He began to walk by himself, out into the long grass. ScullyÕs eyes went wide as she followed behind. She had known before: there was no doubt in her mind Mulder could walk by himself again. And he knew as well as she did what was going on. It appeared he wanted it. It was the way he wanted it. Scully stepped into the grass, the powerful aroma from the rain smacking her right between the eyes. It was a wonderful smell; it wrapped you and cradled you. It was something else she never got to appreciate in all of her years with the Bureau. She had missed so many things... They made their way to the center of the field, both soaked and tired, both afraid. Each step brought them closer to the one thing both knew was right, and the one thing both knew would be the hardest thing theyÕd ever have to do. As they made it to their destination, Mulder spun to face his ex-partner. Their eyes met for what seemed like an eternity; she tried to remain calm and cool, but knew her eyes showed her terrible fear. His eyes, however, hadnÕt changed. They still said more than he ever could; they rang truth and hope. The hazel stones within them said everything. The moment was perfect. Scully didnÕt want it to end. God, she needed him! She wanted him to come back with her; to start their lives over. Together. But she knew it was a false hope, something that could never happen. And she knew what she had to do. So did he. ÒItÕs time,Ó Mulder whispered, taking ScullyÕs hands, cradling them. She nodded, reaching into her pocket. Slowly, she exposed the weapon, feeling more afraid than she ever had in her life. Every time something bad had happened to her, Mulder had always been by her side, and it gave her comfort to know that. But now, he wouldnÕt be. He was leaving. Quietly, she raised the gun towards his head, her hand trembling, shaking beyond control. She bit her lip, closing her eyes, squeezing tears out with such force and such truth. She tried to hold in a sob, tried to show him that she could be brave without him, but couldnÕt. She dropped the gun, shaking, sobbing. Mulder wrapped his arms around her, slowly, cradling her. ÒShh...Ó he comforted, his voice hoarse. ÒItÕs okay, Scully. EverythingÕs okay.Ó She buried her head in his chest, just hoping it was all some bad dream, and that she would wake up now, end it now, let her feel happy again. But she didnÕt. Slowly, she pulled away, picking up the gun from the rain soaked ground. It was the right thing to do, she told herself. He wants it this way. Once again, she raised the gun to his head, still trembling, her eyes wide with fear and hope. He stared into her, those caring eyes of his, as the gun found a resting place not two inches from his forehead. He swallowed hard, and smiled. He opened his mouth, and spoke. No, Mulder, she pleaded in her head. DonÕt make this any worse on me than it is. DonÕt you say it, donÕt you say it, I pray to God, donÕt you say it. ÒI love you, Dana.Ó She bit her lip and winced hard. A lone gunshot rang out. Mulder slumped to the ground. Scully opened her eyes, tears pouring out so hard she could barely see. She sobbed trying to speak. She gulped down the hard tears, trembling and shaking, so afraid. ÒI love you, Fox.Ó Oh, God. What had she done? * * * Tucked quietly in her Maine bedroom, Scully sat, her journal wide open, a pen laying on the page. She was calm, sentient, and needed to write. It was three days since the... incident, three days since she had pulled the trigger, three days since she had killed her only friend in the world. It tore her up inside. How could he do that to her? Call her back and leave her again? Did he find joy in hurting her? No, Dana, she told herself. Respect the man. DonÕt put him down. HeÕs gone now. And it was the way he wanted it. Scully sat, taking a deep breath, and began to write: I donÕt understand the way life works, or why it does, for that matter, but know itÕs unfair. Mulder was a good man; the most loving person IÕve ever met. He gave me everything. He helped me realize who I was and who I was meant to be. He showed me the way of the world, and I never repaid him. I would have done anything for him. I *did*. Mulder is dead, not by way of any disease, but by a simple gunshot. From me. A gunshot built on trust, truth, and above all else, simple love. I did what he wanted, and he would have done the same for me. We knew each other, respected each otherÕs wishes, and in a way, were one. But I canÕt help but feel guilty. I am MulderÕs murderer, yes, but not as of recently. The trigger I pulled three days ago was merely a simple way of helping him. He knew it and so did I. It was our way of showing each other that we loved one another. But Mulder died long before he stepped into that field November 13. He died almost thirty years ago, in a large auditorium, in front of almost a hundred spectators, and I, Dana Katherine Scully, was the one who killed him. I killed his hopes, his dreams, and his trust. The trust he had in the world, in the government... The trust he had in me. You could see it in his eyes that day, if you bothered to look. Something burnt out inside of him as I helped seal his fate. He never got a chance to find his sister, and I take full responsibility. He never returned to his office, to his X-Files, or to me. I saw life in him three weeks ago, when I met him again, for the first time in next to thirty years. His eyes had the spark I remembered: full of spunk, hope, and wisdom. I canÕt imagine why. IÕd like to hope it was because of me. Mulder is dead, and so he has been since 1999, and itÕs my fault. IÕve never looked on it that way before, but blame comes back to me. And I hope that now, wherever he is, Mulder has found himself, and his sister... ... And his faith in me. Life is unfair, true, but there are moments that are. I look back at the recent incidents in a different light, now, though, as fair. Fair to Mulder. Fair to me. ItÕs a scary thought: IÕve known him most of my life, and I still go by a last name basis. ItÕs a very heartbreaking situation: someone touches your life more than theyÕll ever know, and youÕre stuck calling them Mulder. Well, let it be known, *Fox*, that I love you. I always have. Always will. I hope where ever youÕve gone, you can see my hopes, see my hatred with my own actions, see my pleas for forgiveness.Oh, God. What have I done? Scully stopped, placing the notebook on the table beside her. Slowly, she leaned up towards the lamp that sat next to her bed. With a flick of the wrist, the light went out, wrapping the room in darkness. Somewhere, in a dark, rain soaked field, a lone fox ran free. ÒI love you, Dana.Ó Scully fell into a deep sleep.