Thanks again to Michelle for a quick, painless (well, for me, anyway) beta read. ;)

All lyrics are from the Peter Gabriel song, "I Grieve." Copyright Real World Music Ltd.

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SHE GRIEVES
By: Jennifer Maurer

~*~

"It was only one hour ago
It was all so different then
Nothing yet has really sunk in
Looks like it always did
This flesh and bone
It's just the way that we are tied in
But there's no one home
I grieve
For you..."

~*~

Scully doesn't want to leave the hospital room, because it is the last place Melissa was alive. She wants to just sit and look at the empty bed and think about things for awhile.

Her mother is downstairs making arrangements for the disposition of the body. Her sister is "the body" now.

She doesn't call Mulder to tell him; she assumes he'll show up in his own time, and he'll find out then. When they parted, after the mysterious meeting in Viktor Klemper's greenhouse, he told her he needed to see his mother to find out why his name was on the folder under his sister's.

Scully is still somewhat surprised that Mulder acquiesced to her desire to make a deal. What good is evidence if we're dead, she said to him. She needed to see her sister. She would never say this to Mulder, but just then she didn't give a damn about alien hybrids. None of it seemed important anymore.

Now she understands some of what Mulder has gone through, losing his own sister. Scully understands this better than she ever wanted to.

After what seems like a very long time, Mulder comes into the room and finds her sitting there. Scully forces the words past the growing lump in her throat.

"It happened three hours ago. She went into surgery and, uh...the damage to her brain was worse than they had hoped. Her blood pressure started to rise and, uh...she slipped away. She died for me and I tried to tell her I was sorry, but I don't think she'll ever really know."

Mulder tries to reassure her, and puts his arm around her. Grateful, she leans into his shoulder. Scattered thoughts of justice and fate swirl around in her mind. Despite what Mulder says, this is about justice. Scully doesn't want to believe Melissa's death was fate, but the truth is, what else could it be? A few seconds either way, and Melissa wouldn't have been there at the wrong time.

So much has happened in the last week. Her name in the files, shooting Mulder, driving to New Mexico, thinking she had lost him in the boxcar fire. Coming home was supposed to be a respite from this turmoil. Making the deal was supposed to bring all this to an end. Instead, new avenues of pain have opened up: Melissa is dead, killed by a bullet meant for Scully. She hopes her family won't blame her, but they don't have to. Scully blames herself enough for all of them.

"I have to go," Scully says, pulling out of Mulder's embrace. "I want to see Melissa before they...take her."

She stands and walks to the door, not waiting for Mulder.

"Do you want me to...should I come, too?" he asks, hesitantly.

"No, I'll be fine." She doesn't look back at him when she says this.

"Scully...call me, okay? Let me know when the funeral is?"

She jerks her head in a nod, and walks away.

~*~

"The news that truly shocks is the empty, empty page
While the final rattle rocks its empty, empty cage
And I can't handle this
I grieve for you
You leave me..."

~*~

The morning of her sister's funeral, Scully dresses in black from head to toe. Even her underwear is black, a symbol of the sorrow that has settled around her like a second skin. She wishes hats with veils were in fashion, so she could hide her face; sunglasses will have to do.

Scully has told her family she will meet them at the funeral home, instead riding over with everyone from her mother's house. She feels the need to keep herself just a little bit separate from her family. She doesn't know if her mother has told her brothers exactly how it came to be that Melissa was shot in her apartment. She's not even entirely sure her mother has realized it yet. They may have guessed it was supposed to be Scully who was killed, but she would rather not find out for certain, not today. There will be more than enough time to blame her after all the formalities are done.

The schedule for today is: viewing at the funeral home, Mass at the church, burial at the cemetery, gathering at her mother's house. It's going to be a long, long day. Since Scully could theoretically still be a target, Skinner offered to provide her with armed escorts. Scully thanked him, but declined; she doesn't want that kind of attention on herself. Today is about Melissa. If someone wants to try to kill her, let them. She considers wearing her gun at the back of her waist, as she normally would, but decides not to. Even if Skinner's wrong and the deal he made doesn't hold, she'll take her chances.

One step at a time, Scully tells herself. One foot in front of the other. First the viewing, which is thankfully private. The Mass and burial are open to anyone, and she knows Mulder will be there. She's glad, however, that she will have a chance to be alone with just Melissa and her family first. Scully had thought she wouldn't want to see Melissa's body, afraid her clinical knowledge of just what her sister went through would make it too painful. Now, however, she realizes that she needs one last look, to say goodbye.

The rest of her family is already there when Scully arrives at the funeral home. Her brothers and their wives greet her warmly; Scully assumes this means they don't know yet that Melissa died in her place. She's tempted to blurt it out, just to get it over with. Her mother stands near the head of Melissa's casket, talking quietly with Father McCue, the parish priest. Various other relatives gather in little knots around the room. Scully hangs back until everyone else has finished looking at Melissa. She wants to do this alone. Her penance will begin with refusing the comfort of her family. Her guilt is a burden she'll always have to bear alone; she might as well start getting used to that now.

Scully approaches the coffin with slow steps, waiting until the last minute to raise her eyes and look upon her sister. Melissa is beautiful. As a pathologist, Scully knows all the tricks that must have been used to repair the damage. There is no evidence of the swelling and bruising of her face, the shorn section of hair and scar from brain surgery. Her mouth curves in a slight smile, no longer distorted by a breathing tube. Scully blinks, and her eyes burn with unshed tears. She reaches out one trembling hand and strokes her sister's cheek with the backs of her fingers. It's hard for her to really believe that something so cold and still could be her vibrant sister.

A soft touch on her arm startles her. She turns to see Father McCue standing next to her. The sympathy she sees on his face makes the lump in her throat grow until she can hardly breathe. She knows he's going to say something kind, but she wishes he wouldn't. She doesn't feel she deserves any sympathy. If there were truly justice in the world, it would be her lying in this coffin, not Melissa. Scully closes her eyes briefly, imagining what that would look like.

"Dana, I'm so sorry for your loss," he says softly.

She opens her mouth to reply, but only a whimper comes out. Please, just go away, she begs silently.

"If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know," he continues.

She nods and turns away from him, keeping her gaze firmly on her sister until the priest walks away. Scully is afraid that if she lets her defenses crumble even a little, she will start screaming and never stop. The urge to profess her responsibility for her sister's death is almost unbearable. She forces it down and gives a nod to the funeral director, who has discreetly materialized at her elbow. He quietly beckons the family around to take one last look before the coffin lid is shut.

Scully drives to the church alone, following the caravan of cars behind the hearse. Her mother and brothers are in the limousine the funeral home suggested for the family. Scully couldn't allow herself the comfort of riding with the family. Her car is last in line, just as she hung back from her family at the viewing. Cars line both curbs as they approach the church, and she wonders uneasily how many people will be here today.

She gathers with her family in the vestibule of the church; apparently the custom is for the priest to lead the family into the front pew after everyone else is seated. She's glad of this, because she doesn't want to face Mulder yet. She hasn't spoken to him since she saw him at the hospital; she called Skinner to inform him of the funeral arrangements, and asked him to pass the information along to Mulder. She knows that probably hurt Mulder's feelings, but she can't muster up the energy to care right now.

Scully positions herself at the end of the line, so she will be the last one to enter the church. It will also give her the aisle seat, in case she needs to make a quick getaway. If she can just stay on the edge of everyone's vision, she thinks, she'll be able to get through this.

She files in behind the rest of her family. She keeps her head down so her hair will curtain her face, but she peeks out to catch a glimpse of who is in attendance. The church is more crowded than she expected. Her eyes skim over rows of strangers, until she spots familiar faces. In the last row sit Mulder, Skinner, and...Frohike? Oddly, it is his presence that touches her the most. She expected Mulder and Skinner, but never imagined Frohike cared so much. Skinner is his usual somber self, and Mulder is...crying. For some reason this brings a flush of anger to her face. This is her loss, it has nothing to do with Mulder. She carries enough guilt of her own; she has no desire to deal with any he might be feeling.

As the service begins, Scully lets her mind wander. All these people want to talk about Melissa, remember her. Scully doesn't want to forget, exactly, but she just can't let herself process everything right now. She didn't know her sister very well as an adult. When they were children they had been close, but as the years went by they moved in opposite directions. In many ways, Melissa had more in common with Mulder than with her, Scully muses. Both of them willing to believe almost any possibility.

After the last hymn, Father McCue invites anyone who would like to speak about Melissa to come forward and do so. Several of her friends, whom Scully has never met, share memories that are new to her. It reminds her again that she knew very little about her sister. After the last person is finished, there is a long moment of silence. Scully feels like everyone is looking at her, expecting her to get up and say something. Again she has the urge to stand up and admit her complicity in what happened. It should have been me, she wants to say. That bullet was meant for me. They would all hate her then, but not any more than she hates herself.

"My name is Fox Mulder. I-I work with Melissa's sister, Dana."

Scully hunches her shoulders, trying to shrink out of sight. God damn him, she fumes. Why can't he keep his mouth shut? She can hear her mother crying. Her older brother has turned his head and she can feel his eyes boring into her. He knows, she realizes with dread.

"I met Melissa last year, during a...difficult time. She was, um, kind to me, very patient. She helped me when I was in a dark place."

Scully stares at her fists clenched in her lap. She is not going to move a muscle. She is not going to look at Mulder. Her face is red with suppressed anger. She's not exactly sure why his voice fills her with such rage, but if she had her gun, she thinks, she just might shoot him again.

No one else volunteers to speak after Mulder, and the priest brings the service to an end. He asks that everyone attending the burial please follow the procession to the cemetery. Afterwards there will be a reception at the home of Margaret Scully. The family invites everyone to attend.

Father McCue comes down to stand next to Scully, and she realizes the line of her family will go in reverse, and now she will lead everyone out instead of following. It doesn't seem right that she should be first, but there's nothing she can do about it now. She and the priest lead her mother and brothers out of the sanctuary. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Mulder heading for the side aisle of the church, and realizes he means to intercept her and speak to her. Jesus, I can't do this now, she thinks.

"Mom, I'm going to ride to the cemetery with you," she whispers. Her mother just nods. Scully slips out the door, thankful for the limousine; tinted windows will do better than a veil. Inside, she presses herself into the back of the seat as if it could swallow her. She flinches at every sound, worried that Mulder will come tapping at the window, wanting to see her. All Scully can manage today is to bury her sister. Everything else will have to wait, including him.

During the drive to the cemetery, Scully's mother is silent. Scully wants to ask her if she knows Melissa died for her, but is afraid of the answer. She wonders if her mother is angry with her for not being there, if she will ever be able to explain why she had to send Albert Hosteen in her place. The silence stretches out until breaking it seems just as unbearable as keeping quiet. Before Scully can bring herself to speak, they've arrived.

Scully sits next to her mother on the chairs set up by the grave. She feels vulnerable out in the open like this. There's no way she can hide from anyone now. Slipping her sunglasses on, she keeps her eyes downcast until everyone has arrived and Father McCue begins the graveside service.

She sees Skinner standing alone in the crowd on the other side of the coffin. She wonders if her coldness scared Mulder away. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she turns her head a little to each side, and then she spots him. He and Frohike are standing about fifty yards away, underneath a big oak tree. He's afraid to get too close, she realizes, and the thought brings her a little mean satisfaction. He's looking right at her, but with her sunglasses on, he can't tell whether she's meeting his gaze, which suits her fine.

Logically she knows she doesn't blame Mulder for Melissa's death, not really. The choices that led up to this were hers alone. She could think "what if" all day, and it would still add up to the same thing. At this moment, however, Scully hates him. Mulder and his fucking aliens. He pissed off the wrong people this time, and someone had to pay the price. She ignores the fact that Mulder has paid himself many times over. Right now, all she can think is that if it weren't for him, her sister would still be alive.

She is brought out of these angry thoughts by Skinner's gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

"Agent Scully," he murmurs in sympathy.

Startled, she realizes the service is over. People have started to drift away. Scully asks her family to give her a few minutes.

When everyone is gone, Scully stands at Melissa's coffin. She places her palms on the sun-warmed wood and tries to absorb the fact that this is the closest she can ever be to her sister again. Soon six feet of earth and who knows what distance of souls will separate them. She doesn't want to leave Melissa alone in the dark like that.

Scully wants to believe she will see her sister again someday. Right now, though, all she can think about is the immediate absence: no more birthday cards, Christmas presents, holiday dinners. Melissa will be an empty space in the family from this moment on.

"Dana?"

She looks up to see Frohike standing next to her. Mulder, she can see, still lurks in the shade of the tree.

"Thanks for coming," she says in a cracked voice that sounds nothing like her own.

"If there's anything I can do..." he says. She shakes her head. These are the things everyone says when there's a death. They don't really mean anything. Unless someone can turn back the clock, they can't help her.

"Is it okay if Mulder...?" Frohike tilts his head, gesturing behind him. Her anger comes back when she realizes Mulder sent Frohike over to make sure it was okay to approach her. Damn him, she thinks. Did he have to make this into one of his dramas, too?

"Of course," is what she says aloud. It's not Mulder's fault, she reminds herself. It's his quest, but she joined him willingly. It was her name in those files. Whoever killed Melissa wasn't looking for him.

To her surprise, Frohike gives her a brief, fierce hug. There is more depth to this little man than she imagined. Thrown off balance emotionally, she hugs him back. She wishes she could just hang onto him so Mulder would stay away.

Frohike squeezes her hand, then walks away, nodding to Mulder. Scully pushes her sunglasses up her nose and braces herself for this encounter. Part of her wants to run as fast and as far away from Mulder as she can, and try to forget there was ever such a thing as the X-Files. Another part of her wants to throw herself in his arms and sob out all the anguish she has been keeping inside. Her grip on her emotions is strong, but she knows it's not going to last forever.

Mulder stands next to her, a little too close. He shifts from one foot to the other; he seems to be trying to find words. Scully could help him by breaking the silence herself, but she doesn't.

"I'm sorry, Scully," is all he says. If he starts in on his speech about personal choice and fate and the truth being in the X-Files, she's going to scream. She doesn't trust her voice, so she just nods. She knows he's sorry about much more than her sister's death. She doesn't want to say anything that will encourage him to take this guilt for himself. It belongs to her.

Scully waits for Mulder to say something else, but he just stares at her silently. She looks back at him, then down at Melissa's coffin. Two tears escape, and she smears them away with her fingertips. This is not how she wanted to handle this; she wanted to keep her emotions firmly in check.

Mulder slips his arm around Scully's shoulders and squeezes briefly. Before she can think about it, she starts sobbing. This one gesture from him has touched something inside her that nothing else could reach. She pulls off her sunglasses and presses her hands to her eyes as if that could hold back her tears. Mulder wraps both arms around her and sways gently back and forth as she cries into his chest. Scully doesn't hate him anymore; in this moment, he is the only one she wants with her.

When she has cried herself out, Scully gently pulls away. She gives him a weak smile and pats his arm, to thank him, and let him know it's okay to leave her alone. After he walks away, she remains standing there. She wants to be the last one to leave her sister.

Scully touches the coffin one last time, then turns and walks towards her family. The first steps are the most difficult; the first steps she takes into this new life, a life where she no longer has a sister.

~*~

"I grieve for you
and you leave me, alone
so hard to move on
still loving what's gone
they say life carries on
carries on and on and on..."

~*~

End