Disclaimer: Strike up the band, it's time for the disclaimer dance! Mulder, Scully and Skinner are property of FOX Television, 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, and probably a bunch of other people. And I am nothing if not a poor college kid with tuition to pay, with no money for a court case so don't get any ideas all of you suit types.

Special Agent Fox Mulder wanted the world to go to hell. He had had enough, enough of the lies and half-truths that he found himself surrounded by. One step forward, three steps back. He felt like he was running non-stop in circles, never finding the right path. He had always found the inner strength to keep going, a faith in something he didn't understand. But the past few months had found him losing his resolve and desire to continue in the fight. For some reason, he was losing the ability to keep a faith in himself or his work.

So many horrors had been thrown at him by forces unseen. It seemed to have started when he was just a boy, when Samantha had been taken right in front of his eyes. Throughout the years, it continued. When he found the X-Files, he believed that he finally had the means by which to solve the mysteries forced upon his life. It was during his work on the X-Files he discovered how little he really knew about his life, his parents, and even his employers.

His hazel eyes were shadowed by more recent horrors, inflicted upon the person who he cared about more than himself. Scully. She had endured multiple journeys to hell and back as a result of her devotion to Fox Mulder. And he both loved and hated her for it. He loved the fire which kept her by his side, fighting a fight which she never wanted to believe in. He hated the guilt that kept her running back to save him, when she would probably be better off to just let him go.

Light flickered across the ceiling of his darkened apartment from a car driving by outside. However, as Mulder sat, dejected on his couch, he paid it little attention. His thoughts were turned inward. The longer he sat, staring at his hands, he lost the ability to care bit by little bit. A tear escaped his right eye, trickling down his cheek as a sob racked his lean frame. As he sat, tears in his eyes, he tried to remember where everything had changed for him. When had he lost the thirst to believe?

Time was supposed to heal wounds, but the advance of time seemed only to give those who fought against him opportunity to lash out yet again. During Scully's abduction, Mulder's grasp on right and wrong, and even reality were tenuous at best. That time was hell, however they had grown stronger as a result of the terrible plot enacted against Scully as a result of her association with Mulder. She recovered, and they sought to persevere. He still felt a special pain in his heart because of what she had endured, and an ache because he loved her so much to see her suffer because of him.

He had long ago believed his heart to be an empty dead place. After losing Samantha, and then his misguided affair with Phoebe, well, he didn't believe he should let himself feel. But he still did, only he controlled what he allowed himself to feel. He never let go of his guilt over Samantha, but it was a shadow of real emotion. After Phoebe he saw love as a fools quest. Love, of any type, was only a means to let someone hurt you. And he didn't want to be hurt again.

Somehow, Scully had worked her way into his heart in such a short period of time, that when she was taken away, it was all he could do to stay sane. But she had come back, and the guilt and shame had faded somewhat. Things in the X-Files division were never what one would call great, but for a while they had been good. For a while. Yet, the shadow forces always on the fringes surrounding them had another surprise in store. Cancer.

He would forever remember the day she had called him to the oncology ward. Never would he forget the feeling in his heart as she spoke those words. I have cancer echoed in his mind. As he stood there, holding in the scream that wanted to tear from his chest, it felt like someone had taken a dull knife to his heart. Images of his life, now only complete with her in it, flashed in his mind. Images of living through the future without her, seared his soul.

Again, in the end, the partners had triumphed over the phantom forces. She had been strong, but he had felt so weak. After the news of her remission, he had gone home and cried for what felt like hours. Even with the victory, he was scared of what revelation would befall them in the near future. For while he felt hope restored from Scully's new lease on life, paranoia was still a key element in him, and he retreated inside his heart just a little bit. Having had met Samantha, or who was supposed to be Samantha and receiving such a cool reception from she who he'd dedicated his life to finding, he'd retreated just a little more.

He hadn't moved. Silence echoed in his lonely apartment, emanating from every feature. Finally, the tears building in his eyes began to fall. Since that time, things in the basement office had been stressed. However, they had been striving to regain the level of intimacy in their professional relationship. Another blow had come in the form of Emily. The little girl was, to Mulder, a symbol of his failure to protect Scully from Duane Barry. As a result he pulled a little further away.

Piece by piece, bit by bit, Mulder became less himself, and more an empty being. With each new blow, his psyche was to fearful to come back out. With all that those working against him had taken away from him, he hated the changes it made in himself the most.

He wanted the world to go to hell. He wanted the men in suits who sought to ruin his life to go to hell. But, sitting alone in his apartment, he knew how futile those wants were. He had reached such a level of despair that he saw no other way out. He stood, and walked over to his desk where his gun was lying. He picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his hand.

Seeing the phone on the desk reminded him of Scully, and the fight he would be leaving her to endure alone. However, he consoled himself with the thought that once he was gone, she would be safe. He placed the gun down, and found a piece of paper. He wrote, quickly spelling out what he wanted to say. He addressed it to Scully, cruel he knew, but she was the only one he could thing would care enough to want to know.

*****
Scully,
Forgive me this, even though I know you might hate me for it.
I've come to believe that I cannot go on with the way things
have been. You're strong, you'll be fine as you are so fond of
telling me. Live your life, and be happy. Always know that
I loved you, my best friend, my other half.

Yours,
Fox
*****

He finished writing and placed the letter on the coffee table. He stood motionless for a few moments, then there was a knock at the door. Glancing at the clock, he retrieved his gun and warily walked toward the door. He was almost to the door when he heard the sound of a key in the lock. Shit he thought, it's Scully. Quickly, putting the gun back, he laid down on the couch feigning sleep, forgetting the note on the coffee table in his rush.

Mulder saw her hair first, a red flame in the dark of his apartment, seeming to glow because of the light out in the hall. However, as her gaze turned in his direction, he closed his eyes. She tentatively stepped into Mulder's apartment, calling out his name. She heard him stir in response, and saw his long frame on the couch. She didn't turn on the overhead light so as to not disturb him. Scully still wasn't sure what had convinced her to come over in the middle of the night anyway.

After making sure he was okay, she opened the door to the hallway and was about to leave when something caught her eye. The coffee table was empty, save one sheet of paper. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she walked over to the table and retrieved the paper. The color drained from her face as she read the words before her. Her hands trembling, she crossed over to stand next to Mulder, feeling for a pulse.

Mulder jumped up at her touch, started from his rouse. "Shit, Scully. What are you trying to do, scare me to death?" He was practically yelling, but he didn't care.

Scully blinked, trying to grasp the situation. When shock finally fled from her features, anger took its place. "Me scare you? What . . . Mulder, what is going on? What is this letter about?" She motioned toward the paper in her hand.

Mulder paled as he realized what paper she was referring to. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was doing this to keep her from getting hurt again.

"Well?" Her voice was insistent, and she was in her pissed off pose. She usually reserved that particular pose for when he had ditched her and she finally caught up to him.

He looked at his partner, slumping down onto the couch, a defeated air about him. "Just what it says, Scully. It's just, it's just too hard anymore. I wanted to keep you from getting hurt again," his eyes were pleading with hers.

"You thought this wouldn't hurt?" Even through her anger, her eyes reflected the anguish at the idea of losing him to his own hand.

Standing, he walked over to the window and looked out across the city. "I guess maybe I didn't think. I'm just so sick of being a pawn in a game that I'll never know the rules to."

"Mulder, as long as we face it together, we'll manage. You can't leave me here to face it alone." While she spoke, she walked over to stand behind Mulder. Scully, placed her hand on his back, and he turned to look at her. She was surprised by the amount of emotion boiling within the hazel depths.

However, she was even more surprised when he pulled her toward him into a crushing embrace. He burrowed his face in her shoulder, and she could feel the damp tears on his cheeks and her jacket. They stood like that for several minutes, until Mulder finally let go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She looked into his face, seeing the scared little boy hidden in his eyes. "Don't be. Just don't leave me, okay?" She had tears in her own eyes, and she reached her hand up to wipe away the last few tears on his face.

He pulled her back to him, rubbing her hair as he held her and she held him. "Okay, Scully. Thank you." Somehow, Mulder felt a little of his faith returning. With Scully by his side, he felt like he could stop retreating inside himself, and begin to emerge. Together, that was the only way they could manage in the game. The fight might be hard, but it was a fight they had to make.

"We're here for each other, Mulder. That's part of the best friend contract, didn't you read the fine print?" She grinned a little as she spoke.

"Oops, knew I should have read that a little more closely," he said with a grin that mirrored Scully's.

"Too bad, Mulder. You've already signed on the dotted line, we're stuck with each other."

He smiled a brilliant smile that Scully rarely saw, but loved all the same, "Good." Maybe he could manage to keep his faith.

fin

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