Title: Gossamer Thin
Author: Trixie
Email: scullymulder1121@hotmail.com
Classification: V, A (subtle MSR, but it's there)
Rating: PG
Archive: Go right ahead.
Spoilers: SUZ (spoilers of part of the spoilers I've read for Closure, if
that counts) post-ep. Apparently if all the kids in my class jumped off a
bridge, I =would= jump off after them.
Summary: "Today, his eyes have been closed to me, his thoughts concealed
behind gossamer-thin wings of pain."

Thanks: to Brandon, for the beta, and for telling me it was cool and to
post it.

Disclaimer: " . . . . . . . . . . . ."

Feedback: isn't just a loop . . .

~

In all my life, I've never truly been alone.

I grew up with siblings and parents, the occasional relative coming to
visit. I had the church, fellow parishioners, and friends, students I had
goals in common with. All my life, I never felt alone. I never felt alone
until after I met Mulder.

No matter who I'm with now, if it isn't him, I feel alone. I am always
alone without him.

He is alone now.

I watch him silently, his gaze never wavering from the clump-thud sound of
dirt on coffin. It rains softly, drizzling really, and the only mourners
that still remain are my partner and I.

Mulder introduced me as his friend, Dana, to all those who spoke to him
today. I say spoke to him, because Mulder didn't in any way solicit their
attention. But he was her son; her only remaining child. And they were very
sorry for his loss.

>From the corner of my eye I saw him here. Cancer Man, CGB Spender, that
black lunged son of a bitch. Whatever name he goes by, his shadow lurked as
the body of Teena Mulder was lowered into the ground; watched as Mulder
stood, face reflecting an indifference I knew he did not feel. He knew the
old man was there, too. I know he did. I felt within him the temptation to
go to him, to threaten his life, to take out a measure of the rage and
impotence inside him on a man responsible for so much pain.

Instead he took my hand and we stood in the place we still stand now,
watching as the last of Mulder's family was laid to rest.

"Even knowing what she was trying to tell me . . . I can't come to terms
with the way she chose to end her life."

His words startle me. I hadn't expected him to speak until we were in the
car later. Perhaps not even until we'd reached his apartment. It would
appear that whatever conversation Mulder wants to have, we will be
having it here, in the rain and the mud.

"I don't believe we ever truly understand why someone we love decides to
kill themselves, Mulder."

Often, I can tell what Mulder is thinking by looking into his eyes. Today,
his eyes have been closed to me, his thoughts concealed behind
gossamer-thin wings of pain. He holds this pain close to himself, shrouding 
the tattered remnants of all he has left like precious jewels.

I want to take him in my arms, but his posture is unyielding. He is holding
himself up by the legs of his torment, and until I find a way to break
through to his mind, his body won't let me close.

"The people I saw today, the distant relatives, old family friends, they
told me something with their eyes." He waits until he's sure he's got my
full attention. As though I'd give him anything less. "They pity me."

"You've lost your mother." And been forced to come to terms with your
sister's death, all in the same week, I want to add. I don't. It isn't
something he's ready to talk about yet. Not more than he already has.

"They don't pity me because my mother is dead. They pity me because I'm
alone now."

"Mulder." My hand reaches up now, firmly clasping his forearm through the
black cashmere coat he wears. I bought him that coat for his birthday after
his was ruined by something slimy I can't really recall at the moment.

A humorless chuckle leaves his mouth. Almost as soon as this display of
emotion begins, it's over. His gaze is focused on the horizon, seemingly
paying little attention to my presence. I know better. We are always aware
of each other. It's the only reason we're able to be so still.

"I've been alone for a very long time. Her death didn't create that
aloneness. It just showed it to the world."

"You're not alone, Mulder," I find myself telling him, contradicting my own
thoughts a few short minutes ago.

He looks at me, looks =into= me, his gaze probing until I feel myself bare
before him. Instead of looking away, I let him see. I give myself to
him, in the rain and the silence, promising him so many things. You haven't 
been alone in years, I tell him with the softening in my eyes. You will never 
be alone again, I elaborate with my hand, sliding up his arm until I can cup
his cheek against my palm.

"I've felt alone from the moment they took her." I don't have to ask who
"her" is. We both know. "Scully . . ."

Not so unyielding any longer, I wrap my arms around his neck and press my
cheek to his. I feel his arms go around my back, holding me as close as
possible through our heavy coats.

"Let me take you home, Mulder." My whispered words in his ear have no need
for clarification. He understands what they mean.

And he lets me take him home.

End

"I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than
live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it."
Which is probably why I read & write so much X-Files fanfic . . . <g>