TITLE: Till The End Of Time
AUTHOR: Brynna
EMAIL ADDRESS: ingos_grrl@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: anywhere you deem it worthy. If you’ve got a
second, I wouldn’t mind a note tho; I like to visit my ‘kids.’
FEEDBACK: you know you wanna.
SPOILERS: Milagro
RATING: ?
CLASSIFICATION: A/almost back to MSR (are you enjoying these yet? lol)
SUMMARY: Mulder again . . . and it’s ALMOST over.

Disclaimer: ~ looking down at self ~ Sure, okay, I see the resemblance
to the cool surfer-dude genius who lives in the Palisades (CC) and the
cool computer-goddess who lives in the greater Seattle area (me) sure, I
do.

“I . . .” I hear her voice falter, but I still don’t look up at her.

“I love you Mulder.” My heart clenches slightly, just hearing those
words. I’m about to look at her, when I hear her continue. “But I don’t
even know how to do that right.”

Shit.

I barely hear her footsteps, but the sound of the door closing is as
loud as a gunshot. However, I remain on the floor.

I should go after her, I really should. But something tells me she
doesn’t want me to.

And I don’t know if it’s better to listen to myself, or her.

I usually listen to me, and then she gets hurt. Maybe I should try it
the other way.

Slowly, I force myself up, and walk to her window. Looking out, I see
her standing in the middle of the sidewalk, rain pouring heavily down
around her. She’s shivering in her t-shirt, but she doesn’t appear to
care.

As I watch, she walks away, toward the park that’s a couple of blocks
from here.

What she wants be damned.

Reaching blindly, I grab her jacket from the hook by her door, and head
out of the apartment.

Practically running, feeling my feet slip out from under me once or
twice, I catch up with her quickly, and without saying anything, drape
the jacket over her shoulders. She jumps at the touch, and I think that
had she had her gun, she would’ve pulled it.

“We have to talk. And I mean really talk. None of this running away
because it gets too hard bullshit.” She stares up at me for a moment,
but doesn’t speak. Finally, she nods, and turns again, still heading for
the park.

No one’s there.  The rain is coming down in buckets, we probably
shouldn’t be out here, but if this is where she wants to be . . .

There’s a small playground in the center of the park, and I follow her
towards it. She sits in one of the swings, and for a brief moment,
wrapped in her coat, her wet hair stinging around her face, I get a
glimpse of what she must’ve been like as a child. But she blinks, and
turns to me, and it’s gone. There’s a rather expectant look on her face;
I realize she’s waiting for me to start this one.

Fair enough.

If I knew how.

I slowly sit in the swing next to her, turning to look at her. I feel
like we’re a pair of teenagers on our first date, with the awkwardness
that surrounds us.

Reaching over, I brush a strand of hair from her eyes. “I don’t even
know what to tell you Scully,” I whisper, barely audible above the
falling rain around us. “I probably should have seen this, but I didn’t.
I honestly didn’t realize that you were feeling so lost.”

“What did I tell you about playing shrink?” she asks sharply, refusing
to look at me.

“Don’t?”

She nods once. “And what are you doing?”

I have to smile sheepishly at that. “Playing shrink. I’m sorry, I just
don’t know any other way to do this.”

Her head slowly pivots on her neck, to look me in the eye. “Then why do
it?”

 The smile instantly leaves my face. “Because I want us to work this
out. I’m sick of constantly having to walk on eggshells around you,
sure, but damnit Scully,” I reach over and take her hands, squeezing
hard. “Do you even realize that I would gladly do that the rest of my
life, if I have to? If that is the only way that I can be around you,
I’ll do it.” I stare down into her eyes, until she finally looks away.
“Do you honestly want that?”

Slowly, she looks back at me, and her head shakes. Once. “No,” she
whispers. “But Mulder, I don’t know how to do this, I’m afraid to learn,
and we can’t make us work otherwise.”

I only hear one part of that sentence. “Why are you afraid?” I ask
softly, finally loosening my hold on her hands, but not letting them go.
“Are you afraid of me?”

“I already answered that question Mulder,” she mumbles, her eyes
averting once again.

Letting her hands drop, causing the swings to move away slightly, my
eyes shut. Slowly, I move, and kneel on the cold, wet sand in front of
the swing she’s on. “Not quite. Are you afraid to get close to me?
That’s what I’m asking.”

As I blink my eyes open to look at her, I see tears slipping down her
cheeks, mingling with the raindrops. “I’m afraid of myself, with you.
I’m afraid of who I am, and more-so, who I’m not, when I’m with you
Mulder.” She lays her hand on my cheek for a moment. “It’s not you I’m
afraid of, when I really think about it,” she tells me, her voice so
soft that I can barely hear her. “It’s me.”

Oh god do I understand that.

Leaning up slightly, I kiss her forehead. “Scully, I want you to be
happy. That, above everything else, is what’s important.” Swallowing,
finding it difficult, I feel tears pricking my eyes. “I think you should
go away for a while. Just a couple weeks, assess things. Then, if you
find that you’re better off without me, I want you to leave.”

She doesn’t argue with me, and I don’t expect her to.

“I love you, probably too much to be good for you,” I whisper, as I
stand, my fingers touching her hair softly. “And if you need to be away
from me, then that’s what I want for you.” Slowly, I turn, walking
toward my car.

~~~~

She’s been gone almost two weeks. I arranged for three. Skinner didn’t
even look up from his desk as I requested it for her. He didn’t ask why
I was, either. I think he knew. He’s a smart guy.

I’ve gone through my apartment five or six times, and totally cleaned.
I’ve re-arranged, and then put it all back.

I’m so afraid she won’t come back.

And part of me is afraid she will. Mostly, because she’s Scully and
she’s likely to come back, simply for me. She’s stayed, I know, many
times simply because she knows how much I need her. But I don’t want
that. I won’t allow it, not this time. Something’s gotten too far
off-track for her, she has to live for herself, not for me.

Living for me is slowly killing her, from the inside out.

I went to work twice since she’s been gone. I don’t care anymore. Not
now, anyway. Things being in limbo don’t exactly inspire me to go look
for the paranormal.

And if she leaves, I don’t know if I’ll continue. I’m not sure I can,
without her. For so long, this was my quest, my search for the answers.
But Scully worked her way into it, and now I’m not sure =I= can keep it
up without her.

I don’t like needing to have people around, my father always told me
that needing people was a sign of weakness, and as a child . . . it
scarred me slightly.

Scully watches my back, she saves my life, and she sustains my soul.
She’s my life, and I need her.

I should stop this, I’m just making her being gone worse.

I called her mother yesterday. Mrs. Scully all but yelled at me for
hurting her baby, and then apologized rather profusely, saying she knew
how much I loved her daughter, and that I didn’t deserve that. Sure I
did. But have you ever tried to convince a mother they’re wrong about
anything?

I had just called her to see if she’d heard from Scully; I just wanted
to know if she was okay.

I never did find out.

Mrs. Scully and I had a nice, long talk, actually. About what makes us
love one another, and why we seem to always hurt those that matter most.
She told me about her relationship with Scully’s father. How they used
to fight like there was no tomorrow (her words, thank you) and they’d
always end up saying something to one another that they knew, as the
words were leaving their mouths, would hurt.

She explained that the reason was simply that they didn’t know how to do
anything else. They had both been raised seeing that - fighting - as how
you dealt with what was wrong. And that yes, they’d hurt each other, but
they knew that they loved one another, and they could work through
things, because of that.

Scully, she told me, used to always come to her after Mrs. Scully and
her husband had had a fight, and she tried to hide her emotions from her
daughter. That’s where she picked it up. She watched her mother.

When I finally hung up the phone, I had quite an interesting insight
into Scully’s psyche.

But I still didn’t know how she was.

Sighing, I get up, and walk to the window, staring out. There’s a little
bit of sun poking through the clouds, but the rain’s still falling,
rather hard.

Maybe I should call the Gunmen, see what they’re up to.

Something to get my mind off Scully.

Okay, that’s laughable. And not going to happen.

I miss her.