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applecameronAuthor: SV, 1998.
Title: My Only Friend, the End
Fandom: X-Files
Author's Notes:An X-Files, oh, character-study-vignette, I suppose, continuation of that final scene sort of thing. Angst, Mulder/Scully, no X-File per se, no romance, just
shell-shock, pure and simple.
Reprinted by permission
by Sidra Vitale
My apologies to Jim Morrison.
Mulder knew something was wrong, from Skinner's face. The firemen unloading from the elevator. Scully slowed, dreading what lay waiting for them. Sometimes knowing for sure wasn't better. Paused only briefly before she turned to follow her partner down the stairs. She'd seen the Assistant Director shake his head.
There was nothing left. They could both see it at a glance, Scully's gasp inaudible from the doorway. She moved forward, into what was left of the basement office. Of the X-Files. Of them. It was too much to even register, so she turned back to Mulder.
The lost look on his face -- now she knew what he looked like when Samantha was taken. When she was taken. The empty helplessness. There was only one thing left to do. As if by rote, they came together. Bodies not even touching, just the shell of an embrace, Scully's fingers the only thing alive in her. As if she was all that was keeping Mulder there, in the world, in the FBI, in his own skin. Clutching Mulder's arms like they were the last connection to his body.
There was nothing to do, there was nothing to say, there were no tears.
They stayed there and waited, almost calmly, hearts beating a little faster than normal, breathing the smoky air. For someone to tell them what to do. For whatever came next. For the future, with no fight left except the clenching of Scully's fingers. The resolution, the connection between them burned away to nothing but the pads of her fingertips.
"Agent Scully." More softly. "Agent Mulder." Skinner in the doorway. Mulder didn't move but Scully shifted, following the larger man with her gaze, unsurprised. "Go home." He moved to put a hand on Mulder's shoulder, but let it drop.
Their eyes met and she pulled back from the distance, studying his words at great length: the babblings of a madman, the foreign words of an unknown tongue. "Both of you. Go home. There's nothing you can do here, right now. Go."
And as they shuffled for the door, one unit, his eyes on their backs as Scully pushed them forward, "My office first thing tomorrow."
"Yes, sir." Came the whisper.
Scully got them out to her car by not thinking about what they left behind, not thinking about what lay ahead. She didn't remember driving them, knew only that she went to the closest apartment, locked the door, and sat two bodies as one on a sofa.
With that last task completed, she put her head in her hands and waited for her tears to come up. They didn't.
What came instead was Mulder. Arm. Alive. Warm. Around her shoulders. Holding her close.
They leaned back together and began the long wait until dawn. Until the future.
Title: My Only Friend, the End
Fandom: X-Files
Author's Notes:An X-Files, oh, character-study-vignette, I suppose, continuation of that final scene sort of thing. Angst, Mulder/Scully, no X-File per se, no romance, just
shell-shock, pure and simple.
Reprinted by permission
by Sidra Vitale
My apologies to Jim Morrison.
Mulder knew something was wrong, from Skinner's face. The firemen unloading from the elevator. Scully slowed, dreading what lay waiting for them. Sometimes knowing for sure wasn't better. Paused only briefly before she turned to follow her partner down the stairs. She'd seen the Assistant Director shake his head.
There was nothing left. They could both see it at a glance, Scully's gasp inaudible from the doorway. She moved forward, into what was left of the basement office. Of the X-Files. Of them. It was too much to even register, so she turned back to Mulder.
The lost look on his face -- now she knew what he looked like when Samantha was taken. When she was taken. The empty helplessness. There was only one thing left to do. As if by rote, they came together. Bodies not even touching, just the shell of an embrace, Scully's fingers the only thing alive in her. As if she was all that was keeping Mulder there, in the world, in the FBI, in his own skin. Clutching Mulder's arms like they were the last connection to his body.
There was nothing to do, there was nothing to say, there were no tears.
They stayed there and waited, almost calmly, hearts beating a little faster than normal, breathing the smoky air. For someone to tell them what to do. For whatever came next. For the future, with no fight left except the clenching of Scully's fingers. The resolution, the connection between them burned away to nothing but the pads of her fingertips.
"Agent Scully." More softly. "Agent Mulder." Skinner in the doorway. Mulder didn't move but Scully shifted, following the larger man with her gaze, unsurprised. "Go home." He moved to put a hand on Mulder's shoulder, but let it drop.
Their eyes met and she pulled back from the distance, studying his words at great length: the babblings of a madman, the foreign words of an unknown tongue. "Both of you. Go home. There's nothing you can do here, right now. Go."
And as they shuffled for the door, one unit, his eyes on their backs as Scully pushed them forward, "My office first thing tomorrow."
"Yes, sir." Came the whisper.
Scully got them out to her car by not thinking about what they left behind, not thinking about what lay ahead. She didn't remember driving them, knew only that she went to the closest apartment, locked the door, and sat two bodies as one on a sofa.
With that last task completed, she put her head in her hands and waited for her tears to come up. They didn't.
What came instead was Mulder. Arm. Alive. Warm. Around her shoulders. Holding her close.
They leaned back together and began the long wait until dawn. Until the future.