Schisms (4/?)
by Singing Violin (Pearl on Ephemeral/Gossamer)

Email: perlner@mit.edu
Rating: PG/K+
Category: X-Files VRA
Spoilers: Conduit, I Want to Believe

Summary: What could possibly cause these two to break up? A series
of short stories explaining the reported status of Mulder and
Scully's relationship upon the revival miniseries.

Disclaimer: The X-Files characters and universe are not mine.
Archiving: Anywhere, as long as you let me know. I put stuff on AO3,
ffnet, and Ephemeral/Gossamer.


Chapter 4: Free

For the past seven years, Fox Mulder has had a new ritual. When he
walks into his bedroom, he closes his eyes, hoping that one day, when
he opens them, she'll be there, in bed, waiting for him.

Every day, he opens his eyes, and sees his bed empty, messy, just as
he left it that morning, and melancholy settles into his heart.

Not long after his new ritual began, they offered him a job in VCS.
He didn't have to wonder who pulled the strings. Somehow, he
hesitated. Despite the handwritten insistence, "Take the job! -S,"
he couldn't bring himself to fully embrace the opportunity.

So, he compromised. He's working part-time, in a consulting capacity.
It gives him the opportunity to pursue other projects, but also earns
him enough income so he can pay the bills.

There are no more X-Files, at least officially, but as a consultant,
it's ironically easier to stick his nose into cases that might once
have qualified. He doesn't have a regular caseload to attend to,
and his expense accounts don't land on the wrong desks.

He has no doubt someone -- or more than one someone -- is still
looking out for him. But they do it from afar; long gone are the days
when he could tape an X to his window and get the help he needed,
or make a phone call at 3am just to talk.

He still feels that last kiss lingering on his lips, tastes the salt
from her tears. He hadn't realized -- or hadn't accepted -- that
that kiss was goodbye.

"Please don't make this any harder than it already is."

He was desperate then, so desperate he offered to leave his whole
being behind just to make her happy.

She was charmed, at least for a moment. And so she embraced him,
kissed him, smiled at him as he made promises he couldn't keep.

And then she walked away.

And so far, she hasn't come back.

Each night, he dreams he is alone with her on the ocean, miles from
shore, where the darkness cannot penetrate. She lounges in a bikini
while he rows and watches, drinking in her happiness as she drinks
in the sunlight.

Each night, he awakens to the same lonely, messy bed.

It occurs to him that he hasn't even washed the sheets, not in seven
years, because they still smell a little like her, and he's afraid,
if he were to clean away the smell, the dream would dissipate too.

That's all he has left of her, and he's not ready to give it up.

But he understands why she did what she did; he needed to go where
she couldn't follow, where she wasn't strong enough anymore to
withstand it. She'd lost too much to continue, but she couldn't ask
him to be someone he wasn't, no matter how much she loved him.

So she walked away, and in doing so, set him free.

Logically, he knows he'd be unhappy if she'd stayed; he'd constantly
be pushing to pursue his interests of passion while she cringed from
the sidelines and occasionally was reluctantly pulled onto the field
of battle.

Still, he misses her.

Still, he hopes there'll be a day when she's ready to journey, once
more, at his side.

He knows now that there will never be a day he's ready to give up the
fight. Even when he thought he was, she urged him not to. She knows
better than he how much he needs this.

But does he need her too?

Seven years points to no.

And yet...every day, he still squeezes his eyes shut as he enters the
bedroom.

Perhaps one day, she'll return.