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I Didn't Hear You Leave.
CLASSIFICATION - Post-ep. Maggie Scully POV. Angst. V This is for you Peg - I know how much you miss her.
"I think you should come over here." I had taken a moment to place that voice. Somewhere deep in my memory I had recognised it, just like I recognised the name. *Walter Skinner* Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Of the FBI. My daughter's boss. Calling me from my daughter's apartment. In the middle of the day. "Why...has something happened? Is it Dana? Is she okay?" So many questions had tumbled from my mouth before I even had a chance to really think about whether I wanted to hear his answers or not. It seems like the only time this man has ever spoken to me it has been to deliver bad news. Why should today be any different? I hear his hesitation for just a heartbeat and despite all my efforts to stay calm, to not jump to any misguided conclusions, I feel my grip on the handset tighten and my mind helpfully supplies his response before he even utters it. <She's dead> "She's fine Mrs Scully...but I think you should get over here if you can. We're a little concerned about her" I close my eyes. <Thank God.> She's alive. Anything else I can cope with. "Why? What's happened?" I have to ask the question. Some part of me already recognises the gravity of this situation. Not just because I can clearly hear the strain in Mr Skinner's voice but also because Dana needs me. I've almost forgotten what it's like for her to admit that to me. I've hardly heard two words from her in the last three months or so and when she has called it's been mostly small talk. <How are you honey?> <<I'm fine Mom>> <How's Mulder?> <<He's fine>> *Fine* How I've come to hate that word. But I know my daughter. I know that no amount of pushing will get her to admit need if she doesn't want to. All I can do is be here for her, supplying a shoulder for her to lean on should she need it. I trust her enough to know that she will always come to me. Or at least I thought I did. "It's not Dana, Mrs Scully. It's Mulder. We found him..." <Found him?> "...he's...I'm afraid we didn't get to him in time. He's dead." I feel my legs begin to buckle beneath me, growing weak at the knees as his final words sink in and I grasp a hold of the corner of the couch in an effort to remain upright. <He's dead?> Oh my God. This can't be happening. How can he be dead? "Mrs Scully?" I blink stupidly at the sound of his voice, a hundred questions swirling around my brain, even as I force the words from my mouth. "You said you found him?" I query uncertainly, some part of me knowing that I'm not going to like his answer one bit. "What do you mean you *found* him?" At the other end of the phone line I can almost see this man's eyes dart around the room. Seeking escape from my question, because suddenly everything is falling in to place for me. The last three months where I've seen neither hide nor hair of my daughter. A handful of hurried, awkward conversations with her. Where I knew something was bothering her and I never took the time to ask. Maybe because I knew she wouldn't tell me. <How's Mulder?> <<He's fine>> I listen to Mr Skinner's words and I can literally feel the fury building up inside of me. Fury towards the one person I love most in this world. My darling daughter. My sweet baby girl who has lied to me on every occasion we have spoken for the past three months. That same child I nurtured and protected for the better part of my life has turned away from me when she needed me most. Who has kept from me a truth I both needed and deserved to hear. Who has faced this alone. Just when did she block me from her life so completely? When did she choose to close the door on that special relationship I thought we shared? Whenever it was I didn't hear her leave. I never heard her footsteps receding in to the distance as she separated herself from me. It's painfully obvious that the man on the other end of this telephone line has no inkling that I was unaware of what has been happening in my daughter's life for the last few months. That everything he is now stuttering and stammering out was, until five minutes ago, news to me. And I almost feel sorry for him. Almost but not quite. Because right now all I want to do is to get to my daughter. I want to scream at her. I want to grab her by the shoulders, let the tears stream unchecked down my face and demand an explanation from her as to how she could do this to me. How dare she? How *dare* she keep something like this from me? What gives her the right to go through this alone? To lie to me all this time? To keep from me my right as her mother to ease her suffering? I am trembling now. Both from the news that has been delivered to me and also because at this moment in time I could kill her. I've felt like this only once before. When she was diagnosed with Cancer and waited a whole *week* to bring me in on the act. When I walked into her hospital room and looked at her sitting in that bed I found myself wanting to cross the space that separated us and literally shake some sense in to her. My darling daughter. My smart, beautiful, intelligent daughter who can be so damn *stupid* it takes my breath away sometimes. I wonder how I will face her after what she has done. How I can bear to even be in the same room as her knowing, *knowing* that she didn't trust me enough to confide in me? That I had to discover this from a stranger? That I will have to live every minute of every day for the rest of my life with the knowledge that she walked away from me when it mattered most? <How's Mulder?> <<He's fine>> So many lies. How could she *do* this to me? How could she do this to *herself*? And then, as suddenly as it came, the anger is gone and I feel the tears well up in my eyes. Because all the anger in the world won't take away from me what I need to do now. It wouldn't matter to me what she did. Not really. Because all I really want to do is to take her in my arms and show her how much I love her. Just as I always will. The XFiles is the
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