TITLE: Here We Stand
AUTHOR: Spooky Jr.
EMAIL ADDRESS: CuteAndCudly@Yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere. Just keep my name and addy
attached.
SPOILER WARNING: SUZ. Before "Closure"
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V/A
SUMMARY: Fill in the blanks for SUZ. Takes place before
Closure aired. Scully's POV.
FEEDBACK: Is cherished! It'll only take a minute, please let
me know what you think.
SPECIAL THANKS: To my editor Melinda. You rock!
Without further ado...
"Here We Stand" by Spooky Jr.
I stand beside him now, my hand, small and comforting,
clutches his. We stand here together, alone. Side by side we
take up silent vigil of the newly dug grave.
The funeral ended for Tina Mulder almost a half an hour ago
and yet we still stand.
We are mere inches from each other, but our thoughts
couldn't be further away.
Even with the faith of my beliefs, and the abiding rule to
forgive those who trespass against us, I shall
never forgive Tina Mulder for the emotional scars she has
left upon Mulder. Scars that will forever dig into his soul.
I look at him and see the shell of a man that he once was,
so alive and vibrant. The light that once shined off him so
bright, now dulled into nothingness.
I gently squeeze his hand in silent plea to please leave. To
leave this grave that holds too much hurt. Too much despair
and lies. I wish I could drive Mulder away forever. Drive
him away from all this hurt and stop the emotional
rollercoaster that he is on.
When no recognition flashes across his face, I gently begin
to speak.
"Mulder?"
He turns his head and his eyes lock with mine and I almost
inaudibly gasp. There is so much hurt in those deep hazel
orbs that it's drowned out the spark that once resided
there.
At that point my heart shatters and I swear I could almost
hear the pieces as they crumbled.
"Let's go home Mulder," I say, turning and tugging lightly
on his hand upon which I still hold.
He nods, looking back once more at his mother's grave before
retreating and following me away from the site.
We make it to where the car is parked, ours being the only
one remaining.
All the other's who had attended, which weren't that many,
had long ago left. Went home and carried on with their
lives. All but us. Mulder's life will never be the same and
for that reason, neither will mine.
The ride to Mulder's apartment is an uneventful one. I
glance at every so often, but his position stays the same;
staring numbly out the window, unseeing to the world passing
by before him.
Even as we arrive at his residence, he is oblivious to
anything and everything. His body has become like an
automatic robot, putting one foot in front of the other
until we finally reach his door.
I watch silently as he tries relentlessly to insert the key
into the lock. The trembling of his hands making it almost
impossible and I watch as once again the key slips and
nearly falls from his grasp.
My hand glides over his, giving it a light squeeze. His
shaking hand calms instantly and I gently pull the keys from
him.
"It's ok," I tell him. God how much I wish it were.
I let us into the apartment and watch as he instantly heads
for the couch and flops down heavily. Laying back as if all
the strength had been stripped from him.
He leans forward resting his head in his hands. I stay back
a few moments to give him some time alone. Only when I hear
the slow shuddering sobs that emanate from him do I stride
over there.
His shoulders are quaking and the tears instantly well up in
my eyes. I blink quickly to hold them back, I cannot
breakdown. He needs me too much right now, I tell myself.
I kneel down in front of him, resting on my knees right in
front of his legs. My hands slowly glide up his arm, all the
way up to his hands which still hold his head.
I gently pry his hands away and lean up to kiss him tenderly
on the forehead.
He looks down at me, the same hurt still residing him his
eyes.
"Mulder, we'll get through this." I tell him softly. Those
words sound so weak to my ears. So shallow and I realize
that no words can just wipe away the pain.
He shakes his head slightly and I expected him to repeat the
all to familiar words, 'she was trying to tell me
something.' Instead he doesn't and says something that was
very unexpected.
"I can't take this anymore."
Oh Mulder, I think, but only when he sighs and looks at me
do I realize I have spoken aloud.
"I can't Scully. I just can't." And with those words the
tears from his eyes begin to cascade down his cheeks.
Almost automatically, I reach up and brush away the fallen
tears and pull him to me. I wrap my arms protectively around
his shaking form and hold him tight.
This position feels all too familiar as the flash of the
night before pops into my mind; me holding him as he cries
on my shoulder.
"Mulder," I whisper, my voice slightly distorted by the
collar of his shirt. No response from him except more
muffled sobs.
I give up for the moment and opt for rubbing his back in
slow circles, trying to give him some comfort. Some
semblance of something to hold on to. His nerves are like
thin shreds right now and at the moment I am grasping at
them, grasping at something, anything to keep him from going
over the edge. To keep him from falling into the dark abyss
of despair and hopelessness.
We sit, as time turns fluid and I no longer care to keep
track of it. We sit silently as it passes us by mere minute
by mere minute. I sit rocking him gently, our positions
never changing.
"Mulder, look at me."
I say it gently, I need to break the silence that has passed
between us.
He looks at me, his eyes almost pleading. Pleading to answer
all the questions stirring in his mind. Why'd she do it. Why
couldn't she just tell him. His guilt forming heavily on his
already hurting heart.
I change positions and sit down on the couch beside him,
sliding my right arm behind his back and rest my head
lightly on his shoulder.
I close my eyes for a few brief moments and I notice I am
unconciously rubbing his arm. I stop and lift my head off
his shoulder, taking a good look at him.
He looks so weak right now, fragile and worn out.
"Mulder, why don't you go lay down?" I suggest.
He shakes his head no, "I can't sleep Scully."
His voice cracks on my name and the tears in my eyes that I
thought I had gotten rid of are back.
"Please try Mulder. For me, please try. Why don't you at
least just lie back on the couch. You don't have to go to
sleep, just lay down and relax."
He nods slowly and I stand up in order to give him room to
lie down. He stretches out on his back, the length of his
frame taking up the whole length of the couch.
I softly sit down beside him on the couch, running my
fingers through his hair. His eyes look up and lock with
mine once again. I can see the sleep in his eyes and I can
see his struggle to stay awake even against his feeble
protests.
"Sleep Mulder," I whisper, running my thumb lightly over his
forehead. His eyes close slowly, his eye lashes flutter as
he relents and falls into slumber. He breathing almost
instantly evens out and his breaths become slow and steady.
I lean down and give him a tender kiss on his forehead,
whispering "sweet dreams," into his ear.
The End.
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