Title: "Left Behind" Author: Dantzi Jean E-mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.com Website: "My Voice in the World of Fanfiction" http://www.geocities.com/myxfvoice Rating: PG-13, adult content, death Category: short story, Scully Angst,MSR, Mulder death Feedback: Oh god, please people, I live on the stuff. Timeline: Six months after Mulder's death, no baby exsists...yet Spoliers: A small, timy mention of FTF Disclaimer: Everything mentioned pertaining to the X-Files and its characters does not belong to me and I am not profiting off its use. Archive: If you want it please ask for it. Thanks! Summary: For she too must face the fact that eventually we all are...left behind Author's Notes: Okay, people I know I swore never to write main stream fanfic but this is a monolouge I perform and it only occured to me last night to turn in into a fanfic, the monolouge is original although not based in real life. As to the death of Mulder, I know for a fact that it is not true and despite what we may see in future episodes he is dead in this world. Also in this fic Scully's child does not yet exsist and there is not mention of it here. Everyone Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Left Behind" She placed a heeled foot on the hard pavement and lifted herself from the vehicle. The familiar and heavy weight already pressing down on her small, frail shoulders. The mist in the air enveloped her and brushed her face as a lover's caress. Her heels gently rapped on the ground, the only sound of her coming. She opened the gate and walked to the morbidly familiar spot. Her heels sank into the ground as she walked; the damp, wet grass leaving stains on her black shoes. Her face was a mask; she was dead, cold, unfeeling, blank, barren, and lifeless. She carried nothing but the world. The heavy burden of her sadness making her weary, the darkness under her eyes and her slumped shoulders were the only testament to her grave load. She approached the well-known spot in the small cemetery where his headstone stood. A silent testament to the thriving life that it represented. Her arms crossed and her face grave she addressed the stone lying silent in the ground, "Six months...six months you've lain in that coffin, six months since your funeral, six months since your death." Her fists clenched at her sides at her thoughts. "Six, long, hard, painful, months." "I stand here knowing that somewhere underneath that pile of dirt, you lie. I know you're there. I couldn't stand here if it weren't true. Mulder..." She knelt to the ground where his headstone stood, silent and unmoving. "I see your headstone. Beautiful granite with your names and dates carved beautifully into them." Then, she stood as if the headstone were disgusting and repulsive. "And even a little passage that you now reside in peace. That you are now in a better place. Peace?! You are in peace? A better place..." "How is it that you can lie there in peace while I am in hell?! Oh yes, Mulder, hell. I am in hell. I see the mourning faces of the people we knew. I see the sorrow and pity in their faces, in their eyes. That, to me, is hell, Mulder. I face these people every day; I have to see this every day. And it tears me apart knowing that the look I witness is there because you are no longer by my side." A slow gentle tear flirted with her eye but she held it back, pride forcing a barrier around her heart. She stood back and took a breath, trying desperately to keep her fragile composure. "You took everything from me, you left me blind, deaf, lost. I can't find anything to fight for. You left me with no drive, no passion, and no direction. I cannot trust myself anymore. But not only did you take these things from me, Mulder. You too my heart from me, as well. And now here I stand, an empty shell of the woman you knew." Her voice sounded dejected but determined at the same time. She knew of her monumental burden and prepared herself to shoulder it alone. "Why must I go through this? Why did you have to sacrifice yourself? You should have sacrificed me to your quest; it was as much mine as it was yours. Did you know that? Or did you feel that you were alone? I never really knew. Why did you make me so devoted to you?" Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Why did you make me love you?" Silence greeted the woman standing at the grave. It haunted her; teased her. And made her fully aware of her pain. "You should have taken me with you. We were partners. That coffin should have been mine." Her voice was filled with reproach and disdain. The mist coated the woman's face and hands as she stood on the damp, cold ground. Her face was a mask of pain and longing. "Mulder, I was no meant to exist without you. I should not be here, I have no right. This was your quest and your life's work, and then you made it mine. You had no right to take that away from me, it was my life's work, my crusade. And now..." She paced not knowing exactly what to say. She was lost, completely lost. "I saw you walk away from me, Mulder. I saw you go to place I could not go. I would dare no go. You walked away from me, I saw you slowly moving further and further into that dark place. You didn't look behind you to see me, I was still there, lost...waiting...alone. And you left me. You left me behind! You left me to face life, a life I could no longer have without you. I knew that after Dallas, after your daring crusade to find me and bring me back. I could never leave your side. I never considered you might leave mine." With this, the tear that held the fragile balance on her eyelid escaped and in an angry gesture, she wiped it away with the heel of her palm. She was angry. Angry at herself, angry with him for doing this, for his damn quest. "I have one more question for you, Mulder. And maybe in some small way I already know the answer. Why is it, I still love you, after you left me behind?" At her words, she bent down the grave, her palms gently caressing the soft grass beneath her fingers, wet with dew and the shower of mist still falling. Her hands moved in slow and small circles as if touching the ground, which covered him, would leave her with some small measure of a response. She rose, quickly, as if afraid that if she remained too long she would not be able to leave. As she turned to exit the cemetery, she saw a dark figure in the mist. She moved toward it, knowing with certainty who and what the figure was. The tall man, who felt so responsible for the loss the small woman felt at the moment walked toward her, and up the grave. He placed his arm across her shoulders, giving her support. She let him lead her out of the small cemetery and then with slow, and heavy steps, she left him behind. *******THE END*****************