Title- Only By Passing
Author- 2Shy X-01001
E-mail address- wausa@flash.net
Rating- PG, because it's extremely depressing
Category- VA
Spoilers- References to episodes, nothing major though
Keywords- Character death, Scully POV 
Summary- Someone attempts to deal with their feelings.
Original Post Date- June 13th, 1999

Archive- Xemplary and Ephemeral can archive.  I'll submit it to 
Gossamer on my own, but any other potential archivists, please email 
me for permission.  You can be almost 100% sure that I'll give you 
the go ahead. 

Disclaimer- Disclaimer- I don't own The X-Files or any of its 
characters.  In fact, I own next to nothing.  So, if anybody reading
this is charitable, please send donations of food and money to:
Poor Boy
Cardboard Box #7365
New York, New York 12345

Feedback is greatly appreciated.  I pin all the feedback I get on 
the wall in my box, right next to my picture of the shot from the 
Grassy Knoll.

Thank you to all of my beta-readers.  You are the greatest bunch that
I could have ever been blessed with.  This vignette has benefited 
greatly from the help that you all have provided me.
Thank you to anyone else who read this for me and told me what their
honest impressions were.  Thank you to those of you who have helped 
me through this tough time in my life with your words of 
encouragement.  You'll never know how much it means to me.
And thank you most of all to my mother.  It is you who inspired me 
all through my life, and who I always looked up to.  You instilled 
a great work ethic in me, and I know that none of my fanfiction
visions
would ever come to life were it not for you.  
--2Shy X-01001

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I watched "Talitha Cumi"/"Herrenvolk" and "The Field 
Where I Died" so that I could get into the mind of Angsty!Mulder for 
Part Four of "Choices and Repercussions", and then I realized that 
Part Four of "C&R" has Angry!Mulder.  Whoops! <g>
So, I listened to "The Freshman" by The Verve Pipe four times and 
then played the "Titanic" soundtrack to stay in an angsty mood, and 
suddenly I had this self-proclaimed moment of brilliance.  I hope 
you enjoy the results.   
This fic is dedicated to my mother, who I have an extremely close 
relationship with.  This was written when I found out that she might 
have cancer.  Luckily, days later we learned that her tumor was 
benign.  Had I not had this short yet frightening experience, our 
already solid bond would not have been strengthened more, and this 
fic would not have been as emotional.  Even though I now know she 
will not have to suffer through this disease, this vignette is still 
in honor of her, and all she has done for me.

"ONLY BY PASSING"
        
Freedom.  

How does it feel to finally be free?  After all the years of 
searching, it has all come to an end.  Is this how you wanted it?

The ocean breeze feels empty and cold against my skin.  Strands of 
my hair blow across my forehead as I peer out into the foggy bay.  
Slowly, a burning tear rolls down my ghostly pale face.  My eyes have
been moist for some time, but only the fresh streak of pain on my 
cheek has made me aware of the saddening fact.  My tears are much 
more bitter and painful than the water of the ocean before me, 
because they were born of suffering, a suffering deep inside of me.
As each one trickles out of my eye, a memory of you is recalled, and 
another part of my soul cries out in agony.

I hesitantly pull a wallet-sized photo of you out of my trenchcoat 
pocket.  Your usually infectious smile beams up at me, but this time 
it doesn't bring me happiness.  The scene begins to replay again, 
torturing me.

We were walking together, the sun brightly shining onto us.  Troubles
and worries seemed miles away.  You wanted me to accompany you as you
met another clandestine source, someone who made the same false 
promises as all of the others.

I thought I saw your body jerk before I even heard the shot, but 
maybe it was just a premonition, a sense of foreboding that I wish I 
had noticed sooner.  You crumpled to the ground, your innocent blood 
pouring out upon the bricks.  You shed your blood for the coveted 
Truth, but still my heart pangs.  It bleeds for you, yearns for you.

The investigators canvassed the area, but the sniper was nowhere to 
be found.  He was a real pro, leaving behind no evidence except for 
the bullet that cut you down.  You were only in the springtime of 
your life, but that killer stopped short your beautiful bloom with 
one little pull, one twitch of a muscle on a cold metal trigger.

Slowly, the images fade away, the bloodstained ground disappearing 
somewhere into the recesses of my mind.  Your smile greets me again, 
and for one fleeting instant I am happy, reminded that you are 
smiling down on me from above.  I tenderly brush my thumb over your 
face, stroking the picture, trying to wipe away the misery, as if 
consoling you will help to see me through.  How long will the pain 
last, Mulder?  Will it go on until I put a bullet into the person 
responsible?  Will it just slowly fade away with time?  Or will it be
with me always, an unwanted souvenir from tougher times? 

Watching your eyes cloud over as death approached, I felt a 
pain as if the bullet lodged in your chest had in fact pierced my 
skin.  For all the times you'd saved me, I couldn't return the 
favor.  My science, my medical training- it should have been able to
help you, to allow you to continue your quest.  The beliefs that 
have kept me sane and grounded failed me that day in front of the 
Lincoln Memorial, and I berate myself daily because of it.  The 
science and medicine are what let us down, but to me it feels more 
like a personal failure.  I should have done something.  I know I 
could have.  I owed you at least that much.

You've pined for your sister endlessly.  Are you with her now?
God, Mulder, I hope you are.  If we've come so far, only to find 
nothing of the truth, and for your sister to still be missing, was 
it worth it?  Martyring yourself for the sake of The Truth?  Krycek 
once told us that there is no truth, that these men who oppress us 
make it up as they go along.  Maybe now I believe him.  I'm more 
susceptible than ever.  I need you, but it's losing you that has 
made me so vulnerable.

If I quit now, do they win?  I know how many times my goddamned 
strict rationalism and science have saved you, but sometimes I just 
needed you to hold me.  I've acted strong many, many times, but you 
are my rock- in this life and the next.  My rock is gone.  I feel 
that I am tumbling into the void, into oblivion, but I don't reach 
for my science to save me.  It is my religious convictions that I 
hold fast to as I dangle precariously above the abyss of suffering.
The small gold cross that I wear around my neck had tied us together
many times, keeping us connected through the worst that life threw 
at us.  Now it serves as a reminder that I will see you again, 
someday. 

Despite this, I need your guidance and your unending belief.  If 
only I had the drive you did, Mulder, maybe then I could continue 
this quest alone.

Have you finally achieved what you had striven for all these 
years?  Are you finally at the goal, the summit?  Was this the only 
way to expose these men?  Maybe you finally have won, Mulder, but 
only by passing.

Yet there are times I forget that anything has changed.  Your 
apartment is still the same- fish tank, computer, couch, and the 
sticky remnants of an ancient masking tape X on the window- save 
for one detail.  You're not there.  The basement office still only 
has its one desk, with the Fox Mulder nameplate still gracing the 
piece of furniture that is as littered with files as the walls are 
with posters, photos, and newspaper clippings.  The chair remains 
empty, and some days I check my watch impatiently, waiting for you to
come waltzing through the door with a big grin, a new case, and a 
pair of plane tickets.  But then I remember the truth- my truth.  I 
realize that you aren't coming back, that I don't have anything to 
look forward to in my workday anymore.

Sometimes I get mad at you.  I admit, I feel guilty and downright 
disgusted that I harbor this misguided emotion.  It just feels like 
I've been abandoned.  I was walking down a dangerous path with a man
I trusted and even loved, when suddenly I found myself walking alone.
There's no turning back on this road, but I don't have the will or 
the desire to go any further.  Should I stop here, and let myself 
wither away?  It's all been taken from me- my father, my sister, my 
daughter, and now you.  Should I give up and let them win?  Or has 
the decision already been made for me?
        
Now my neatly typed resignation letter sits on Skinner's desk.  I 
know that once he finds it, he won't let me leave.  He'll try to 
talk me out of it, but this is what I must do.  Maybe I was always
destined to be a doctor, and it just took you to show me that.  
You've made a huge impact on my life, and you made the important 
decision for me, but only by passing.

I continue to stare out at the bay.  It is a blank stare that I give
the cold, dark water.  Is this finally a release? Am I finally free?
I slip the picture back into my pocket without glancing back down at
your loving face. 
        
I hold the golden urn as tenderly as I held your dying body.  
Hesitantly, I lift the lid.  This is what you wanted, but did you 
want it to happen so soon?  The pain is too much for me, and I turn 
around to face your summer home and the small crowd of people 
gathered here to honor your memory.  

Your mother steps forward and comforts me.  Despite her tears and 
the pain I can see in the depths of her strangely calm, blue eyes,
she wipes the moisture off of my face.  Somehow, her strength in 
the face of this adversity gives me the power to turn around and 
face the bay again.
        
I tilt the urn, with my arm extended over the rocky cliff, the sweet
strains of "Amazing Grace" filling my ears.  I know that you 
requested a small, unsentimental ceremony, but you had filled my life
with beautiful music for so long.  I felt it only fair to return the
favor by having my favorite church hymn played in remembrance of you. 

I flick my wrist, and the urn's contents flutter into the air.  The 
heartless ocean winds carry the ashes out to sea, carry you out to 
sea, as a violin sorrowfully carries the melody to a climactic high,
tearing my heart in two.

The pain overwhelms me yet again, and I close my eyes tightly.  
You've hurt me before, and I've experienced loss, but nothing 
compares to the heart-wrenching turmoil I am now suffering.  We have 
come far together, but now our journey has reached its unsatisfying 
end.  I want to be able to put you to rest, put my memories to rest.
I want so desperately to be able to move on and never look back, to 
leave the pain and torment behind.  Instead, I stand in the middle of
that dangerous path, alone and scared, knowing I will never go 
forward again.  Mulder, I feel the gaping hole you've left inside me,
and I'd gladly give up all of our memories, just to erase the loss 
you have caused, by passing.    

-------------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, I know that's pretty depressing, but what did you think?  
Send your praise, death threats, etc. to: 
wausa@flash.net  
-------------------------------------------------------------------