Title: Legend of the Split Aparts   
Author: Soleil Compeau
Keywords: Character Death
Rating: PG
Summary: What happens if one of them dies?
Disclaimer: These stunt doubles have just re-anacted what Mulder and
Scully do between episodes. The true characters belong to Chris Carter
and 1013 Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.
Authors Notes: The prologue to this might not make a whole lot of sense
unless you have a) read my other fic "all things lead to you" or b) you
are familiar with the legend of split-aparts. I had to write this. I
tried not to, but my sad muse whipped me with wet noodles and demanded
it! Onward and upward.....



Prologue

It is so right, the way we fit together. My head snuggles under his chin,
my feet rub against his calves. Every once in a while, his hands leave
their accustomed place at the small of my back to rub over me languidly.
It's impossible to tell where he ends and I begin. We are one. Tumbling
end over end through eternity, the angel's voices soothe and lull us.
Other joinings float in the amber nether around us. Occasionally one will
brush gently against us and send us careening along another vector.

Suddenly the angel's voices are silent, and a rumble shakes the space
around us. It grows worse until our limbs are shaking with the violence
of it. Suddenly he is ripped from me by unseen hands. The belly where we
are joined is torn open and I bleed out through that awful hole. I scream
soundlessly, "NO!" and struggle to reach him. His eyes are panicked, his
arms flail to get back to me. It's too late, he is gone. I am alone.

I am alone. The other joinings seem to shudder in sympathy and cling
together more tightly. I curl up around my wound pulling my legs up to my
chest and wrapping my arms around them. In despair, I drop my head onto
my knees and wait.....

-------------

Dana Scully jerked awake with a gasp. What a perfect way to begin such a
horrible day, she thought morosely. As she dressed in her typical black
clothes that today had such signifigance, she had to fight off waves of
panic and despair. I cannot do this, she thought. I just cannot do this.

Later that day she stood in a church, looking in a casket at Fox Mulder.
A sense of unreality washed over her. She thought of the saying that dead
people looked like they were sleeping. Mulder never looked like this when
he was was asleep, she thought remotely. He always looked so innocent, so
boyish. This man's face is a blank mask.

Behind her, she knew many of the FBI agents in the seats were closely
watching her reactions. They knew that she and Mulder had a more powerful
connection than most partnerships produce, even in 71/2 years. Would Mrs.
Spooky break down at the death of her strange partner?

Scully was sure they wondered at her lack of tears. She didn't care. Let
others cry and scream and wail. They had not loved Mulder the way she
had. They had not kissed him, had not held him in their arms. They would
not bear his child.

She stroked her abdomen lightly, thinking of the miracle child Mulder had
given her. It was the only thing keeping her anchored to this world. She
could only hope it looked like him. Scully had once believed that if one
of them ever died, the other would soon follow, whether they would or no.

She would have been glad to die along with Mulder. She could not imagine
her life or her future without him. Every time she tried, her throat
would begin to squeeze shut. Her heart would pause for an awful moment,
then begin pounding frantically. To avoid becoming hysterical, Scully
maintained a numb, almost frigid state of mind.

Now she sighed deeply, preparing herself for the inevitable. Reaching up
with both hands, she pulled the lid shut, watching as the shadow fell
slowly across his face. Tears flooded her eyes and pinched her nose, a
vise of sorrow tightened around her throat. Goodbye Mulder. No more will
the light shine on you. No truth for you, my seeking friend, my love. 

We are split apart.


End