Title: The Letter Author: Em Laurence (lilxphile@aol.com) Rated: G Category: VA Spoilers: None Keywords: Character death Summary: Scully receives a letter from Samantha, sparking memories of a past she would like to forget. Awards: Nominated for 1996 Starbuck, Best Angst Piece THE LETTER by Em Laurence Lil XPhile@aol.com * * * * * * * * * * This is set fairly far into the future, probably ten years or so down the road. No third season spoilers, but I'll warn you- it gets a bit relationshippy. Oh, and you may want to keep a few tissues handy- it ain't no feel-good piece. Based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter and used without permission; no copyright infringement intended. The rest is my own. Anyone caught stealing my stuff will be immediately eaten by my cat, no questions asked. I love mail - send me some. Comments can be directed at the address above... but for those of you who are too lazy to scroll up, I'm at Lil XPhile@aol.com. Don't be stingy- send feedback. Dedicated to Lori and Caryn "The day's so long, no sun can measure; the field's so grand, I cannot sow; I'll just go find myself a lover, to help me walk this lonesome road." * * * * * * * * * * A letter had come for her today. Dana had not recognized the return address, nor had she found the handwriting familiar, but her name was printed in large letters on the front of the bulging envelope, and so she had opened it. Inside had been a single sheet of paper, neatly folded, another smaller, thick envelope, and a small heart shaped silver locket on a delicate chain. It was the locket that attracted her immediate attention, and she held it up to the light to examine the delicate carvings on the antique pendant- miniature swirling lines that came together in the center to form a tiny S. Her own initial; or at least her last initial. Curious now as to who had sent the gift, she picked up the note, fingering the locket with her free hand as she read the words printed simply on the paper... Dear Dana Scully, I'm sending this to you in the hopes that you will give it to my brother, whose address I could not obtain. The sealed envelope is for him. I can only hope that you are trustworthy, and will not open it. The silver locket is for you, to prove that I am who I say I am. Open it- the picture inside will be proof enough. Please make sure that he gets the letter, and tell him I will come to see him as soon as I can. Samantha Mulder The paper fell from her hands, forgotten, as she tried with shaking hands to open the silver locket. Time had stiffened the hinge, and the clasp had become difficult with age, but at last it gave way to reveal a blurred black and white photograph of a young boy. Despite the poor quality, there was absolutely no doubt in her mind who the boy was; she had seen the larger version of the photograph many times before. For years, it had stood in a silver frame on Fox Mulder's desk. There was no way for her to control her tears, they flew freely down her pale face as she prayed silently for the woman whose letter would never reach her brother. An eternity could come and go before Dana would be able to forget the day she had lost him. A kidnapper, a man suspected of killing seven children and holding another three hostage in his home, had been caught in an attempt to abduct yet another child, but had escaped to his home. The team sent to take the man into custody had included her and Mulder. They had become trapped at gun point in the basement, unable to escape without risking the lives of the three children still being held. Mulder had started to negotiate with the man when another agent, unaware of the fact that the kidnapper had a gun on Mulder, raced into the basement, surprising the kidnapper badly enough to cause him to pull the trigger. He had fallen into her arms, a crimson stain spreading rapidly across his shirt as he gasped for air. She had done everything she could to help him, knowing as she did that it was hopeless, that the wound was too severe. Still, she had kept her composure, refusing to let him know that she was afraid, and despite his clenched teeth and tortured face, he had done his best to remain calm. It would have done little good for them to see each other break down. "I'm going to die," he would whisper, his voice thin and barely audible, and always she would respond, in the gentlest voice she could manage, "Don't think that way. You are not going to die." She had not believed her own words, and knew that he too was aware of his impending death, but false optimism helped push back the flood of emotions that threatened to explode from within. Now, when it was too late, she realized the emptiness that would accompany life without him. All her hidden feelings for him, held captive in her heart for too long, revealed themselves, and for the first time she understood how much a part of her he was. This only served to make the final minutes more agonizing; with the passage of time came the pain of knowing that this was the end, and that she could do nothing. There came a point when she could do no more to help him, yet still she would not leave his side. His head in her lap, she held his hand and listened as he struggled to form his final words. "Never forget that I love you..." "I love you, too," she had whispered, before his eyes had closed upon the world forever. She remembered little from the funeral, nor did she want to remember. No good could come from remembering; pain and desolation had been her companions that day. One memory would haunt her always, the sight of his blank face, eyes closed, in the casket. The face had dominated her dreams many a night after the funeral, and resurfaced in nightmares that followed his birthday or the anniversary of the day of his death. Now, as she put the silver necklace round her neck, another memory surfaced. As she had stood by the casket and whispered a final prayer, she had unhooked the thin gold chain that held the cross, and laid the necklace into the casket by his side- a part of her that would remain with him forever, just as her memories of him would remain with her always. The letter Samantha had written remained sealed and safe; she tucked it behind one of the few photographs she had of him. It would be right to answer Samantha's letter, telling her of her brother's death, but Dana could not bring herself to touch the pen to the paper. If she wrote a letter, Samantha might write back, wanting to know about the brother she had barely known, asking questions Dana was not ready to answer. She did not want to befriend Samantha, to have a constant reminder of Mulder around her, causing her pain. She hated herself for what she was doing, for withholding such a painful truth from Samantha, who deserved to know. Somewhere, Samantha was waiting patiently for word from her brother, news that would never come. A cloud of guilt had formed around her, the punishment for her 'crime'. Still she chose to remain silent, to risk hurting Samantha to save her own heart from breaking again. It was selfish, and cruel, and she knew it, but it seemed the only way. She could take no more of the world that seemed to be crashing down upon her shoulders. With a heavy heart, she took one final glance at the photo in the locket before collapsing on the couch and crying herself to sleep. end comments? please? if you're not in the mood to scroll up, it's lil xphile@aol.com...