Title: Into the Night
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and the X-files belongs to Chris Carter and 1013
Summary: Scully's thoughts during that 'rough night'.
Author's notes: Spoilers for that episode where Mulder's Mom died (obviously). I don't
know the name of it. Anyway, I just finished watching it when I was wondering what
Scully was thinking during that 'rough night'. This is what I came up with. Enjoy!
Into the Night
It's all I can do to keep my tears from falling as I hold my partner in my arms. I
can feel the sobs racking his body as he clings to me, as if his entire existence depends on
Well, maybe it does, now. Mulder's father has been dead for five years now, and
his sister has been gone since he was a just a boy. Now, with his mother gone, I, and the
X-files, are all he has left.
Mulder's tearful cries reverberate throughout my very soul, breaking my heart all
over again. As I hold him and give him my shoulder to cry on, I can feel the tracks of my
own tears slipping silently down my face. I feel his pain as deeply as if it were my very
It was hard telling him the news, earlier. I saw the complete devastation on his
face when he learned of his mother's fate. When he asked me to do the autopsy of her
body, I agreed. Mulder needed closure. At least I could give him that much.
And then, only a few long moments before, I once again had to steal away his
hope; shatter his heart. He was looking so hard for an explanation as to why his mother
died. I knew he wouldn't want to hear the truth, but he deserved no less. I sat and
watched as I robbed him of his last chance at a peace of mind, and I hated myself for it.
My partner, my best friend, deserved so much more than being told his mother committed
suicide to save him, and herself, unnecessary pain.
As Mulder continues to pour his heart out onto my shoulder, I find myself
growing angry. Damn her anyway! How could she take the easy way out? How dare
she leave behind her only family in such a cowardly way? She may have wanted to spare
Mulder undue pain, but her committing suicide caused just as much heartache. If only
she had waited a little longer, then Mulder wouldn't be feeling quite so damn guilty about
never being able to fix things between him and his mother.
I sigh and hold Mulder even tighter. I have no right to be angry. Committing
suicide may be a sin where my beliefs are concerned, but that doesn't mean I can
condemn the mother of my best friend for doing the only thing she felt she could. There
was no use dwelling on what could have and what should have happened. All that
mattered was that I was here for Mulder, in whatever way I could help.
Mulder cries himself out after an hour and weakly remains in my arms, spent. I
hold him until I was sure my back would break under his weight, and gently push him
back. What I see makes my heart leap into my throat.
Mulder's hazel eyes are filled with more sadness and despair than I have ever
seen in anyone's face, including my mother's when Melissa died. Of course, my mother
had three other kids to fall back on for support. Mulder has only me.
His cheeks are flushed and stained with drying tears. His lower lip trembles, as if
he wants to cry some more but can't find the energy to do so. His chin is resting on his
chest, unable to lift up and meet my gaze. I gently caress his cheek and offer him a sad
"Let's get you comfortable in your bed," I suggest, hoping for one of his lewd
comments. I am disappointed when he simply nods and allows me to help him up and
into his bedroom.
I suggest he changes his clothes, but he ignores me and goes straight to his bed. I
pull the bedclothes over his slightly shivering body and tuck him in tenderly. My actions
bring more tears to the surface and he begins to cry at the injustice of it all once more.
Wanting to comfort him, I lay on the bed beside him and gather him up into my arms.
Once there, Mulder releases even more grief and pain from the depths of his being. My
tears are more silent, but they fall just the same.
We remain like this for hours. I have lost all track of the time, so focused am I on
the grieving man lying in my arms. I never once let him go; I could no more release him
than I could cut off my own right arm. Mulder needs my support; he needs to know that I
am here for him in this dark time.
He's sleeping lightly now. He is having fewer and fewer crying jags and more
and more periods of sleep. I think I may have drifted off myself once or twice, but I can't
be sure. I am grateful for Mulder's slumber. The hard part for him is almost over. I
know he'll still feel pain, but at least he knows that he can come to me with it. I wouldn't
have it any other way.
Fresh rays of sunlight peek through the windows in the dark room, signifying the
dawn of a new day. I pull Mulder close to me and close my eyes. Maybe I can get a little
bit more sleep in before Mulder wakes up again.
Knocking on Mulder's door rouses me from my state of half-sleep. Then again,
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