Title: Falling to Pieces
Author: Gillian Taylor
Email: usstrustno1@hotmail.com
Website: http://horizonfiles.hispeed.com/X_Files/xtreme.htm
Rating: PG
Category: V, R, A, kind of AU
Spoilers: Requiem, This is Not Happening, DeadAlive (sort of)
Keywords: MSR, Scully Angst
Summary: This is the subject of her fragmented soul,
science and fiction and truth so intermingled.

Archive: Gossamer, Ephemeral, anywhere. Just drop me a
line so I can visit and get a cheap thrill out of
having my story up somewhere where it can be appreciated.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I can lay no claim to the characters
from the X-Files. If I could, I would die a happy woman.
Mulder, Scully, Byers, and Skinner belong to Ten Thirteen
Productions and I'm only borrowing them for my own
perverse enjoyment.

Author's notes: Thanks, as usual, go to my beta, Crysta.
This story is a sequel to the stories Remnants and
Where Have all the Happily Ever Afters Gone?

"Falling to Pieces"
by Gillian Taylor

One streak of the brush, and a glimmer of gold appears,
paranormal in its beauty on a piece of parchment of pure
white. Another pass, and red appears, rampant in the
color of blood that has covered her hands far too many
times. Once again, and purple appears, the color of
royalty and purpose, but no purpose resides behind her
cornflower eyes. Again, and blue rolls across the canvas,
the blue of eternity, the eternity that she has lost for
all time.

The happily ever after that she had wished for and longed
for with every breath in her being had disappeared like
the white dissipated with each stroke of her brush. This
time was supposed to be happy, a time of renewed love and
celebration between herself and the man that lurked in her
dreams. But that dream had been shattered like so many
pieces of glass. Her soul lay shattered on the floor, and
yet she could summon little desire to glue each piece
together again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
And all the King's Horses and
all the King's men
couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.

Another brush stroke and the sun appeared, a falsely smiling
face that spoke of childhood and joy despite the horror and
sorrow that lurked beneath. Oh, how she wanted to erase that
vile smile. It suggested that happiness lurked around the
corner but she had no desire to be happy again. Then she
felt her son squirm within her belly and she relented with
the rush of love that the sensation induced. She might be
happy again, in time, but for now she was alone with the

Fragmented colors appeared before her in a chaotic display
of sunset and moonrise. This was to be her son's room, a
room where the intermesh of light and darkness, of night
and day, can play before his youthful eyes. In this, she
had found a measure of release. The influences of her
strict science and his unrelenting belief appeared in every
brush stroke. There a whimsical alien waves a chubby green
hand, there the constellation of the Big Dipper rests poised
to pour whatever it contains upon the slumbering earth below,
and there the sun smiles forth in its golden beauty. This is
the subject of her fragmented soul, science and fiction and
truth so intermingled.

Dana Scully sat on a wall.
And Dana Scully had a great fall.
And all the FBI's horses
And all the FBI's men
Couldn't put Dana Scully together again.

The brush lay forgotten within the paint bucket as sob
after wracking sob left her body. She was broken, but
there was no tender touch to bring her back together.
That gentle hand now lay six feet under ground, never
to be seen or felt again.

The shrill ring of the telephone strove to interrupt her
moment of pain, and she allowed it to, listening absently
as her machine picked up the phone.

"Hi, you've reached Dana Scully. I'm not at home right now,
so if you will please leave your name, your number, and a
brief message I'll get back to you as soon as I can." Her
too young voice was chipper, for it never bore the weight that
she did now. She should have changed the message, for it no
longer described who she was. She was broken.

"Agent Scully...Dana, it's Skinner. What we found five months
ago was a lie. He's here, Dana, and he..."

She was up in an instant, and the paint can spilled onto the
floor in her too hasty plunge to reach the phone, "Sir, I'm

"Thank God," the man's usual gruff voice was choked with
emotion and shared pain, "Byers will be by to pick you up in
ten minutes. Pack some extra clothes."

"Sir? Are you sure?" She never dared to hope anymore, for
hope was the quickest path to travel to pain.


That one word echoed through her once deluded mind, bouncing
with a joyfulness that she had no right to feel, not yet.
"Is he ok?"

"He will be."

"I'll see you soon, sir," Scully murmured.

"We both will."

With the click of the phone, her world returned to its
previous silence, but it was a silence filled with the purpose
that she had once lost. There, each piece of her shattered soul
was gathered together in hopeful hands to give to the one man
that could put her together again.

Georgetown Memorial

A flash of red, purple, gold, and blue passed before her gaze
as she wove her way among the nurses, aides, and doctors that
crowded the ICU unit of Georgetown Memorial. Byers walked,
unheeded, by her side for her gaze was riveted on the tall form
of her superior.

"Sir," she said in a quivering voice as soon as she reached his
side. Part of her hated the perceived indignity of hormones, but
the major part of her was unable to give a damn.

"Scully." It was not Skinner's voice that responded, instead it
was a too familiar, and much longed for, rasp of her name from the
bed behind the Assistant Director.

Her breath hitched in her throat as Skinner moved aside to show
her the one person that could ever hope to save her fragmented
soul. His too dear face was bruised and battered, but it mattered
not to the woman who stood in shock before him. "God...Mul..."
And she was in motion, and in his arms in an instant.
"Mulder...you're alive..."

"Last time I checked..." his voice whispered through her
hair. "Something you want to tell me?"

"I...God...I missed you, love..." Each word was torn from her
throat on the wings of every sob. His hands, his wonderful
hands, soothed her as he murmured sweet nothings into her hair.
And for one complete moment, she found her happily ever
after...just as she knew that her happily ever after would
last for all time.

Dana Scully sat on a wall
Dana Scully had a great fall
and only Fox Mulder of all
the FBI's men
was able to put Dana Scully together again.


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