Author's Note: This is a sequel to a previous fic I wrote entitled Home Sweet Home. (Available in finer author profiles everywhere!) While I did my best to make sure you did not have to read HSH, it probably would enhance your enjoyment of this story if you did. Also, there are some fairly intense scenes and themes in this story, so while I felt that it was not enough to push it past PG-13, it is certainly pretty close to R with its dialouge and violence towards minors. While I did not feel it was R, you may, and you should be advised to take whatever precaustions when reading. Also, please ignore that I created a one year gap between "Hollywood AD" and "Requiem". That was an accident and hardly the worst thing I've ever done.

Randall and Son's Funeral Home
Washington D.C.
1988

The room was bright, washed in white light and outlined in flowers. In the back of the room, face sullen and pale, I stood as a man whose heart more than carried its share of darkness. I was still a kid to the FBI back then, green, but I could run with the best of them, or at least that's what I thought.

At times the room faded away, and all that I could see was the horrible image that burned itself in my mind the moment her last breath fell onto my arm. I was lost in myself and was startled when a hand gently rested itself on my shoulder. I lifted my face in the hand's direction, meeting the eyes of a man I worked the case with.

"Look, kid," the man said, his voice straining to sound comforting. It was obvious he had seen worse and it hardened him over time. "You tried your best. These things happen, and there was nothing more you could have done. Try not to take this too personal, okay, Mulder?"

"Yeah, sure thing, sir," I replied distantly. His words went no deeper than my ears. The man walked off, but not before slapping me on the back.

I glanced hesitantly around, noting the small sign that read, "Funeral Visitation: Angela Shaffer", the people, and the coffin. Just looking at the coffin made my heart stop, and my body go cold. I had been able to keep the full brunt of what had happened hidden from my emotions, but now the veil was lifted. Slowly, as if pulled by some unseen string, I began my movement past the friends, family, and loved ones. I did not pause in my slow, steady journey to the coffin, not even to speak to the hysterical mother the girl had left behind.

The coffin was closed, but I could almost see the horrible mess that had been made of the once beautiful little girl. A lump formed in my throat that threatened to suffocate me.

"Angela," I said slowly. The voice did not sound like mine, like it was coming from someone else, and I was on the other side of the room listening in. "Angela. I'm so sorry. If I had acted sooner- better- you would still be alive. If it weren't for me… I-I'm sorry; it's all my fault that I can't even avenge your death. Please…please forgive me…."

Sometimes, even after all these years, it feels like I'm still standing in front of that coffin.

The X-Files
When Angels Cry
Never Give Up Hope

FBI Headquarters
X-Files Division
Present Day

"Well, that did not go over too well did it, Mulder?" Scully remarked, biting her lip slightly as they stepped out of the elevator.

"Oh come on. We've had worse. Remember how Skinner reacted when we cut up that guy we assumed was Micah Hoffman?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," she said as they rounded a corner and started down the hall. "Still, Mulder, I don't think I have ever seen the vein in his forehead stick out that far."

"I have," Mulder replied slyly, "lots of times."

"Well," Scully said, as he held the door to their office open, "some of us are not accustomed to our superiors jumping down our throats."

"You've been my partner for how many years now and you're still not use to superiors jumping down our throats? I must be slacking off somewhere…." he commented on his way to slumping down in his chair.

She slumped down in hers as well. As she sighed, she pushed the air upwards, causing a strand of hair to jump even further out of place while she looked around the office. It was tiny, which as understandable. The Bureau did not put much time, effort, or money into the X-Files division, unless it was to shut it down. Sometimes Scully laughed at the thought of what the look on the higher-ups' faces must have been when they had heard their most promising agent Fox Mulder had gave up the fast ride to the top to chase little green men in the furthest reaches of Cooterville.

"I'm having one of those days, Mulder," Scully said, letting her eyes fall on him. He already had a collection of sunflower seed shells on the desk. "First, I only got a few hours of sleep last night after my field report, then the shower was broken, and do not get me started on the little brat that nearly ran me over on his skateboard."

"Well, somebody needs a nap," Mulder said, smirking. Scully shot him a glance that could have cut through to the next room. "Come on, Scully," Mulder said, leaning on the desk, "surely there was something good about today. Tell me you saw the look on Skinner's face when he read the rental car price and that you did not laugh."

"Well, it was the first time I've heard a fifteen word sentence that used only four words," she said, smiling a little. He should not have gotten so mad over that. Was it really their fault that the rental place's last vehicle was a brand new VW Beetle? "Actually, Mulder, there was something I was looking forward to showing you."

He lifted an eyebrow slightly.

"No, not that," she replied to the glance.

"Oh, fiddle-sticks," his deadpan humor replied.

She smiled at her best friend. "I received a letter from David yesterday."

David. What could she say about David? He was a wonderful young boy from Bloomfield, Kansas they had investigated a year earlier about the deaths of his parents and sister. They had gone undercover as foster parents, and they ended up falling in love with the child. It had been so hard to leave him when the case was over. Periodically they exchanged letters and he was also in the X-Files with his rather unique ability for telekinesis, and potential pyrokinetics.

"David?" Mulder asked, perking up a little. "How is he doing? Does he have a new girlfriend?"

"Let's see, it's the first of the month…. He really became the little heartthrob, didn't he?"

"I think he's going to have to give me lessons."

Scully laughed. "I haven't read it yet. I thought we should read it together, like we usually do."

"So…" Mulder gave a little faux paranoid glance around the room. "Why are we not?"

"I left it at my apartment…and…before you even say something along the lines of me enticing you, it was because I was raging at the shower."

He did not have to say a word in order to make her blush at hers.

* * *