Author: Alice J. Foster (a.k.a. shipperfey)
Fandom: The X-Files
Summary: Life isn't easy, but sometimes you just have to be thankful for the small things.
Spoilers: The Truth
Category: Angst, Romance, Vignette.
Pairing/Characters: MSR, Scully POV.
Timeline: Set about three years after The Truth.
A/N: I haven't written any XF fanfics in at least 4 years, so I'm a little rusty. I just needed to get my mind off RL, and this came out… nothing to write home about, definitely not my best writing, but it's short, angsty and with a hopeful ending :)
They leave another nameless hotel, in another nameless town and she doesn't even remember what day of the week it is.
New car, new names, new haircolor - all courtesy of John and Monica, all long overdue.
If Scully never stays at another hotel her whole life, then there is a small chance she could die happy. But for now they should be able to maintain these new identities for at least a few months, in a house with a kitchen and hopefully a bathtub she can bathe in for hours.
The sun is setting when his hand reaches for hers across the middle console of the car.
She wonders how he can wake up every day with a smile on his face, ready to fight for the truth he cherishes so much; the one time she had the guts to ask him, he said he smiles every morning because she is still with him.
Maybe she could smile every morning, but too much of her is missing: the part of her that was made up of William, Emily, Melissa, her father—all gone forever. The day William celebrated his fourth birthday, she let Mulder hold her while she cried for hours, and his tears soon mingled with hers.
They keep driving, keep fighting, keep moving - because it's too dangerous to stop. But they have each other, and most days that's enough.
Their hands are still joined, so she pulls them up, touching her lips to the back of his hand. He glances at her from the corner of her eyes and she smiles one of her all too rare smiles as she imagines their new home.
Over the years, she has had a lot of regrets, but he'll never be one of them. Her mouth whispers against their joined hands the three words she almost never says.
He says it back without missing a beat, just before they reach their new house – their new life.
Their son is alive somewhere, safe. Soon she'll allow herself to cry again, but not today.
She has more reasons to be happy today than usual, and she intends to celebrate it.