Subject: New "Sixty" SR, Angst++++, MSR
From: Dawson  Rambo <drambo@azstarnet.com>
Date: Tue, 22 Jul 1997 05:10:39 -0700




                                    "Sixty"
			       By Dawson E. Rambo

Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any
other tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris 
Carter remain his copyrighted property, the property of 1013 
Productions, and the property of Fox Television, a unit of
20th Century Fox, Inc. No infringement of any copyright is
intended. Characters created by the author remain his property.

Original Post  :  July 20, 1997
Archive Entry  :  "Sixty"
Classification :  SRA+
Rating         :  PG-13 (Adult themes)
Archive        :  Any public accessible server.
Missing Parts  :  http://www.azstarnet.com/~drambo
Feedback       :  All feedback (good or bad) to: drambo@azstarnet.com
Mailing List   :  Email to drambo@azstarnet.com with subject SUBSCRIBE.
Notes          :  None
Casting        :  Wallace Shawn, "Dr. Myers."
Timeline       :  Indeterminate, but assume that the season ender
                  didn't actually "happen."
Summary        : Mulder at Scully's deathbead. 

Note : This story was originally intended to cover the last 
sixty seconds of Scully's life. That much is still going to 
occur, but I decided that a bit of backstory and what 
filmmakers call "coverage" was needed in order for this to 
make any sense.

WARNING: >>>SEVERE<<< Angst ahead. Character dies.

-1-
Johns Hopkins Medical Center

	Tired, he thought. So damn tired. Mulder could barely 
lift his head from the bed. When he did, his gaze caught 
hers, and she smiled as warmly as she was able. The face that 
stared back at him didn't resemble the face he had come to 
know over the last almost-five years much at all. Her eyes 
were sunken, her skin sallow and parched-looking. The 
sickness, combined with the aggressive radiation and 
chemotherapy had caused her gums to recede, loosening some 
of her teeth. Her lips were dry and cracked. 
	Only her eyes remained. Those azure, ice-chip-blue 
eyes stared back at him from her cancer-ravaged face. For 
the past four days, they had been the only means with which 
to communicate with her; the tumor had long since pushed 
through the bone protecting her brain and had attacked her 
speech centers. At first nothing more than a combination of 
a stutter and a slur, before long she had found it difficult 
to form words, and then the gift of speech had left her 
abruptly in the middle of a word, the middle of a thought, 
and, typically enough, in the middle of an argument with 
him.
	In the middle of his preparations for the crushing 
grief he knew would soon be upon him, Mulder had never 
stopped to think that there might be a time when she would 
be with him, technically alive, but that he would be unable 
to hear her voice.
	And so the last four days had been harder than the 
months that had preceded it. Skinner, for all his countless, 
dwelled-upon faults, had somehow known, had somehow 
understood, and had granted Mulder what amounted to an 
endless paid leave of absence. Mulder had been chagrined to 
find out that Skinner had filed it under the same 
classification of leave that a husband received for a dying 
wife.
	Dying.
	The word still tasted so strange in his mouth. Even 
with the evidence before him, directly before him, Mulder 
found it close to impossible to accept that Scully was 
dying, that her life was coming to an end.
	An end.
	The word was so final, so ultimate. No do-overs, as 
Sam would have said. Samantha. He smiled at Scully, the need 
for talking to her long since gone. He would have liked for 
them to have met. Not for the reason that Scully would have 
suspected, the ultimate in I-told-you-so one-upmanship, but 
for the simple human need to have one of the most important 
women in life meet the other most important woman in his 
life. Although, at this moment in time, Mulder would have 
been hard-pressed to declare which was the most important. 
Mulder had a sneaking suspicion that if the chain-smoking 
bastard himself had arrived in the last day or two with a 
videotape of Samantha reading that day's paper, with the 
promise of reuniting them if Mulder were only to leave 
Scully's side, he would have just shot the bastard right 
between the eyes and continued the vigil.
	He glanced at his watch. How long had he been by her 
side? Counting backwards, he realized that he hadn't left 
Scully in almost eighteen hours. Time seemed to both drag 
and fly at once. Drag, in the sense that part of Mulder, the 
selfish, immature part of him, wished that this was over, 
that the ordeal would end so that grief could begin, so that 
he could move on to whatever it was that came next, and that 
Scully could do the same, that she could move on to whatever 
came next for her. Reuniting with Ahab, with Melissa, 
finding the inner peace that eluded her for so much of her 
life. So that her ravaged body could rest for all eternity; 
no more needles, treatments, chemicals. No more fighting an 
invader that defied defeat, a silent, invisible killer that 
had been an uninvited guest in her body.	
	So, Mulder knew, he could get on with the guilt.
	It was there, looming in the background, waiting to 
pounce the moment the little green squiggle lines on the 
cardiac monitor slowly collapsed and went flat. The moment 
the steady rise and fall of Scully's chest stilled for all 
time. That's when that particular monster would leap from 
the shadows and consume him whole. 
	She stirred on the bed and made a motion with her 
hand. Her forefinger and middle finger pressing against her 
thumb. Pen, her hand asked. Give me something to write with. 
	He handed her a pen and held a small pad under her 
hand.
	She scribbled a word, five characters, the letters 
jagged with exhaustion and infirmity.
	Story, it said.
	Tell me a story, she'd asked.
	He looked into her eyes and thought that his heart 
would stop. She smiled at him, a soft, warm smile that he 
knew she had always reserved just for him. Oh, she smiled at 
other people. Rarely, but she did. But his smile, the Mulder 
smile, was such a rare, electric occurrence that he found 
himself looking forward to them, treasuring them as they 
happened and thinking back on them after they'd gone. 
	"A story, huh?" he asked. Slowly, painfully, she 
nodded. Mulder felt his stomach muscles tightening into a 
knot. The pain was increasing, they told him. The analgesic 
dosages had been increased to the maximum allowable levels. 
Soon, the doctors said, soon they would do nothing for her. 
The pain would transcend medicine's ability to control it, 
and there would be nothing left for Scully except the pain.	
	And the waiting for it to stop.
	Mulder shifted on the seat beside the bed, trying to 
think of a story he had never told her. He decided to make 
one up.
	"Do you remember the Samantha clone?" he asked. He 
looked, and sure enough, her brow creased. She had never 
accepted that the... being that had claimed to be a clone of 
his sister. She had been unable to explain it, however, and 
she had finally told him that she was just going to file it 
under "Wacky" and forget about it.
	"Anyway," Mulder continued, "...you do remember the 
case?"
	She nodded. 
	"Well, there's something I never told you about that 
case."
	Scully's right eyebrow danced, just a little, and 
Mulder had to look away to hide the shining in his eyes. "I 
had a dream that night, Scully. A dream about you and me and 
her. Not that...thing, but the real Samantha. I dreamt that 
she did come back, and that she had been somewhere, and she 
had wonderful stories to tell of where she'd been and what 
she'd seen. She told us of faraway places and people that 
looked like you and I, and thought like you and I, and 
wanted to help this world, these people, join the community 
of worlds that lived between the stars, the places and 
communities that are just waiting for this world to realize 
that we are not alone. And that you saw the truth in her 
words, that she had brought something, some incontrovertible 
piece of evidence that even your pure scientific mind 
couldn't find an explanation for."
	He managed to look at her again.
	Her eyes closed, her face peaceful, if only for a few 
moments, the pain forgotten. Mulder heard the reassuring 
beep of the monitor and sighed. She was asleep. Good.
	The door opened, and Mulder looked up.
	Dr. Myers was there, looking grim as usual. He made a 
motion with his hand, a "C'mere" thing that Mulder 
understood.
	Sighing, he stood. Reaching down, he grasped her wrist 
and squeezed gently.
	I'll be right back, he thought, and in his mind he 
heard her voice answering him, the sound of it clear and 
beautiful.
	I'll be here.

-2-
New York City

	"How much more time can we wait?" a man asked.
	Another man glanced at him through a cloud of smoke. 
His voice was soft, apologetic. "It does not matter. 
Anything we do now will not matter."
	The first man leaned back, scratching his chin. "Why 
is that?"
	"I miscalculated," the second man said, exhaling. "I 
guessed wrong."
	"And now she will die?"
	The second man nodded. He was sad. There were those 
that said the emotion of sadness had been surgically removed 
from him years ago.
	"That is unacceptable. This will turn the Mulder man 
into... a crusading liability. He has nothing to hold him 
back now, nothing to check his actions. He will stop at 
nothing to uncover the truth."
	The second man smiled a thin, humorless smile. "Oh, 
I'm not too sure of that."
	"What do you mean?"
	"Mulder's crusade has always had a specific target. 
Give him what he wants, and he's impotent."
	"Are you saying-"
	"Yes. We will return his sister to him. It's always 
been what he's wanted anyway. Why not-"
	"Her memories?"
	"I never said we would give her back alive," the 
second man pointed out.
	"Dead women tell no tales?"
	"Of course, it will look like natural causes."
	The first man considered this. "Payment in kind? For 
the loss of your son?"
	The second man sat upright, crushing his cigarette 
out. "No one is to speak of that," he whispered. "Ever."
	The first man shrugged. "It had to be said, sooner or 
later. How much of this is vendetta, anyway? How many lives 
have you-"
	"Always for your protection," the second man pointed 
out. "Always for the project."
	"And now the project stands in ruins, the baker's 
dozen of women proving that it was doomed from the 
beginning. What do you have to show for half a century of 
playing God?"
	Silence.
	"I thought so. Very well. Return his sister. Alive. 
Wipe her memories as best you can. By the time he's able to 
get anything coherent out of her, we will have dismantled 
the apparatus. He will find nothing, even if she takes him 
to the places she's been."
	"But she can identify-"
	"Who?"
	"I see your point. When?"
	"The return?" The first man sighed. "If you must 
continue to play your little games, then so be it. Return 
her just before the Scully woman achieves her final reward."
	"As you wish," the second man said, standing to leave. 
"As you wish."

-3-
Johns Hopkins Medical Center

	"Mr. Mulder," Dr. Myers said softly, "we need to talk. 
Mrs. Scully is waiting for us in my office."
	Mulder knew what was coming and flinched. Just like 
the threat of the guilt that was to come, this subject, too, 
had been looming for days. Shrugging to himself, Mulder 
followed the doctor to his office, trying to think ahead, 
trying to find the words, the arguments to counteract what 
he knew was coming.
	Upon entering the office he saw that they had planned 
for him, that they had been prepared. X-rays and MRIs were 
scattered around, some pinned the backlighted viewers, 
others piled neatly on the desk. Mrs. Scully sat in a chair, 
her eyes far away, eyes rimmed in red from crying.
	"Fox," she said softly, standing. She moved to him, 
enveloping him in her arms. The hug was brief, motherly. 
They parted and sat, the doctor moving behind his desk.
	"Mrs. Scully asked for this meeting, so I'll let her 
begin," he said gently, softly.
	"Fox," she whispered. "Dana...she...."
	"It's time," Mulder said, nodding. "Time for her to 
go."
	Mrs. Scully nodded, relieved that it wasn't going to 
be the battle she'd feared. 
	"Her brothers?"
	"Waiting downstairs," Maggie said. "I've spoken with 
them. They understand that even though you and Dana 
never..." she left the thought unfinished. "That you are the 
closest person to her."
	"Did you show them the letter?" Mulder asked.
	Maggie Scully nodded. "Yes. Yes I did."
	The letter.
	Mulder's eyes lost focus as he jammed a hand into his 
pocket and fingered the folded piece of paper. He could 
recite it, word for word:


Mom, Charlie, Bill -
	
	As I take these last steps towards the door that leads 
to my eventual reunion with Dad and Melissa, I need you all 
to know that you have been more than I could have ever hoped 
for. I can hear the voices of our ancestors calling from 
beyond, calling me to join them in everlasting life. I do 
not know what comes next, and contrary to what Mulder would 
argue until his own dying breath, he doesn't either. I want 
you all to know that I do not blame him, for he is my best 
friend, the man I have come to know above all others. I have 
little memory of what my life was like before him, little 
knowledge of the person I was before he came into my life. I 
know that you all will support him, that you will hold him 
blameless for that which has happened to me, for it was me 
who made the decision to stay by his side, it was I who 
joined with him, cleaved to him as a wife might have in 
other days, other times. It was I who made that decision, 
not he. And so, I have one final request of you, my family. 
I will watch over him from whatever world comes next; of 
that I have no doubt. But in this world, in this time, I ask 
you to watch over him as well, for he is family to us, to 
me. He is closer than a brother, closer than a parent, 
closer even than a lover to me. He is my other half, the 
part of me that is external yet makes me whole. And so when 
it is my time to leave, I ask that he be by my side, as 
family. I love you all,

	Dana.


	"...so, it is up to you," Myers was saying.
	"Excuse me?" Mulder asked, blinking. 
	"I was saying that the only reason Miss Scully is 
holding on is because of you. We've noticed it in her 
charts. She weakens when you're not around, but the moment 
you enter the room, even if she is asleep, her heart beats 
more strongly, she becomes more aware. It is obvious to us, 
although medical science is unable to explain it, that you, 
Mr. Mulder, are keeping Scully alive through the sheer force 
of your will."
	Mulder blinked again, not sure that he understood.
	"I'm sorry?"
	Maggie Scully jumped in. "What the doctor is saying is 
that... Dana needs your permission, Fox."
	"Permission?"
	"To die."
	Mulder tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. 
"I...uh..."
	"Fox," Maggie said softly. "Dana is suffering. She's 
in extreme pain. The cancer is inoperable. We've tried every 
treatment known to man and then some. You've...done 
everything you can." She paused. "This is my daughter we're 
talking about, Fox, and I'm asking you...let her go.
	"Please. Let her go."
	Mulder looked at the woman who had become a surrogate 
mother to him, a woman that in another iteration of this 
universe might have become his mother-in-law.
	He fingered the vial in his pocket.
	And remembered.	
	Remembered another letter, given to him by a man he'd 
never met, a man who had hand-carried it to him, a letter 
obviously written by Dana.

Mulder-

	My friend, my best friend, one last favor of you 
before I go. I can ask only you because those that are my 
blood clan would not be able to find it within themselves to 
do what I must now plead of you. 
	This is the second half of a binary poison. I have 
already taken the first part, and it will stay in my system 
for six to seven months. The second part is in the vial that 
the man who has handed you this letter will hand to you when 
you ask him to. And you must ask him, for he will not 
release it to you unless you do.
	The second half will cause me to fall asleep, and 
shortly thereafter, pass on to whatever comes next. All you 
must do is drip a small amount into my mouth.
	When my time has come, Mulder, please do this for me 
if I am suffering. I have no desire to suffer. You have 
witnessed my living will; please witness my dying wish. 
	I have no idea of what comes after this life, Mulder. 
I was taught of everlasting life in the kingdom of the 
Creator. All I know, all I believe is that if I have 
memories of my Earthly life wherever I am going, I know that 
I will never forget you, or our time spent together.
	There is much I wish I had the time to say to you, 
words that I know you ached to hear, words that I myself 
ached to say. Memories that I wished to create with you, my 
friend, memories of a life spent together. Please do not 
hate me for abandoning you in the middle of our journey. 
Please do not think badly of me for being weak of body, for 
I was always strong of heart...for you. I know that it did 
not seem this way during our time together, but my thoughts 
were always filled with you, my heart was all but 
overflowing with you, my friend. I cannot remember what my 
life was like without you, and I hate that you will have to 
learn what that is without me. But as long as you remember 
me, remember us, I will live on forever.
	Love,
	Dana

	"I understand," he'd said then and now, said again. 
He'd held his hand out and the nameless, faceless man had 
turned the vial over to him.
	"Give us a few moments," Maggie said. Dr. Myers nodded 
and stood, leaving the office to the two of them.
	After the door clicked closed behind him, Maggie 
turned to the man she had so deeply hoped would be a part of 
her family someday, joined through the holy union of 
marriage.
	"Fox," she said, scooting closer to him. "Fox...Dana 
told me that she wanted you...only you...by her side when it 
was time. I will respect that. Charlie and Bill have decided 
to respect that as well. Please, give us a few moments to 
say goodbye, and then..."
	She couldn't finish.
	"I understand, Mrs. Scully," Mulder said, his voice 
dead, his soul even deader. 
	Without a word, Maggie Scully stood and left Mulder 
alone.

-4-

	Mulder stood in the hallway, waiting for the three of 
them to leave the room. The tears flowed freely down his 
face now. It's almost over, Scully, he thought. In a few 
minutes you'll be at peace, forever.
	The door opened. Maggie Scully exited, followed by her 
two sons.
	Bill stopped in front of Mulder, his eyes tight and 
rimmed with red. They stared at each other for a long 
moment. "Mulder," he finally said, and then after a minute, 
added, "Fox."
	Mulder closed his eyes, knowing what was coming.
	He was wrong.
	"She loved you," Bill choked out. "God knows why, but 
she did. Let her go, Mulder. Let the pain stop." He reached 
out and squeezed his sister's partner's shoulder, nodded 
once, and turned to leave.
	Charlie was next.
	"Mr. Mulder, I never knew you that well," he said 
softly, "but my sister thought the world of you. Thinks the 
world of you, I mean."
	Mulder said nothing.
	"If you love my sister," Charlie said, his voice 
quavering, "you'll let her go." And then he, too, turned to 
leave. Mulder felt himself starting to sob and opened his 
mouth, taking deep, wracking breaths. 
	Mrs. Scully was last, and she held something in her 
hand. Mulder saw that it was a small velvet-covered box. 
Reaching out, Maggie took his hand and pulled it to her, 
placing the box in his palm and closing his fingers around 
it.
	"Do you know what a hope chest is, Fox?" She asked. 
Wordlessly, Mulder nodded. "Dana bought these when she was 
sixteen. Back then, she had a deep romantic streak." Maggie 
laughed, her voice hitching through the tears. "That was 
before she met Marcus.
	"Anyway...every girl dreams of her wedding, Fox, and 
Dana, as serious as she was, also had a side of her that was 
a dreamer. The side that her father used to encourage. She 
got some money from relatives on her Sweet Sixteen, and she 
bought these."
	Mulder opened the box.
	Two rings, two gold bands, stared back at him.
	Wedding rings.
	"She had no idea who she was going to marry, but she 
liked the idea of having these rings in her hope chest." 
Maggie took a deep breath, trying to speak past the lump in 
her throat. "I think...she would want you to have them."
	Mulder said nothing. He closed the box and stuck it in 
his pocket, next to the vial. Without a word, he turned and 
entered the room.

-5-

	She was still there, her eyes closed. Mulder reached 
behind him and twisted the lock on the door. The room was 
windowless, stark...barren. Only the bed and the machines 
that monitored the slowly ebbing life of Dana Scully were in 
the room.
	The bed, the machines and...him.
	As if in a trance, Mulder moved to the side of the bed 
and looked down. Tenderly, he reached out and smoothed a 
lock of her hair back behind her ear.
	Not much hair left, he thought. The radiation had seen 
to that.
	He closed his eyes and remembered her hair. The color 
of fire and spun gold, mixed in with other colors, colors 
that had no name. Colors that belonged to her, to Dana, 
shades and hues that were uniquely hers.
	"Dana," he said softly. 
	Her eyes opened.
	Weakly, she tried to smile.
	He pulled the velvet box from his pocket.
	"Your mother gave me these," he said gently. He took 
the smaller one out and fingered it, turning it over and 
over in his hand. He held it up to the light and peered 
through it.
	"I know I never said it..." he started, and then 
stopped. He felt the tears rushing through him, threatening 
to burst out of his chest with a strangled cry of rage and 
pain. "Oh, God, Dana!" he gasped. He held his breath, 
feeling the pain surging in his veins. Letting it out with a 
shuddering gasp, he tried again.
	"I know that I never told you...and I know I never 
showed you... but...God...Dana, I love you so much." The 
last two words had been spoken between two shuddering gasps 
of breath. 
	He pulled the chair back to the edge of the bed and 
sat, dropping the velvet box on the bed.
	"I know that you don't want me to hate," he started, 
using the banal speech he'd prepared to gather his strength 
for what had to be done, what she'd asked him to do. "I know 
you don't want me to hate the people that did this to you. I 
know that. I can't promise you that. But I will promise 
you...I promise you that I will continue our search, our 
journey to find the truth. I promise that I won't go off 
half-cocked, that I just won't go looking to get myself 
killed so I can join you." He paused, still fingering the 
ring. "I promise that I will keep the lessons you have 
taught me close to my heart, Dana." He laughed. "That when I 
hear hoofbeats, I'll think of horses, not zebras." He stood, 
unable to sit any longer. "I promise that I will look at the 
world as you taught me to, with the dual vision of scientist 
and the wide, wonder-filled eyes of a child who never gave 
up her love of the sea or the mysteries it contains. I 
promise you that I will never know another like I know you." 
He stopped, and then began again.
	"I know...that I will never...love...another as I love 
you now. As I have always loved you." Holding the ring 
carefully, Mulder reached down and slipped it onto her left 
ring finger. 
	Retrieving the box, Mulder removed the other ring. Her 
eyes were wide, watching him. He slid the ring onto his own 
finger, and surprising neither of them, it fit.
	Perfectly.
	"I will never take this ring off," he said slowly, 
looking deeply into her eyes. "This is...the last thing that 
you have given me, and I will cherish it as I will cherish 
your memory. For the rest of my life." He stopped, and then 
started again. "Because...in here..." he said, tapping his 
chest, "...in here, Dana...you are my wife."
	Leaning down, he kissed her gently on the lips, once.
	When he straightened, he saw that her lips were 
moving. He could hear her trying to whisper something.
	Leaning down, he turned his head, straining to hear.
	"I love you," Dana Katherine Scully whispered.
	Mulder straightened. "I know," he said. "I always 
knew."
	Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a rush. Looking 
at her again, he said, "Well...it's time. It's time for you 
to go, my love." He reached into his pocket and found the 
small vial. "I got your note," he said, holding up the vial 
for her to see. Her eyes grew wide for a moment, and then 
softened in acceptance.
	"There's so much still to say...still to do," Mulder 
whispered. "So many things I wanted to..." He faltered, 
feeling the warm, slick tears sliding down his face. "...I 
wanted to...hold you...make love with you...I wanted you to 
be there when the demons left me, so I could come to you 
whole, complete. There was supposed to be...so much more 
TIME!" He stepped back, not sure if he could do it, not sure 
if he could complete this last, final request of hers.
	"But there's no time," he hurried on. "No more time."
	He uncapped the vial.
	"Dana...are you sure?" he asked.
	Looking into her eyes, he saw her answer. Her head 
nodded once, and then again, twice.
	"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," he whispered. "I'm 
sorry I let you down." Reaching down, Mulder gently pried 
her lips open and slowly tipped the vial over. A single 
clear drop hung on the rim for an eternity and then fell, 
slapping wetly against her lips.
	Scully licked her lips, closing her eyes. Her hand 
came up, fingers grasping the air. Mulder took her hand in 
his own, looking at the wedding rings they both wore.
	He reached down with his mouth and kissed her fingers, 
and then felt the fingers of her other hand in his hair, 
gently stroking.
	"Go in peace," Mulder said softly.
	He raised his head. He owed her this. He owed her to 
be the last image she had of this world.
	They locked eyes.
	"Fox," she whispered, her voice clear. Mulder's eyes 
widened in shock and surprise. He leaned closer, straining 
to catch every last word.
	"I'll be waiting," she wheezed. He nodded, unable to 
speak.
	"I love you...." she said.
	And was gone.
	Her chest rose one last, final time, held for a short 
eternity, and then fell.
	The heart monitor made a horrible electronic burp, and 
then dissolved into a steady annoying whine. Without looking 
away, Mulder reached over and shut it off. 
	The room was silent.
	As silent as a tomb, he thought.
	He held her hand for close to ten minutes, the words 
to an almost-forgotten ritual coming to his mind unbidden. 
He said a prayer for her, asking whatever God it was that 
ruled the stars to look after her, to watch out for her, to 
keep her safe until it was time for him to join her again. 
	So this is what it's like, he thought.
	This is what it's like not to have Scully in your 
life.
	It was unbearable.
	His mind was racing, the words coming one on top of 
the other, nonsensical, endless. Never hear her voice again 
never see her smile never hear her shoot down one of your 
inane theories never show her another slide of an spaceship 
never see her in scrubs after an autopsy never see her 
giving Skinner an earful never hear her saying "I'm fine" 
never hear her voice on the other end of the phone never 
hear "Mulder, it's me" again never able to call her when the 
dreams come when the pain comes when Samantha comes in the 
night never never never never.
	Never.
	And in his head, he heard it.
	A collect call, from beyond this life.
	Her voice, clear as a bell, beautiful as always, the 
one sound he had come to cherish above all others. Her 
voice, calling to him. He knew he was not insane, he knew it 
<was> her, that she was reaching out to him from beyond, 
sending him a message, saying to him the words he needed to 
hear.
	Looking at the ceiling, holding her hand, Mulder hear 
the three words he thought he'd never hear again.
	"Mulder...I'm fine."

-6-


	"Thank you," he whispered. 
	Standing, he released her hand, laying it gently 
against the bed. He looked down at the ring on her finger 
and twisted it so the correct side was showing. He looked at 
his own hand, marveling at how the ring fit perfectly.
	Turning, he walked to the door, unlocking it and 
opening it.
	Maggie Scully was in the hallway. Her sons were 
nowhere to be seen.
	"She's gone," Mulder said softly.
	"No, she's not," Maggie said, clutching a hand to her 
chest. "She'll always be in our hearts, Fox." 

-------
THE END


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Dawson E. Rambo | drambo@azstarnet.com | Author & Programmer
"Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy
and taste good with ketchup." -- bumper sticker