February Stars
By Dana Quell

Stars.  There were so many of them, burning brightly at their
posts, posts not abandoned in a million years.  There was
something strangely comforting abuot the stars, the way they
glittered like a million jeweled eyes in the dark, or the way
they remained silent and strong.

Strength was what Mulder needed right now, strength to
continue his search for the truth, and his sister Samantha.
At this point in his life, he felt like throwing in the
towel, but he knew that if he did, he would never forgive
himself.  Scully would never forgive him, either.  She had
already lost so much in his pursuit for the truth that his
quest had become hers.

"Hey," a soft voice behind him said.  Mulder turned, and
looked over at the source.

"Hey, yourself," he replied as he shifted over on the bench
so his partner could sit down.

"What are you doing out here, Mulder?" she asked, sitting
down.  "It's freezing out.  You'll catch your death out
here."

He grinned.  "Just looking at the stars.  Those February
stars.  Watching them 'til they're gone."

Her usually stern gaze softened.  "C'mon, Mulder, I'll take
you home.  It's not healthy to be out here in the cold so
late by yourself." She began pulling on his arm, but he
shrugged her small hands away.

"No!  I want to watch the stars.  This is the best spot to
watch them!"  His voice softening, he sighed.  "She used to
love watching the stars too.  In long car rides, she'd glance
out of the window and watch them until she fell asleep.
That's why we had her buried here."

"Mulder, I know you miss her, but you have to move on.  Get
over it, get on with your life.  Rise like a phoenix and live
again.  Remember her, but don't obsess.  Let go."

Mulder put his hands over his tearing eyes.  "I can't.  I
can't let go.  Today was her birthday.  February 23.  I have
to sit here and watch the stars with her.  I can't let her be
alone on her birthday."

Dark green eyes narrowed.  "Mulder, she's dead.  Get over it.
In the meantime, I suggest you take some time off of work to
get your thoughts together.  I have to go now.  I will talk
to you later."  She got up, and Mulder watched her leave.
Agent Forrestier was a good agent, and an all right partner,
caring, considerate, but she wasn't Scully.  Nobody was
Scully anymore, and nobody ever would be again.

Settling back down, he prepared himself to watch the February
stars  next to a cold, gray slab of gravestone.

Finis
  ?