Date: Thu, 17 Sep1998

Title: Mulder's Ghost
Author: Hawthorne Kessler
Rating: PG
Classification: Angst, Angst, Angst
Summary: Mulder goes over the edge after learning Scully is presumed to be
dead as a result of a car accident.

Disclaimer: All characters contained wherein are the property of Chris
Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. They are used without
permission, but with a healthy dose of obsessive love.

Author's notes: This is dedicated to all of the writers who have influenced
me, including, but not limited to, the ultimate, Lydia Bower, Rachel Anton,
Ten, Sheryl Martin, Karen Rasch... all of whom I have never communicated
with, but who make my day when I see they have posted a new story.

Mulder's Ghost
by Hawthorne Kessler

Part One

X-Files office
4:45 pm

She was gone again. She was gone. Gone. He had seen her die before,
he had been there to see the bullet enter her head, had felt the warmth of
her blood as it flowed out of her body, soaking his skin, scarring his
psyche forever. But he hadn't been there this time.

"We think Scully might be gone, Mulder."

Skinner's words had sent him crashing to the cold cement floor, shaking
violently.

"We think she might be gone."

Car in the river. No body. Too much evidence to suggest she might have
survived. Gone.

She was gone. His validation. He'd known for a very long time that all
he did was the sum of Scully. He could remember very little of his life
before she had appeared. Every thought he'd had in the past five years had
her face attached to it and nothing was just of himself. Everything was
guided by Scully. He had become a man because of her. And now she was
gone.
His human credential was gone and Fox Mulder ceased to exist. He sat
behind his desk a mass of skin, muscle, bones, his blood flowing sluggishly,
his slowed heartbeat aiding in the shut down. Dead eyes, dead mind, dead
Scully.

He stared into nothingness. He barely breathed. He sat behind his
cluttered desk, whisps of memories playing out before him like scenes on a
movie screen.

He watched Scully walk through the office door, her beautiful face a
mask of perpetual skeptism, humor, intellegence and strength. One eyebrow
cocked, her blue eyes so wide and precious. She looked at him as she rested
her hip on the corner of his desk, arms folded across her chest.

Mulder, do you really believe there is any truth to this?
"Why not?" he whispered.
Why not, Mulder?
"I believed, Scully. I believed."
I know you did, Mulder.

Her look is so tender, her smile gentle...

What are we going to do with you, Mulder?

"Scully... Scully!" his voice rang out in the basement office, his
ghost leaving just as quickly as she had come. She faded slowly, his hand
catching the edge of her form as she disappeared. He touched his Scully one
last time.

All his life he had been searching for the truth, and he had found the
most important, profound truth in the friendship Scully had provided him.
There could be no truth anymore, not without her.

Blinded with tears, Mulder stood and tore into everything within his
reach. His "I Want to Believe" poster was savagely ripped off the wall, he
opened desk drawers and threw everything into the air. Stacks of X-files
were flung across the room. He broke coffee mugs, the lamp on his desk,
picked up his chair and tossed it against the glass wall separating the
office area from Scully's lab area. His desk was upended with a mighty
heave...

Sobbing uncontrollably, unsatisfied with the damage he had wrought, for
it had done nothing to bring her back, he sank to the floor on his knees,
ignoring the glass that cut deeply into his flesh. He screamed her name
over and over until his voice was a raw, ravaged gasp. They had been
through so much together, it couldn't end this way. It couldn't. She could
not leave him. He could not leave her.

The door to the office opened and AD Skinner came in. "Oh, my God," he
muttered. He turned to an agent behind him and ordered, "Call the
paramedics."
He stepped slowly to where Agent Mulder lay amidst blood soaked shards
of glass. The agent had taken up the larger pieces and sliced his arms all
to hell. Blood flowed copiously from some of the deeper wounds, mingled
grotesquely with his face and hair. Skinner coruched down beside Mulder and
place his hands on Mulder's shaking shoulders.

"Agent Mulder," he murmured. When there was no response, he gently
turned him a bit and gasped in horror at what he saw in Mulder's eyes. Even
in Nam, in the very depths of hell, he had never seen such brutal agony
etched into anyone's face or soul. And he, Assistant Director Skinner, one
of the toughest bastards ever to walk the hallowed halls of the J. Edgar
Hoover Building, let out a small sob.

Paramedics arrived and carefully raised Mulder from the shattered ruins
of his life. He was weak from the loss of blood. He could feel what was
left of his soul seep from his body and he used what was left of emotion to
love it.

Part Two


He woke two nights later, to utter silence and darkness. Rising
woodenly from his stark hospital bed, he went to the closet and donned his
torn, blood stained clothing. In the stillness of night, he walked out of
the hospital and back to his office.

He wanted to die there. It was the only place he could die and find his
way back to Scully, for that was where they had first met. It was where
they had talked, laughed, argued, found safety and peace. Their own place,
tucked neatly away from everyone else.

He walked in and flipped the switch to turn on the hum of flourescent
lighting. The place had been cleaned, glass and papers swept up, furniture
righted. He sat down in his chair and removed his weapon from his holster.

He pressed the nuzzle against his temple. He breathed in a sigh of
relief and expectancy. He would soon join Scully, and together again, they
would be the truth.

His finger twiched. A gasp stopped him. His eyes flew open and he saw
his ghost standing in the doorway, a look of shock and confusion on her
beautiful face.

"Scully," he whispered. "I'm coming Scully. We can haunt this place
together. We have to be together. Forever, Scully, I'm your's, you're mine
Scully, I love you..."

His ghost took a step forward, her hand extended towards him.

Mulder, put the gun down.

"I need you, Scully."

"I'm here, Mulder." She took another step, her body shaking from fear.

She was close enough to touch... Mulder reached out and touched his
ghost.

Scully lunged and grabbed the gun from Mulder's hand.

Mulder touched his ghost. He *touched* her. His face contorted as he
felt the solidity of her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, buried his
face against her belly, began to sob her name, over and over, touching his
Scully. She bent over him slightly, one arm wrapped around his shoulders,
her other around his head, her fingers buried in his hair, holding him to
her.

Mulder felt his soul again. His soul had come back.

His ghost had disappeared to be replaced with the truth. He had once
again found the truth, and as he had always known, it was Scully.

END