Name: Nellie Johnson ((GrlNextDoor))
Summary: Set sometime in the future, Mulder's ex-partner comes to
Samantha's funeral as she comtemplates on what might have been.
Disclaimer: Sorry guys, aren't mine. If they were mine you'd be able to
tell because I wouldn't make them be plagued with an unreasonable amount of
UST unlike that mean old Chris Carter who is forcing them into abstinence
like monks instead of just letting them get on with it.... Oh, but now I'm
starting to depress myself.
Author's Notes: Be NICE! This is my first story and I don't appreciate
flames. I'm sensitive to burns... *sniff* =( Oh... anduh... the title may
be changed sometime in the near future... It... doesn't sit well with me,
but I'm working on it.
Unrequited Love
by GrlNextDoor
The moment I saw him all of my old feelings came rushing back. I had
prepared myself for this—this onslaught on angst, but still I felt my knees
turn to jelly at the sight of him. Rain was pouring down from the sky in
buckets, dripping off his face and mingling in his tears as he let his well
established barriers slip down. Fox William Mulder, the ultimate enigma of
the modern world, was coming apart at the seams. As I watched him I
remembered when I left the X-Files, oh so long ago. Amazingly enough it
wasn’t a fight that drove me off. It wasn’t because Mulder was slowly
smothering me as he tends to do. I left because he stopped smothering me.
The phone calls dwindled, our conversations grew shorter, and our once
comfortable silences turned ugly and awkward.
Mulder was falling into the abyss of despair as he often did. Except this
time I didn’t believe he would be coming back. So I left. I handed in my
resignation and packed up my desk while he was at lunch. I went to stay
with my mother for awhile before moving on, I suppose I did that because he
knew where my mother lived and he knew I was most likely to be there. If he
had called or showed up on her doorstep I would have come back in a second,
but he didn’t. I wonder how long it took him to even realize I was gone.
But now as I stood there I realized I still love him. I used to deny it, at
first. He had done so much to hurt me there was no way I could still love
him. Whether he meant to or not in his incessant search for the Truth he
killed part of my soul. Took his boot heel and ground my innocence into the
ground until it was no more. Well, maybe not my innocence, but somewhere
along the line I lost to much. I gave to much to this quest. I was forced
to cross a line no one should ever have to cross.
So I reasoned that if I could still feel the old flame, the tug of old
attractions after all he had done to me, he must feel the same. Then I saw
the other woman standing beside him, laying a supporting hand on his arm,
acting like she was his goddamned messiah or something.
I hate it. I remember the first time I saw her, met her. She didn’t like me
because I was part of who Mulder was before he met her. I suppose she
thought that before she came into his life there was no Mulder. What a
bitch. Mulder, of course, couldn’t see that. Still doesn’t, in fact. I
wouldn’t be surprised if he thought she was his goddamned messiah.
He probably even thinks she loves him, but I can see she doesn’t. Call it
woman’s intuition, but she really hates him. She’s toying with him, using
him and hurting him to further her own ends. I guess he just got so tired
of sitting around in his dark little hole that the first person who
appeared got his undying devotion and made him blind to her dark side.
I think it’s called imprinting.
The bitch draws him like a moth to an open flame, with much the same
effect. Still though, he doesn’t see it. Just closes his eyes and jumps
blindly, expecting her to catch him. She pretends to be all remorseful
after he hits the ground, but I know. I know.
So when I finally tore down all of my barriers for him that he had helped
build himself I guess I expected him to return the favor. In reality he had
the audacity to tell me to fuke off. Well, maybe not in those exact words,
but I know what he meant. After all I had done for him, all I had
sacrificed for his fucking quest he had the nerve... He might have loved
me, once, but not anymore. He can only see the bitch standing next to him,
her face contorted like she actually felt sorrow for him.
So now, all these years later when I got word that Mulder finally found his
sister, although she was dead, I needed to see it for myself. I thought it
might grant me a sense of closure for this aching void that fills a part of
my soul. I’m not sure of the exact details of Samantha’s passing, but I’m
sure the bitch had something to do with it— who else?
So I pack my overnight bag and go to the funeral, I figure after I lost so
much on this goddamned accursed quest of his I should see the after
effects. I thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d see me and he’d fall head
over heels in love with me again, it would be just like old times. I
glanced at the coffin that holds the body of a young woman who even dead
managed to ruin my life. I am ashamed of my resentment of her, but I can’t
help it. Because she disappeared over thirty years ago my life, my career,
even my heart was turned into shambles.
I shouldn’t be there, I walked away from this a long time ago and I don’t
regret doing so. Apparently neither does Mulder from the look he’s giving
his bitch girlfriend. I turned to go before he and the bitch can see me,
but a hand stops me. I looked up and saw Walter Skinner giving me an odd
look. I must say I was surprised to see him there, at Samantha’s funeral,
but a lot must have changed after I left.
"AD Skinner," My voice is stoic, atleast I don’t appear to show the turmoil
of my emotions on the outside. I was always good at that, hiding my
feelings. That was my undoing perhaps, because I hid from Mulder so long I
let him slip right through my fingers... and right into the fingers of that
bitch.
Skinner looks about to reply, but he only shakes his head as if to clear
it. He never knew why I left all those years ago and he won’t ask. He put a
lot on the line for me and Mulder in our time, but I think even he could
see that it was a lost cause with the bitch in the picture. I’m sure he
atleast could see past her ‘loving’ facade, I hope so anyway, because
Mulder will need all the help he can get with that bitch on his hands. But
I won’t help him, Mulder hurt me one to many times. The straw that broke
the camel’s back being that even through all I did for him and the X-Files
he didn’t love me anymore.
So Skinner let me go with a merely dismissive inclination of his head, "Ms.
Fowley."
As I got into my car I only spared one last look to the love of my life,
willing him to glance up and see me, to say my name and run after me. But
instead as he just stood there wallowing in the mud and the rain and he has
eyes only for her.
Her. The bitch. The scourge of my nightmares:
Special Agent Dana Katharine Scully, MD.
What a Bitch.