THE IMPOSSIBLE DAY
BY:  Char Chaffin
Category:  MSR, post-ep for TINH, Vignette
Rating:  PG
Disclaimers:  If only they were mine...

SUMMARY:  The passing of a love one always warrants a celebration of
his life -


"The Impossible Day"

There was a place within her that lay curled up in pain, begging for
some sort of reprieve.  It was a place she'd filled often in her
life, as one by one those she loved best had been taken from her. 
When the loss of that love was too great; when she had no choice but
to cry aloud at yet another injustice... she took all of the hurt and
all of the sorrow, and folded it up into that place.

And she continued on with her life.

Alone in a hospital room, holding her sister's lifeless hand...
pressing a kiss to her father's cold forehead.  Rocking her daughter
as she breathed her last... these were the sorrows that lay neatly
folded up in that place hidden inside.  She had shed tears but they
were just as hidden; somehow it was always expected of her to be
strong.  And it was not as if someone came up to her with a finger
pointed at her face, commanding her to be strong, to be tearless. 
No, that had always been her own constraints upon herself.

It was no different now... now that the most important force of her
life was gone.  She had another sorrow to fold and stack within;
another reason to find a private place, and cry.  

But Dana Scully would not cry today.

Today she dressed carefully in her best suit, his favorite suit.  It
was tight around the middle but she left it unbuttoned and wore a
loose blouse underneath.  As she'd dressed she had felt a fluttering
within - a miniscule reminder of the life growing inside her.  That
life pushed against the place of folded-up sorrow and pain; pushed
against it with minute hands and feet; pushed against it with the
faintest beating heart. The owner of those tiny feet and hands knew
only the need for life; it didn't recognize the importance of its
future mother having a place in which to fold her hurt.

Scully prayed the life fluttering within her would never know hurt -
and she would not cry today.

Today she would think about the father of her child and she would
smile with remembered fondness and with love; today she would rejoice
in the man and keep the ghost folded up tight.  She sat with her feet
pressed together and her eyes turned inward, thinking.  Remembering
the most irreverent moments of Fox Mulder's life - his life with her.
Bright specks of the past danced in front of her face and caused
first a smile, then a small chuckle - an exasperated shaking of the
head and a drop of the shocked jaw... a brimming of emotion and one
small tear of regret.

"Hey, Scully..."  Just those two words alone, heard a multitude of
times in her ear, over seven years of danger and darkness, joy and
success - she heard them again in her mind and her lips moved in a
soundless whisper as she echoed them.  "Hey, Scully."

They made her smile.  

"Get over here, Scully."  "Scully, where are you?"  "So, who'd you
tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?"  "Scully... I love
you."  "Scully... marry me."  "It's me, Scully."


It's me, Scully...  She loved the way he'd said her name.  No one
had ever spoken her name with such emotion - and no one would ever
call her Scully quite like that, again.  


But she would not cry about that, either.  Today she would smile at
the remembrance - she would celebrate his life.

The way his hair grew from his hairline; the bad cuts he sported
over the years and the teasing fit she gave him when he tried to grow
a mustache.  The ever-changing glow of those hazel eyes, every time
he looked at her.  The way his shoulders filled out a finely-tailored
wool suit; the cling of those wool slacks on his narrow, elegant hips
and long legs.

The way those legs had felt the night they'd slipped between hers,
as he'd held her tightly to his thrusting body.

She would sit amongst the sober-faced funeral attendees, and recall
these things that made her smile.

The total, endless giving of him - all of his love and all of his
devotion.  Fighting for her, going to the end of the earth to save
her... falling on his knees before her, to worship her.  The tears he
shed for her, and with her.  Everything about Mulder that had
exasperated her... everything about him that had made her heart ache
with love for him.  These were the ingredients that blended together,
resulting in her partner and her lover, her best friend.  

She chose to sit quietly, in her own separate space, and remember
all the wonderful things.  

Maybe later she would scream, and rail and shake her fists at the
Heavens above; maybe she would drive out to the shooting gallery and
empty her Sig into a body-shaped target, aiming for its vital areas,
pretending it was a Gray.  Maybe she would bury herself underneath
the covers of the bed in his apartment and surround herself with
everything familiar and dear, that belonged to him - and cry herself
so sick that the tiny fetus within her would flutter with the force
of her tears.

Maybe tomorrow.  But not today.  Today she chose to think about the
joy of knowing and loving Mulder.

She chose to recall the way his lips felt on her body, when every
inch of her was open and pulsing and sensitive with the need that
only he had ever been able to rouse.  She chose to feel his hands
covering her breasts so gently, and taste again the kisses that made
her melt in his arms and surrender all to him.  She chose to feel
again the strength of him within her body, so hard and full of life,
for her - always for her.  Tender one minute and pounding the next;
deep and sure and true; pure.  So very pure... for her.

She chose with selfish purpose to close everyone else out of her
mind, those that wanted to comfort her.  Maybe tomorrow she would
want comfort.  Today she only desired to think, and remember - and in
some small way rejoice for the time she'd had with Mulder.  It had
not been enough; eternity would not have been enough.  But it was all
she had been given, and so she chose to embrace it, dwell in it -
strengthen it.

Tomorrow, perhaps - she would cry.  Tomorrow she would hate with
unimaginable force, those responsible for his passing from her life. 
She would grieve with a single-minded obsession that bordered on
insanity.  Maybe tomorrow.

Today was not the time to be wasting her energies on hatred.  There
would be plenty of time for that, tomorrow.  Plenty of time to plan
whatever revenge she could, against their enemies.  She would look
forward to that particular battle - tomorrow.

Today she chose to give herself over to Fox Mulder, one more time. 
Today was all about him, what he had accomplished in the world, what
he had accomplished for her.  How he'd returned a broken piece of
herself, and made her that whole person she had once heard him claim
had been her legacy to him.  And it didn't matter who completed whom,
first... the miracle of it had always been their ability to mesh
themselves into one solid entity.  She chose to remember that.

And in doing so, she found a way to survive this one impossible day.


End

Thanks for reading this little homage to TINH, and see you all in
April, when we can celebrate for real!

If you liked what you read, please email me!  char@chaffin.com

Please visit my web site, at http//char.chaffin.com