Title: In the End Author: Agent L Classification: V, post-ep Rating: Nothing objectionable Spoilers: Vienen, Patience, Paper Hearts Distribution: Archive anywhere, but keep my name and e-mail attached please! Disclaimer: To Chris Carter, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and Fox: I know they're not mine, and no money, gifts or even chocolate would be expected or accepted for this. Summary: Mulder cleans out his office. Author's Notes: For Marlen -- she knows why! Feedback: Yes, please! LHoward388@aol.com. In the End In the end, there wasn't a lot to show for all the years of hard work. He took Sam's photo, carefully wrapped it in tissue paper, and tucked it safely along the side of the box, next to the chattering teeth and the alien head coffee mug. Then he turned and reached to pull the push pins from the poster, but hesitated as he stared at the bold white letters. He finally left it to hang there, a silent testimony to those strangers and friends he had met along the way -- many who were gone now, because like him, they wanted to believe. The nameplate was in the right hand drawer. He supposed it was technically bureau property, but unless another Fox Mulder happened to stroll through the doors, what use did they have for it? For that matter, what did he need it for? Well, it might make a good doorstop. He tossed it in the box, then noticed the small plastic bag that had been underneath it, a small, resealable bag that a mother might pack her child's sandwich in. This one contained a cloth heart, cut from a small girl's nightgown. He put that in the box too, tenderly, with a familiar ache in his heart. In the end, there wasn't a lot to show for all the years of hard work. He waited for the melancholy to sweep over him, for the nightmarish memories and the pain of regret to weigh him down. He listened for the whispered recriminations of failure and loss. He braced himself for the anger at the injustice of shortsighted bureaucrats and prepared for the surge of adrenalin that would send him back into the fight, bloody but not broken. All he felt was a sense of weariness. He was tired of tilting at windmills, of being the prophet crying in the wilderness, the man solely responsible for the fate of the world. That man was gone. He was a memory that lingered in the corners of the office, his singleminded search for the truth -- his life -- painstakingly documented in those files. Lots and lots of files. There would be those who would see him as a martyr, sacrificing himself for the truth, for the files, for little green men. They would see him as foolish -- or perhaps noble. There would be those who would be pleased at what they perceived as their victory, who could return to their clandestine meetings and hidden agendas with less fear of exposure now. He didn't really care what any of them thought. He never had. This decision was for him -- not for the world, not for some higher calling. He wanted the chance to live a normal life and be with the woman he loved, with his children...maybe even his grandchildren. To embrace the future instead of fighting it -- whether that future would be measured in days or years. In the end, there wasn't a lot to show for all the years of hard work. And in the end, he discovered it didn't really matter. The End