Title: Only The Ones Who Believe Author: Michelle Kiefer Email: msk1024@aol.com Episode: Little Green Men Summary: And gravity throws all these rules in our way And sometimes the spirit refuses to play Category: Post-ep Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Not mine. Written for the Little Green Men episode challenge for After_the_Fact Melissa, that untethered spirit, once said that life was a path and that the people you met as you traveled were the reason for the journey. Chalk one up for Melissa, for one person in particular has made her new path a fascinating one. She wonders what her sister would make of Fox Mulder. Maybe Melissa would understand that strange, beautiful man. These are the times she really misses her sister. But Melissa, ever the wanderer, has left for parts unknown. Well, not completely unknown. Letters arrive from places like Baja California, Tucumcari, Santa Monica, Tijuana, scrawled with new age talk and words of support. Packages, too, once in a while, filled with crystals and Native American trinkets and a lovely Mexican peasant skirt she'll probably never get to wear. Melissa had been the only one who supported her decision to join the FBI. "Dana, no one can walk a path set by someone else. You have to choose your own way." What would Melissa say now? Because Dana--I can't go dancing, I have to finish my chemistry paper--Scully has set off in a direction she could never have imagined. Melissa would laugh at Dana's recent exploits--Dana who played by the rules and kept her nose to the grindstone. In a matter of months, she'd held a government official at gunpoint, defied an Air Force Colonel, and earlier this week brazenly deceived fellow FBI agents as to Mulder's whereabouts. But that was nothing compared to giving the slip to the two people who were tailing her and flying to Puerto Rico to find Mulder. When she was growing up, rules and regulations had seemed comforting. Now, a deepening mistrust of the rule-makers left her feeling at odds with the structure of her previous life. She supposes robbing banks and driving the getaway car would be the next step on the path to perdition. It seems there is no end in sight to the risks she is willing take to help Mulder. She wishes she could ask Melissa's advice right now. "He's dying inside, Missy, and I don't know what to do about it," she whispers. Mulder's very soul seems to be withering before her eyes and she can do nothing but stand by and watch. When had she come to care so much about him? Standing in the Watergate parking garage, it was all she could do not to enfold him in her arms. She had noted the slumped shoulders, shadowed eyes and the weariness in his voice. This had worried her so much more than his impulsive risk-taking ever had. She was almost relieved to find out that Mulder had hared off again, even while her worry for him threatened to overwhelm her. She remembers the way his eyes would light up when he'd propose his unbelievable theories. She'd never met anyone with such passion, such intensity. Sometimes she feared that his brilliance would blind her as if she'd stared into the sun. But with the closing of the X-Files his whole belief system seemed to have faltered and it hurt her more than she could have ever imagined. More than her own yearning for the excitement and challenge of the files, she realized how much she missed watching the world through Mulder's eyes. He'd been unconscious when she found him, virtually incoherent when he came to, mumbling something about proof on a roll of tape he insisted on carrying away with them. She'd barely got him away from Arecibo before the military arrived. She'd had little opportunity to access his condition as they raced to the airport and got the first available flight off the island. Exhausted, he'd fallen asleep as soon as they had taken off, leaving her to wonder what had happened to him as she studied his sunburned face and sweatsoaked clothes And now she sits at a table in the backroom of a dumpy hotel worrying again about Mulder as he faces one more disappointment, one more dead end. The tape is blank. "You know, an electrical surge in the outlet, the storm may have degaussed everything, erasing the entire tape," she says. As if explaining things would somehow make it better. Nothing was going to make this better. "You still have nothing." "I may not have the X-Files, Scully, but I still have my work," he says, as he fusses with the tape recorder. His tone, when he speaks again, is so matter-of-fact, so quiet, that she almost misses the importance of his words. "And I still have you. And I still have myself." If Melissa were here, Dana is pretty sure that she'd approve. She'd probably say that no matter how close Mulder had come to losing his faith, he still seems to have at least a tiny shred of it in his grasp. He settles back in his chair and gets back to the work listening to the oily voices on the tape. His arm is warm under her hand as she takes her leave. End Life gives us magic And life brings us tragedy Everyone suffers some loss Still we have faith in it Childlike hope There's a reason that outweighs the cost And gravity throws all these rules in our way And sometimes the spirit refuses to play Only the ones who believe Ever see what they dream Ever dream what comes true The Color of Roses by Beth Neilsen Chapman To hear a clip of this beautiful song, go here: http://www.bethnielsenchapman.net/multimedia/thecolorofroses.mp3