Title: I'll Never Let Go of You Again.


Author: Pattie


Rated: PG


Spoilers: Duane Barry, Ascension.


Categorization: Mulder/Scully friendship, X-File, Mulder POV


Summary: In the middle of a sleepless night, guilt-ridden Mulder 


agonizes over Scully's disappearance. 


Archive: Gossamer and any other nice home. I'll bring the tea, if


you let me visit.


Feedback: trish59@444.net


Disclaimer: I don't own them; CC, 1013 and Fox do. I make no money 


from this, and I mean no copyright infringement. If I DID own the 


characters, I would have given Scully her own desk a long time ago.











It's true what they say: There's no rest for the wicked. As I lay 


here on this excuse for a couch that I sleep on, I feel I have 


led you down a deadly path. Nights now are long, restless and 


meaningless.





My epitaph may as well read: "Fox Mulder led an innocent female 


F.B.I. Agent to her death." There is no solace in your mother's 


reassurances, or the sight of your cross when I look at it to find 


some focus, some hope. Sleep is a word in the dictionary, a thing 


other people do at night to regenerate themselves.





Over and over again, I go through the night Duane Barry drove 


you to your death or abduction. I don't really know for sure. 


What was I doing that was so damn important I couldn't get to you 


in time? Youbelieved you were being followed. You called.  Where 


was I? I was jogging. Jogging. Now, I run to find you. I run away 


from my past, my present and my future because things are so damn 


hard to face. So damn painful.





I couldn't save you and I couldn't save Samantha. And if I do find


either one of you, will I be forgiven? I don't know. There's a lot


of doubt in my mind. My quest fueled my spirit; gave me a sense of


purpose. Now, a quest to find you keeps me going more than anything 


else. When I find you, what will I see?





My desperate need to find the Truth, whatever that may be, has a 


price to it. I know that. I've been warned about it. I didn't 


listen. Damn me!





My search for other truths in this world has led you into dangerous


journeys. A nice walk in the woods turned you into mite munchies. 


The Arctic Volcano was a good example of my disregard for the real 


world.Larva burrowing into animals and people driving them mad. I had 


to see people sprout spores from their necks, exposing you to the 


distinct possibility you'd be the next victim. Chalk another one up 


for Spooky, advocate of the paranormal. 





Now where are you? If you are alive, I pray you're not suffering. 


If... no I won't think about it. If you could hear my silent pleas 


night after night, day after day, would you come back? I wouldn't 


blame you if you didn't. But then, you didn't run away, either.





I played around with a female involved with vampires! Yes, she saw 


that I was torn, worn, tired and worried, searching for you. I was 


weak. I needed comfort, I guess. And I feel so empty still. I feel 


as though my heart has been torn out. Last night, I wondered if I had 


ever had one. Psychotic ramblings of a sleep-deprived U.F.O. chaser. 


Good title for my autobiography, right, Scully?





I look at your file. Dana Scully has a place in the X-Files. But not 


in the file cabinet. Beside me at work. So real, so pragmatic, so 


grounded.The perfect partner for a paranoid, aliens-theory-spouting, 


selfish bum. Your glasses remind me of your clarity of vision. Not 


eye vision, but well, that which can be understood as logical, I 


guess. Your cross reminds me you have a faith, hope, promise. Such 


a promising life may still be ahead of you. I must think positively. 


You ARE hope. Young, determined and brilliant, with a glow to you.





When I find you, and I will find you, I want you alive. I want to 


tell you how much I value our partnership, our friendship, your 


presence in my life. But I can't do that if I don't find you. I would 


give anything to take your place if it meant you were safe and sound 


in your own home this second.





Tomorrow, I put on the suit, grab my bag and head out to chase down


another lead, perhaps on another road to another dead end. But 


perhaps not a dead end road this time.





When I find you, yes, when, I will sleep. Until then, as I am 


under no compunction to feel good about myself, there is no rest 


for the wicked.





How did I let go of you? I'll never let go of you again. I promise.





Pattie








END