DISCLAIMERS: Huh? What?


SPOILERS: One Breath; set shortly after Scully returns 


CATEGORY: S/A, no Keywords apply here


RATING: PG-13 for profanity


SUMMARY: Before he found her ova, before he was dying of a brain 


disease, there was another secret that Mulder kept from Scully. 


She's about to find out what it is.





Hugs and kisses to Kes for the beta and for putting up with my 


nagging. ;)





Feedback makes me giggle like a schoolgirl: jenbird@earthlink.net








SET IN STONE


By: Jennifer Maurer








Her voice on the phone turns my stomach to ice.





"Mulder, it's me."





"Scully? What's wrong?"





"Where are you now?"





"Um, I was on my way to see the Lone Gunmen."





"I'm at my mother's house. Can you come over? Right now?"





"Of course. Scully, what is it?"





"Just come over. Do you know where she lives?"





"Yes. Are you sure you're---"





Scully hangs up on me in mid sentence. I grab my coat and keys, 


and I'm out the door. Going down in the elevator, I take deep 


breaths in a futile attempt to calm myself. She said she was 


fine, she sounded fine, she is fine. 





Unless she was being forced to tell me that by someone...





The thought starts my heart racing again, and I make it to Mrs. 


Scully's house in record time.





Scully's car is in the driveway. I pull in behind her and run up 


the path. I lift my hand to knock but the door opens before I 


have a chance.





"Scully, what are you doing here? What's going on?"





"Come in," is all the reply I get as she grabs my sleeve and 


pulls me inside. She's white as a sheet, and some papers are 


clenched in one fist. I follow her silently through the foyer and 


into the living room. She perches tensely on the edge of the 


couch, and I sit down in the closest chair. 





"I was here...my mom asked me to water her plants and bring in 


the mail while she was gone."





I nod, unsure where she's going with this.





"I don't usually open her mail, of course. I just leave it on the 


table. But this...I saw the return address on the envelope and 


couldn't imagine what...so I opened it."





This must be the papers in her hand. I reach out and gently lay 


my hand over her tightly clenched fist.





"I couldn't...Mulder, what is this?" she quavers, thrusting the 


paper at me. I smooth it out on my knees.





Stuard Memorials. Invoice. Oh, fuck.





"Is this for a tombstone? Why is my name on it?" she asks, her 


voice rising until it cracks. 





"Scully, I..."





"That's what it is, isn't it? My mother ordered a tombstone for 


me! Isn't that what this says? Mulder? This is a bill for my 


grave!"





Scully rises, then paces back and forth in choppy little steps. I 


stand and put my hands on her shoulders. Her eyes are full of 


tears, and she's shaking like a leaf.





"Oh my God, Mulder, how could my mother do this?"





"Scully, you have to try and understand. Your mom...she 


thought...."





"What?! She thought what? That I was dead! I was lying in that 


hospital! You were there; *you* refused to give up on me, and she 


was out shopping for a tombstone for me!"





"No, it wasn't like that. Your mom did this before we found 


you...she told me---"





Scully leaps backward, away from my hands.





"How do you know when she ordered this? How do you know? Were you 


there, Mulder? *Were* you?"





I gulp. Then nod. Scully's eyes are blazing with anger. I've 


never been more frightened of her.





"You two...you both..." she runs out of words and just glares at 


me for a moment, then snatches the papers out of my hand. 





"Did you go Dutch, split the cost?" she says viciously, shredding 


the papers and throwing the scraps back at me. 





"No! Scully, listen to me. You mom told me that story about you 


shooting the snake with your brothers, and---"





"What the hell does that have to do with anything? She gave up. 


She GAVE UP! You left me for dead! All of you!"





"We didn't! I didn't! I never stopped looking for you, and when 


you came back I never gave up; I knew you weren't ready to go..."





"Fuck you!" she screams. "Fuck you, Mulder!"





She pushes past me and rips open the door. I'm right behind her; 


I try to touch her arm, but she flings off my hand. 





"You stay away from me," she says in a low, shaky voice. "Just 


stay away from me, Mulder. I *trusted* you."





Her last sentence, and all that it implies, strikes me to the 


heart. I can only stand there as Scully stalks across the lawn 


and disappears around the corner.





Every instinct I possess shrieks at me to run after her, bring 


her back to this house, keep her safe. I've had a hard enough 


time letting Scully be alone since she came back, and that 


feeling is now magnified to an almost unbearable level. Deep down 


inside, however, I know that I need to let her go for awhile, let 


her be alone to try and process this. I boxed her car into the 


driveway, and she can't go all that far on foot. Eventually 


she'll have to come back here, and I'll be waiting.





I lower myself to sit on the top step, letting the early December 


chill sink into me. I lean my face in my hands, elbows on my 


knees, and replay the scene over and over in my head. There must 


have been something I could have said or done differently that 


would have prevented Scully from getting so upset, feeling so 


betrayed. Images of Scully, her mother, and that damn tombstone 


swirl in my mind and eventually blend with images of Samantha's 


disappearance, and a stone with her name etched on it.  Slow, hot 


tears seep through my fingers.





I'm so absorbed in my own thoughts that I don't hear Scully's 


footsteps on the walk.





"You're still here," she says hoarsely.





I look up at her, hastily wiping my tears away. Her eyes and the 


tip of her nose are red; when she sees that I've been crying, 


too, her face crumples. She starts sobbing softly.





I may not have the words to make this better, to ease her pain, 


but I can try to be there for her in other ways. Silently, I hold 


out my arms to her. Scully climbs the steps and sits down next to 


me, burying her head in my shoulder. I put my arms around her and 


rock her gently back and forth as she cries. Tears start running 


down my face to land in her hair. We stay like that for a long 


time, crying and holding each other, finally grieving together 


for all that has been lost.





When her tears stop, Scully gently pulls out of my embrace, 


wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She sighs sadly as I rub my own 


face.





"Let's go inside," she says. "I'm freezing."





Once in, Scully heads for the kitchen.





"I'm going to make some hot tea. Do you want some, Mulder?"





I nod.





"The bathroom's down the hall on your left, if you want to go 


splash some water on your face," she says. 





I understand that she wants me to go do just that, while she 


collects herself privately in the kitchen. 





When I come back, two mugs sit on the kitchen table, and the 


kettle is just starting to steam. I watch as Scully carefully 


pours water into the mugs, sets the kettle back on the stove, and 


sits down opposite me at the table. There is a long moment of 


silence, then Scully reaches out and touches my hand. She 


squeezes it briefly before curling her hands around her cup. I 


take this gesture to mean that things will be all right between 


us.





"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks in a quiet tone. 





"I didn't know how. I forgot about it for awhile, when we first 


had you back. That was all that mattered. When I did think of it, 


later, there wasn't any good way to bring it up, and I didn't 


even see a reason to. I can't speak for your mom, but I assume 


she felt the same way. You were home recovering. Why should I 


have added that to your burdens, Scully? Is it really something 


you *needed* to know?"





"Maybe not," she admits, "But you should have told me anyway. At 


least, I think so. Mulder, I'm not sure how I feel about this, 


actually. I never imagined that my mother would...and when you 


told me you'd been there, I felt so betrayed that you had kept 


this from me."





"It was the day before you showed up at this hospital," I tell 


her, "Your mom called me and asked me to see the stone. I didn't 


want to go. I didn't want to see it. I told her it was too soon. 


She told me that story about the snake...how you held it, wanting 


to keep it alive even as it died in your hands, and knowing there 


was nothing you could do. She said she knew then how you'd felt."





"I still don't understand what brought her to such a decision."





"To be honest with you, Scully, I didn't either. I'm still not 


sure I do. I understood what she was trying to tell me: she felt 


that you were gone, even as she wanted more than anything for you 


to come home. She needed closure, I guess."





Scully nods, taking all this in for a moment. She stares into her 


cup, not meeting my eyes.





"Mulder, did I ever tell you that my father died in this house?"





"Um, no. No, you didn't."





"You know he had a heart attack. He got up in the middle of the 


night and just collapsed. My mother awoke hearing him cry for 


her. He kept trying to get up, saying, 'Help me, Maggie. Help 


me.' His heart stopped before the ambulance could get here. My 


mother was trying to revive him when the paramedics arrived. They 


worked on him for another 30 minutes before they took him to the 


hospital, while my mother stood there, watching. They did 


eventually get his heart started again, but he was brain dead by 


then, of course. They hooked him up to a respirator...my mother 


called me and I went over to the hospital. She wouldn't let them 


turn off the machine until I saw him, until *I* could tell her 


that there was no hope. All that time, she'd been praying for a 


miracle. Waiting for my father to wake up, and come back to her."





I swallow the lump in my throat as Scully raises her head and 


looks at me. She wipes away her tears.





"I think of that," she continues, "And I suppose I can understand 


my mother's need for closure. I just wish...it had been for some 


other reason. Not my life."





"Scully, she never gave up all hope. She kept me going when I was 


ready to eat my gun...she was so strong. You need to know that. I 


tried to give her your cross but she gave it back to me, told me 


to give it to you when I found you. Then months went by...I had 


nothing to give her. No news of you."





"I understand. I do. I probably would have felt the same way in 


that situation. It's just that seeing evidence of it, like that 


invoice...most of the time I can forget what happened to me. 


Well, not forget, but it's not at the forefront of my mind. 


Sometimes it almost seems like a bad dream. But this is 


proof...that it wasn't. I was taken. I almost died."





"But you're okay now," I reassure her.





"I'm okay now," she repeats, as if trying to convince us both.





Neither of us speaks for awhile, the only sounds in the room an 


occasional sniffle and sip of tea. Scully presses her lips 


together tightly in a way that I know means she's bracing herself 


to say something that's difficult for her. I try to ready myself 


to hear what she has to say, but she still takes me completely by 


surprise.





"Mulder? What did it look like?"





"I...what?"





"I want to know what the stone looked like."





"I don't remember," I say too quickly. It's a poor lie, and she 


catches me in it with no trouble.





"You do," she insists quietly. "Please tell me."





"Why, Scully? What good will it do you to know?"





"I don't know," she admits. "Probably none. I just need to know."





I sigh and close my eyes, feeling I'm back in that room with 


Scully's mother. I had been up all night before she called me, 


and I was so tired that everything around me seemed a bit unreal. 


Colors were too bright. Mrs. Scully's voice didn't sound quite 


right to my ears. I walked up to the counter with her, watched 


the man fold back the paper...





"It was gray. Granite, I guess, or marble. Flat, the kind that's 


set flush in the ground. There was a cross in the upper left 


corner---it came about half way down the left side. At the top it 


said 'Dana Katherine Scully.'" I gesture with my hands to 


indicate her given names above her last. "And under that your 


dates. '1964-1994.' Then it said, 'Loving daughter and friend.' I 


wondered if your mother added 'friend' for my benefit. At the 


bottom, it said, 'The Spirit is the Truth.'"





"First John, 5:7," she says softly. I nod.





"Where is it now?" she asks me.





"I don't know, and I don't care. It doesn't matter, Scully. In 


all the excitement of having you back, I guess your mom forgot to 


tell the guy that---"





"---that I didn't die," she finishes.





"That you're alive," I correct her. "You're *alive*." It's a 


small difference, but an important one. Scully takes a deep 


breath, then nods that she understands and agrees with me. 





"Someone will tell him that the stone's not needed, and he'll 


destroy it. You don't need to see it, Scully," I warn her, 


anticipating what she's thinking. "And I won't let you."





I would normally get a scathing look at such presumptuousness, 


but Scully only nods again. I think she knows that I have her 


best interests at heart, that I'm trying to protect her from her 


own curiosity, whatever the reasons behind it.





"Mulder, can I ask you something?"





"You know you can. Anything."





"Did something like this ever come up with...?" she can't finish 


the sentence, but she doesn't have to.





"Samantha? Yes. When my grandfather died, six years after Sam 


disappeared, my mom's sister suggested having her name put on the 


stone with his. It was a family plot, my mother's family. My 


mother got hysterical at the suggestion. She couldn't bear the 


idea that Sam would never come home. My father had nothing to 


say; he just got drunk, as usual."





"What did you do?"





"I hid upstairs and listened to them argue about it. I hated the 


idea, but I knew no one would ask me what I thought."





"Mulder, I'm sorry," she says, reaching across the table to take 


my hands in hers. "For all of it. I need to talk to my mom about 


this, and I will, but I shouldn't have accused you of betraying 


me."





"You have nothing to be sorry for. I hope you know I didn't keep 


this from you to hurt you."





"I know that. I also know that it was your belief in me that 


helped me come back. I told you that, and I meant it. I couldn't 


have done it alone."





"You'll never have to, Scully," I promise her, and seal my words 


with a light kiss on the back of each hand holding my own. 








*~End~*





AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yeah, I know it was almost ten years ago (yikes!) 


but I still wonder: whatever possessed Mrs. Scully to buy a 


tombstone for her daughter? After only three months missing? That 


snake story didn't explain anything! Hope I did a better job. Let 


me know: <jenbird@earthlink.net>