TITLE: Door to My Heart
AUTHOR: Gabi Fisher
SPOILER WARNING: I don't think there are any.
SUMMARY: Scully reflects over some points in her life after a devastating incident.
DISCLAIMER: No, silly. I don't own them. I'm just borrowing them. I'll consider returning them to CC when I'm done.
* * *
Rain had fallen earlier. It had stopped before I got
out here, though the ground was still saturated. With each step I took, tiny splatters of
mud covered the tips of my shoes, the light brown contrasting with the dark black. I
lightly kicked the ground and watched where the little drops of brown landed. It probably
was not good for my shoes, they were the one expensive pair I owned, but I didn't care. It
didn't matter. I'm not sure what really does matter anymore. I figured it was much better
to pay attention to the destruction of my nice, black shoes than to pay attention to what
was going on around me. Anything was easier than dealing with what I had to.
After a few kicks in the mud, I decided I needed to pay attention. Maybe this closure could end my pain. I doubted it, but anything was worth a try. I looked around. It was pathetic, how few people had bothered to show up. My mother, the Lone Gunman, Skinner, and I all stood huddled together. On the far side of the grave site stood Mrs. Mulder. I was unable to tell whether she regretted coming or not. After all, she and her son had not exactly been on good terms for the last several years. But she had come, and I suppose that's got to count for something.
I can not imagine not being so close to my mother. I'm sure I would die if I did not have my regular Sunday evening phone calls with her or my being able to pop whenever I needed to talk to her. It amazes me how Mulder was able to survive for so long like that. I made a vow to myself to never alienate my mother. I reached over and squeezed my mother's hand. She squeezed back, and looked at me. She must have thought that I was looking for support or comfort over Mulder's death and I let her think that. The pain had not yet come to me in full force. I was still trying to tell myself that it had not really happened. That he had not really killed himself. That it had not been my forceful, angry words that pushed him to do it. I knew it was all a delusion, but as others have said, at least for not, ignorance is bliss.
The rain began to fall lightly again, slowly gaining force. For a moment, I had thought it was my own tears I felt running down my face, but I realized I had not started to cry yet. I hadn't let myself. Later, I would let them fall. When I was alone. Not now, in front of all these people. I sardonically laughed at myself. Even now, when the most important person in the world was forever gone from my life, I was holding up my "Ice Queen" fašade. Even when I was surrounded only by friends and family, I was unable to show emotion. I suppose after so long, facades stop being facades and are incorporated into oneself. Maybe I really had become the Ice Queen, like my peers in the FBI thought.
I had tuned out what was being said, and before I knew it, the man speaking was finished. He asked who was going to throw the ceremonial first handful of dirt on top of the casket. I cringed inwardly before stepping forward.
The awkward, short memorial service had been closed casket, and I did not want to see the top of that coffin ever again. Its image was already permanently imprinted on my brain. I closed my eyes for a moment before proceeding to the hole in the ground. I stood, just looking down at the coffin, with silent tears running down my cheeks, mingling with the gentle rain. Finally, I reached up to my neck and removed my necklace. I threw it onto the coffin and reached down for a handful of dirt. When Mulder died, part of me went with him. Actually, most of my soul died at the time of his death. All of my hopes and dreams for the future were eradicated with Mulder's death. My faith also died a tragic death alongside Mulder. My faith in the world and the people in it. The little faith I still had in myself. Most likely, even my faith in a kind, loving God. It had even represented Mulder's faith in the long weeks when I was gone. For so long, that tiny cross had represented my faith and hope. Now that my life was devoid of both of those, I no longer felt the need to carry the small symbol around my neck. Now it was with Mulder, and the better part of me. Where it always had belonged. Emotionlessly, I threw the dirt over the shining necklace and stood back.
I stood for a while, the others keeping their distance, watching the abyss being filled with dark, ugly dirt. Both the abyss of the grave and of my heart were slowly being sealed from the world. Each shovel thrown in was one more step from the rest of the world. For both of us. Mulder and I. He is six feet under, unobtainable by any of us, and I am farther, emotionally, than I ever have been before. Mulder had been able to get into my heart, and to keep it open. Now that he was gone, the door was closed, possibly forever.
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