Prologue:

ìÖ..not the last.î

ìÖ..Not the last.î

Skinnerís words echo in her head.  And with his words come the
vision of the coffin deep in the ground.  Is she really
standing here?  Is this really happening?

Itís done.  Itís over.

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It took two weeks for the numbing effect of grief to replace the constant
tears that appeared with little prompting.  It really wasnít fair to her new
partner to have a weeping, pregnant woman cluttering up the office, so she
took off for two weeks, and just slept.  Now, facing the office door, Scully
straightened her face and prepared for the rest of her life.

Agent Doggett was studying a photograph when she walked through the door.
Truthfully, he hadnít expected her back today, and was surprised to see her,
a wisp of a smile on her face, as she surveyed the familiar office.

It was a good day today, he thought.

She thought so, too.  There is comfort in familiarity.  There is comfort in
being able to so accurately picture someone in his habitat.  The foxís lair
had remained the same, and Mulder was still a presence here.  Yes, it was a
good day.

Until she looked up.  What reason was there to look up? she thought as the
panic she felt took over.  She was going to cry.  In Mulderís office with
her partner watching warily.  Oh shitÖohshit..ohshitÖBut because human
nature is what it is, Scully had to see if the reason was still there, so
she looked up again.  In the ceiling, in a dark corner, was a pencil
sticking out.  The urge to climb on the nearest chair and pluck the pencil
out was almost too great.  Knowing that the last thing to have touched the
pencil edge was Mulderís hand as he tossed it up there.  Her mind chanted,
ìOhshitÖohshitÖhow corny can you get?î

xxxxx
The night brought the sadness, but also, surprisingly, the tender moments,
vividly into her mind.  Soft kisses and loving words vie for attention with
the empty bed and the silent telephone. Sometimes the cold side of the bed
would dig a hole in her heart.  Sometimes the darkness would bring the scent
of aftershave and lovemaking.

Itís raining tonight.  The flashes of lightening and the rumble of thunder
wake her.  The lightening flashes and her eyes involuntarily turn toward the
window.

She sees him.

He is looking at her with a pleading expression, but doesnít move.  He makes
no motion, no sound, but wears the mournful look of someone in need.
Scullyís eyes burn with the effort to keep from blinking.  She knows that if
her eyes close, even for a moment, heíll be gone.  Then the lightening
flashes and her eyes slam shut.  She doesnít open them until the next
morning, even though she remains awake most of the night.  Half out of fear,
half out of sorrow, she keeps them closed.  Scully knows that looking into
the face of an angel can burn your eyes.

xxxxx
 

Bubbles.

Thatís what the first stirring of life feels like.  Scully spreads her hands
across her abdomen and is amazed.  For the first time, she can hear
Skinnerís words, ìÖnot the last.î and feel joy.  Oh Mulder, she thinks.
Will he wear your smile?  Will I see you in his eyes?   Will the door to
your grave open just a bit when heís born, so I can see you again?  Sheís
content to sit and feel the bubbles because now she knows that Mulderís
beautiful mind has not been lost.

xxxxx

Itís a bad day.

Sheís prayed every day for a miracle.  Now, she prays just for the strength
to go on and for Godís help in accepting His will.  Scully prays for peace
for her soul and wants desperately to stop hating.   Sometimes the hate is
overwhelming.  She hates the people responsible for taking him away.  She
hates them for torturing him.  She hates them for murdering him.  She hates.

But more than that, she hates them for taking away the sound of his voice.
Todayís a bad day because she realized that sheíd forgotten what his voice
sounded like.  The tone, the timber, and the inflection of his voice are
lost to her.   Maybe sheíll have her son call her ìScullyî just so she can
hear his voice say her name once again.

xxxxx
 

Time drags by, the baby fidgets and grows, causing her wardrobe to change.
Scully cries less often now.  Skinner is kind and attentive, and this makes
her feel guilty.  There was a time where she didnít trust him, and told
Mulder so. How can Skinner treat her so kindly?   Doesnít he know she
doesnít deserve it?  She doesnít deserve kindness from anyone because today,
Scully is jealous of a dead woman.  Not only that, for the first time in her
life, she wished the cancer took her life years ago.  Even as she thinks
this, she strokes her unborn child and apologizes to him for these thoughts.
  Tears drip unchecked down her face as she thinks, ìWas Diana waiting for
him?  Was she there to take his hand and walk with him into the good night?
It should have me waiting for him, to make his passing safe and without
fear.  I should have been the one waiting to greet him for the rest of
eternityÖî She thinks that if the cancer ended her life, she would be happy
right now.  The rest of the night is spent with tears and apologies.

xxxxx

A casefile demands her attention because her partner has asked for some
forensic clarification.  Agent Doggett is very caring and concerned, but
gives her all the space she needs.  He seems to have a sixth sense about
what sheís going through, and the fact that heís suffered a loss makes his
concern bearable.  He has the radio on low in the corner and soft music
floats through the office.  Billy Joelís version of ìOnly the Good Die
Youngî whispers by her.  Scullyís surprised by the smile that suddenly comes
to her lips.  Sheís equally surprised when a soft giggle works itís way up.
Her partner looks up at her quizzically, an unspoken question in his eyes.
Her eyes shine when she says that itís just that sheís been worrying about
how Mulder was handling heaven and the afterlife.  This song just made her
realize that heís laughing with the sinners rather than crying with the
saintsóthe sinners are much more fun.  And to her surprise, Doggett chuckles
with her.

xxxxx
 

More and more, Scully realizes she can look back on Mulderís memory and
smile.  ìÖNice piece of ash.î  Hey, not just ìniceî but damn fine ìashî and
damn fine lovemaking that night, even if we got to home base pretty quickly.
  Jade Blue Afterglow?  Testosterone overload for Mulder makes for one happy
Scully.  Sitting on the leather couch drinking beer, eating unbuttered
popcorn and wrapped up like little baby cats.

The rain is pounding the windows again, but Scully isnít looking for ghosts
this time.  Her heaviness makes it hard to sleep soundly, so she lights some
candles, curls up with a cup of tea and listens to soft classical music.
Even though sheís not convinced that classical music has any effect on
unborn babies, she figures that it couldnít hurt.  Her mind mentally
calculates the time.  ìThree months.î she says softly to herself.   And to
the air around her she says, ìItís been three months, Mulder.  Three dead
months.î  Scully strokes her pregnant womb as she continues, ìOh Mulder,
life without you is so hard.  My God, so hard.  I miss you more than I ever
thought I could miss anyone.  Youíre in my thoughts every day and in my
heart every night, butÖî she stands and begins to snuff the candles.  ì I
finally think Iíll be able to go on from here.  For the first time since
youÖ.. left, I see a soft light at the end of a very long tunnel.î  She
turns the music off, kisses the palm of her hand and holds it out saying
softly, ìGood night, Mulder.î

The phone rings.

END

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