Title: Journey: A Farewell

Author:  Gillian (cerulean_blue)

E-mail:  blue_cerulean@hotmail.com

Rating:  gentle

Keywords:  MSR

Spoilers: Post-ep: The Truth

Disclaimer:  These characters and all things
X-Files are the property of CC, 1013 and Fox.
Story created out of respect for that amazing
gift.

Story: Where they go next.  Open-ended.

Some musings: This is my farewell to fanfic.  I
have been writing for a year, and I have loved it.
But, its time to move on.  My stories, for the
most part, were fill-in-the-gap stories.  So, it
seemed right to end with a gap-filler.  And, in an
attempt to bring things full circle, I leave them
in Vancouver, where they started, and with
reference to "Which is What?" the first fanfic I
ever wrote.  I have zillions of thank yous.
First, to every person who ever sent me feedback
on my writing.  Every single one moved me.  I have
saved the 188 e-mail messages from you.  Second,
to all the great fanfic writers whose stories have
inspired and moved me: Rachel, David, Tess, Char,
Artemis, Rafferty, Paige, Gina, Susan, the IWTB
group, and many, many others.  Special thank you
to David who sent me my first ever feedback, and
because of whom I wrote a second story.  Third, to
Amy for Haven, to the Yeti, for Land of the Yeti,
to the Enigmatic Dr., to Paige for her page, and
to everyone else who ever recommended my stories
or asked to archive them.  Hugeness and
generosity.  Fourth, to friends who asked to read
and gave support, and especially those who were
critical.  I loved that you wanted to know this
piece of me and that it made you smile.  And
finally, to the actors who brought these
characters to life.  Gillian and David.  Without
their magic there would be no stories like these
ones, what an amazing, amazing gift.

So, this is it.  Good-bye to fanfic.  This journey
has brought me so much joy.  All the best to
everyone.

Journey: A Farewell
by Gillian
 

Roswell, New Mexico
May 2002

He opened his eyes.  It took a moment for him to
remember where he was.  The enormity of all that
has transpired in the past few days.  The enormity
of waking up with her.  The enormity of what the
day would hold for them.  Now.  Now that they were
both together and on the run.

He could tell she wasn't in the bed with him.  So
he sat up and tried to rub the sleep from his
eyes.  She was sitting on the door frame, with the
door wide open.  The sunlight of the bright New
Mexico morning was streaming into the room, and he
was struggling to focus.

He swung his feet onto the floor and just sat for
a moment.  Staring at the back of her head.
Staring at the extraordinary colour of her hair.
The line of her back.  He closed his eyes and for
a brief moment felt in his body what he had felt
last night.  The incredible feeling of surrounding
her with his body.  The incredible feeling of
falling asleep intertwined.

"Scully."

She turned to look at him, and he could see
instantly that she had been crying.  She was
holding something in her hands, and whatever it
was, it had caused her some pain.

He stood up and moved to where she was sitting,
draping one leg on either side of her so that she
could lean back against him.  It reminded her of
the two nights he had stayed with her before he
left.  How she would nurse William and he would
sit, one leg on either side of her, so that she
could lie back against him, and they could both
watch their son.  He ached at the memory.

"What is it, Scully?"

Scully held up a newspaper.  It had been opened to
the third page, and then folded so she could
easily read the one story that had caught her
attention.

"It's you."

Mulder looked more carefully at the paper in her
hand, and there, just below the by-line was his
photograph.

He pushed back the hair from the side of her neck,
behind her ear.  He then leant in and kissed the
side of her neck.  He wanted this moment not to be
about whatever it said in the paper.  He wanted
them just to be two people, two lovers, sitting on
a Saturday morning, reading the newspaper
together. Somewhere.

Anywhere, but here.

Scully leaned back against Mulder's touch.  His
lips on her neck moved her, and she felt him
throughout her body.  She closed her eyes, and let
out the slightest moan.

"What's it say, Scully?"

Scully opened her eyes, and ran her finger over
this image in the paper.  "It's the story of your
death, Mulder."  She breathed in deeply, and began
to read.

"It was announced today, that Special Agent Fox
Mulder of the Washington Bureau of the F.B.I. was
killed in the line of duty.  Special Agent Mulder,
aged 40, had been in New Mexico, on assignment.
He was in the process of apprehending Mr. C.G.B.
Spender, a felon who had been on the F.B.I.'s most
wanted list for events that dated back to 1947,
when he was killed by an explosion.  Details of
the explosion, are being withheld, but sources
close to the investigation revealed that Mr.
Spender also died in the explosion."  Scully
paused, and then read on.  "A female agent was
also killed.  The F.B.I. has yet to reveal her
name, pending notification of next of kin."

Mulder tightened his hold on Scully, resting his
head on her shoulder as she continued to read.

"Sources in Washington also revealed that Special
Agent Mulder had been on leave from his position
for the past year, but had been reinstated as an
Agent only hours before the events that lead to
his death.  Special Agent Mulder was predeceased
by his sister Samantha in 1979, by his father
William in 1995, and by his mother Teena in 2000."
Again Scully, breathed deeply.  "He leaves no
surviving family."

Mulder watched as Scully ran a finger-nail back
and forth over the words, "no surviving family."

He closed his eyes, and tightened his grip around
her, pulling her closer.  It was the reality of
adoption, it erased genealogical lines.  But it
would never erase the love that either of them
felt for their small son.  He felt overwhelmed by
the enormity of the decision she had made, and by
the love he felt for her.  She had done the only
possible thing to keep their son safe.

He leant in again, brushing against the soft skin
on the side of her neck, and tugging slightly
playfully at her ear.

"It would be a little more accurate if it also
noted how many times I had predeceased myself."

Scully let out a small snort of a laugh, the kind
of laugh that you resist, like when you find
something funny in church.  She rolled up the
newspaper, and then turning in his embrace,
whacked him with it, pushing him backwards at the
same time so that she was lying on his chest.  It
was now her turn to lean in, and she did, placing
one small gentle kiss on his eager lips.

Mulder smiled.  "O.K., Scully, up.  We've got to
get going."

Scully struggled to her feet, placing the
newspaper on the desk by the door. "Going, Mulder?
Going where?  Where could we possibly have to go
today?"

"Ah, my love.  That, is a secret."  Mulder smiled
even broader, looking a bit pleased with himself.

Scully stepped towards him and grasped his arm
firmly.  Her fingernails pressed into the
underside of his forearm.  "No more secrets,
Mulder.  No more surprises.  From here on out,
everything out in the open, on the level."  She
paused, and then whispered, "I'm not a footnote in
your obituary."

Mulder's eyes glistened, but he kept smiling.
"God, you're beautiful.  But, Scully, seriously,
what I have planned is just a guy taking a girl
out for a night on the town."

Scully pressed her fingernails a little firmer
into his arm.  "As long as it's this girl, and
this guy," she said, pointing exaggeratedly first
at herself and then at him, "there will be no
night out on the town, without details."

Mulder was reluctant to let this one go, but was
starting to wince slightly from the fingernail
pressure. "O.K., O.K., uncle.  You win.  I want to
take you to the Opera."

"The Opera, Mulder.  Since when have you been a
fan of the Opera?"

"Ah, ye of little faith.  The Sante Fe Opera is
the most renowned Opera in the U.S.  And the
location is breathtaking, just outside of Santa
Fe, surrounded by the most breathtaking scenery.
But first, I want to take you into Santa Fe to
find you a dress.  And then, dinner on the terrace
at La Fonda, right in the centre of town.  And,
then after the Opera I want to take you to a
special place that has the most amazing view of
the sunrise."  Mulder paused.  "It's the place
that I would go last year when I needed to think.
To think about you and William."

At the sound of William's name, Scully released
her grip on Mulder's arm.  He reached for her and
put his hand against her cheek, cupping her face
in his hand.  Would he ever get over what it felt
like to touch her?  To really touch her?

"God, I love you, Scully."

It wasn't what he had meant to say, or what she
had expected him to say.  But his whispered words
danced in the air.

"Jesus, Mulder.  All right.  A "date".  A night
out on the town.  A guy and a girl."  She smiled,
knowing that this night was likely the first of
whatever new adventure lay ahead of them.  "What
kind of dress did you have in mind?"

*****
Simon Fraser University
Vancouver, B.C.
October 2004

"Professor Calkins?  May I interrupt you for one
moment?"

The class turned and looked towards the door.
Standing there was Dr. Ritchie, the pathologist
who divided her time between work at the medical
school at the University of British Columbia, and
lectures in criminal pathology here at S.F.U.  The
rumour mill had all but confirmed that she was in
some kind of relationship with Professor Calkins,
but it was definitely a relationship that defied
all normal parameters.

Students had become fascinated with Professor
Calkins since he had arrived to teach criminology
at S.F.U. two years earlier.  His background was
law enforcement, but his teaching style was
original and challenging.  His classes were highly
attended and very engaging.  And fascination with
him personally had also been high.  He was a very
striking man, with piercing hazel eyes, and short
hair, slightly graying around the temples.   They
figured he was in his early 40s, but he looked
physically like a much younger man.  His passion
for teaching and for the subject matter, also had
evoked some passion for the details of his
personal life.  He didn't wear a wedding ring,
but, as students came to know, he was clearly
spoken for in some way or other.

Dr. Ritchie had also evoked similar intrigue from
students.  Her lectures on criminal pathology were
among the most popular at the school, and there
was some hope that she could be lured away from
the medical school across town to teach on a more
permanent basis at S.F.U.  She was a strikingly
attractive woman, with long red hair, and a
natural beauty that emanated no matter what she
was doing.

Students saw them together occasionally, out on
the town.  And, there was some speculation that
they lived together, sharing a small house on the
water in Kitsilano.  And, there was one picture in
his office, that students strained to see whenever
they went in to meet with him.  It seemed to be a
picture of the two of them taken long ago.  But,
there had been little confirmation, until now.

"Ah, the lovely and charming, Dr. Ritchie.  Do
come in.  I would imagine my students would be
much more interested in hearing from you, then the
rest of this lecture from me."  He smiled.

"Actually, Professor Calkins, I need a word with
you.  Outside.  It won't take a moment."

He half expected his students to start making some
whistling noise, but he continued to stare at her.
He glanced up at the clock.  "Fifteen minutes, Dr.
Ritchie.  Just let me finish here, and then, he
smiled knowing what his words might do to the
student rumour mill, "I'm all yours."  He then put
his head down to figure out where he was in his
notes.  When he heard words that he hadn't
expected to hear, at least not yet.

"Mulder, it's William."

He placed his pencil down on the lecturn and
stared up at her.  The look in her eyes reminded
him of the night they had stood together in her
bedroom and she had told him that she had named
their son after his father.  Clarity.  Commitment.
Loyalty.  Passion.  Love.  He nodded slowly, and
began to move towards her.  The next phase of
their journey had arrived.  He was ready.

"Class dismissed."

The End (and, we can only hope, the Beginning).
 
 

Thank you for reading.  Please read my other
stories, archived at Gossamer or at Ephemeral:

Which is What?
You are always here
4 weeks, 3 days, 7 hours
Thank you for coming back to us
I will come home, I promise
Partners in all other senses of the word
A Small, Brightly Wrapped Parcel
this place, this bed, this woman, this child
she
one lonely night
for all the times you've saved my life
They're back
again
Drive, Mulder: A Story in Four Parts
As You Wish