By: afg
siggy.63@btinternet.com
 

www.ofnoconsequence.com
Date: 8 Jun 2005
Rating: PG13 The F word is used
Category : MA, Post-col, Character deaths
(don't be too discouraged.) MSR
Summary: In a lonely world, Mulder lives with his memories.
Thanks : To Tali.
Feedback: I'd love it. siggy.63@btinternet.com
For Alan and Ali

'Talk to me of Mendocino
Closing my eyes I hear the sea
Must I wait?
Must I follow?
Won't you say, "Come with me"?'

(Lyrics by Kate McGarrigle)
 
 

"Mulder, hey Mulder." Johnny Henson's voice rang out
among the redwoods as he ran towards the small cabin.

Mulder emerged wearing a worn flannel shirt and equally
worn jeans, his hair shining silver grey in the early evening
sun and his face the color of tea and lined with years spent
outdoors. "Hi Johnny," he said, raising his hand in greeting.
"I wasn't expecting to see you today."

Johnny reached him panting a little and holding a plate on
which rested a large apple pie with a golden crust that still
steamed lightly. " My mom made some pies and she thought
you might like one."

Mulder took the plate from the boy and smiled. "That's very
nice of your mom. She makes the best apple pie this side of
the Rockies."

"Mulder, she makes the only apple pie this side of the
Rockies." Johnny grinned.

"I guess so, but it's still good. Tell her thanks, would you?"

"You bet. I'll come back and collect the plate in a couple of
days, okay?" Johnny headed back the way he had come,
turning to wave at Mulder.

"Bye, Johnny." He watched him disappear into the trees, then
took the pie indoors and set it on the slightly rickety table.
Johnny was right. This really was the only apple pie this side
of the Rockies; Mulder looked at the pie and thought that, as
a symbol of the survival of the human race, it wasn't such a
bad one. Johnny's mother had arrived a few years ago after a
long and fraught journey from San Francisco. Her husband
had been killed and she'd run as far as her car would take
her, which happened to be a few miles away from Mulder's
cabin. They'd helped each other out an a few occasions and
as Johnny grew into a young man he did the odd chore for
Mulder. There was no one else. The bees and then the Jacks
had made sure of that. The Earth had lost most of its human
inhabitants and had been left to the trees and the animals
once more. Mulder supposed that the numbers would
eventually grow again, unless something else happened to
threaten them.  As it was he didn't much care anymore. He'd
stopped caring a long time ago.

He remembered the second when it all became meaningless
to him. God knows, he'd played it in his head like an old
movie reel a thousand times over. It had happened only a few
miles away from where he was now. They'd been running
towards the truck; himself and Skinner and Scully. Their
location had been discovered and the Jacks had arrived in
force, tearing through the town of Mendocino where they'd
been hiding the last few months. It had been Skinner who had
given the Jacks their nickname. Mulder remembered
Skinner's face as he'd relayed events from a previous raid.
"Those monsters tore us apart like fucking Jack the Ripper,"
he'd said, his face white with the memory of it, and the name
had stuck.

Mulder had seen the little girl first, her blond hair bright in
the morning sunshine. The Jack had leapt out of nowhere and
picked her up in its long skeletal arms. The girl was so
frightened she couldn't even scream, at least not at first. The
Jack had seemed fascinated by her hair and it gripped the top
of her skull with one of its clawed hands. The yellow hair
started to turn red. Mulder may have seen the girl first but
Scully was closer and she ran towards the monster firing her
gun. Unfortunately, to fell one of those things you needed an
automatic rifle, not a humble handgun. Scully knew that, of
course, but she couldn't have left that little girl anymore than
he could. As it was, the girl was dead by the time Scully
reached her. Mulder tried so hard to block out those last
seconds of his life with Scully but they would come to him in
vivid Technicolor and in full Surround Sound. Jesus, the
blood and Scully's scream, "Mulder, Run!",  the wet sound
of a shredded body hitting the sidewalk and Skinner pushing
him towards the truck, shouting "Move, Mulder, just fucking
move," Skinner had sounded so frightened. After that,
Mulder would never be frightened again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He scrubbed his hands over his face, as if to wipe away the
memories. He was tired and his body ached with the weight
of the years. Sometimes, when he caught his reflection in the
small, cracked bathroom mirror, he would startle, not
recognising the old man he saw before him; this old man with
grey hair and sad, rheumy eyes.  Thirty years, he'd lived for
thirty years without her. He gave a mirthless chuckle when he
thought of how short a time he'd had her company and yet
how much she had shaped his life. Her death had ruined him.
Oh, he stilled breathed and functioned much as he always had
done but inside he was a wasteland. All these years, he'd just
been going through the motions. Despite losing Scully, the
resistance had been able to put her plan into operation. She'd
always been meticulous in everything that she'd done. Her
notes had been detailed and specific and the plan had, in the
end, gone like clockwork. The planes had been procured and
the magnetite particles had been loaded.  The plan had been
in preparation for three years and the network of people had
been in place for two. Mulder left the technical stuff to Scully
and her little band of scientists. The government eggheads
and other prominent scientists had been compromised by the
Colonists years ago; so, they'd gathered people from the
fringes of the scientific community and they had proved to be
invaluable with their off the wall ideas and lateral thinking.
The plan was to seed clouds over the whole of the US with
tiny particles of magnetite, that would send the Colonist's
instruments haywire. Not to mention, make the whole of
North America pretty much uninhabitable for them, with the
exception of the places where it didn't rain. They'd even
managed to steal a couple of planes capable of flying into the
jet stream and released tons of magnetite particles, which
would be carried around the world. It had taken a year for the
effects to be fully felt, unfortunately by that time the
population, already reduced by millions, had been decimated
by plague and the general collapse of society. The only
people left, were those who were immune to the virus carried
by the bees and in the corn products, or those who had
already made preparations for the invasion. In other words,
very few people indeed.

The groaning call of an elk startled Mulder from his reverie,
and he went over to the window to watch the slow procession
of coastal elk as they moved into the forest, their breath
misting in the early evening chill. Crossing to the coffee pot
on the stove, he poured some of the brew into a thermos. It
was time for his usual evening ritual. He shrugged on his coat
grimacing a little as a dull ache started up along his left arm.
As the days went by he found his body letting him know his
age, more and more. Opening the door he left the cabin and
set off along the path that led towards the rocky beach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The few members of the resistance that had been left were
based in Cowichan Bay in British Columbia. But, as their
numbers had dwindled, cut down by the virus, Mulder had
begun to feel restless. He'd only stayed because Skinner had
asked him too but, when his old friend succumbed to the
virus, Mulder had no reason to stay. He remembered the time
he and Scully had stayed in Mendocino and how much she
had liked living by the coast. The evenings, when they had
taken long walks among the Redwoods or along the beach,
had been some of the happiest times he had ever spent with
her. She was still there of course; her bones graced the
sidewalk of the town along with all the other former
inhabitants. He wanted to go back there, where at least he had
some connection with her. It had taken him a long time to
make the journey. Some of the roads were impassable
clogged up with abandoned cars. Rats were everywhere, rats
and carrion birds, they were the true beneficiaries of a war
that nobody won. He was amazed at how silent the world had
become. Sometimes he felt as though he was driving in a
gigantic bell jar. The lack of noise was almost suffocating
and occasionally he would have to stop the car and get out
and bend forward like a man who'd just run a marathon, to
try and catch a decent breath.  Mulder liked noise; it
distracted him from his own internal workings. Now all he
could hear were his own thoughts and they were the poorest
of company. Skinner had once told him over a bottle of
Scotch, how surprised he'd been that Mulder had not killed
himself and confessed to him drunkenly, that he and the rest
of the group had had him on a sort of unofficial suicide watch
for months after Scully had been killed. Mulder had smiled
and told Skinner that Scully would have kicked his ass if he'd
done such a thing. In truth it had been touch and go. Many a
long night, he had sat with his gun in his hand trying hard to
think of a reason to stay. He'd failed her on that last day, the
least he could do, he thought, was to tough it out until the
end. He couldn't light candles or recite a 'Hail Mary' but he
could stay alive. It was his penance.

Mulder walked along the track to the coast. He could hear the
sounds of the sea and the cry of the gulls as he neared the
beach. He'd made this walk every evening for twenty-five
years. Every evening he would walk to the beach and sit on
the sand with his back against a rock and watch the sun go
down over the horizon. Rain or shine, calm or storm he'd be
there as regular as clockwork. This evening he was finding it
particularly hard going. He couldn't seem to catch his breath
and his feet felt heavy as they trudged along the sand to his
usual resting place. He reached the big slab of rock and
gratefully sank down to the damp sand and rested his back
against its solid surface; his chest still burning from exertion.
He watched the wind skitter across the surface of the grey,
green sea and he whispered, "I'm here, Scully."

When he'd finally arrived in Mendocino he'd looked for
Scully's bones. In his mind he'd imagined them lying on the
ground mixed in with the bones of the little blond girls. He'd
envisioned them being a chalky white, stark against the grey
of the sidewalk. Reality, however, had been very different.
He'd found the place where she'd fallen, but there was
nothing. No bones or shreds of clothing, absolutely nothing
remained of her at all. He assumed that she'd been carried of
by animals; dogs maybe. After a while the empty town
started to feel oppressive so he left and discovered some
cabins nearby, that had been used by holidaymakers.  He
chose one as near to the beach as possible and settled in and
never found a reason to leave.

Mulder's hand shook as he poured himself a cup of coffee
from the thermos. As he slowly sipped at the warm liquid he
watched the colors of the sky change as the sun sank lower.
From delicate shell pinks and duck egg blues to deep
magenta and rich purple. It was a glorious sunset and to his
immense surprise Mulder found that he was crying. He
hadn't cried a single tear from the moment Scully had died.
A normally sensitive man, he had not been able to let go and
it had been a subtle form of torture for him. Now, as hot tears
streamed down his cheeks dripping off his chin to land as
dark little stains on his jacket, he felt as though a long locked
door had been opened. He threw back his head and howled
his pain at the dying rays of the sun. A sharp cramping pain
gripped him and he bent forward his fists pressed to his
breastbone. He could feel his old heart labouring and he
found himself chanting,  "Please, please, please," until he
couldn't find the breath to speak. He lifted his eyes to the
horizon as the last golden strands melted into the sea and he
didn't hurt anymore.

"Mulder, it's me."

He shot to his feet far more quickly than his age should have
allowed, and there she was, beautiful and whole and smiling
at him.

"Are you going to stand there with your mouth open or are
you going to say hello?"

"Hello," he said still staring.

"You know, Mulder, I remember you being a little more
eloquent." Scully smiled and reached out her hand.

Mulder watched as his hand reached automatically to take
hers; he suddenly noticed that his liver spots had gone and
the skin once papery and heavy veined had become the taut
flesh of his youth. He looked behind him with sudden
comprehension and there he was, slumped against the rock
his eyes still looking towards the horizon.

"I'm dead."

"I see those razor sharp skills of deduction haven't deserted
you, Mulder."

Scully's hand felt soft and warm in his. He drew her to him
and took her face in his big hands and kissed her. It was a
kiss that held the pain and loss of thirty years without her, she
held him tight in her strong arms and he felt as though all the
layers of guilt and hurt had been peeled from him. He felt
healed. After what might have been an eternity they parted
and just spent a while looking at each other.  Scully surprised
him by suddenly reaching round and pinching his ass.

"You took your own sweet time, Mulder," she looked a little
indignant

"What can I say? I have good genes." He grinned at her
feeling as though he could do anything. "Scully, I feel
fantastic."

"I know, just wait until you find out what you can do."

"What? Tell me?"

Scully laughed.and slipped her arm around his waist. "Later,
Mulder, we have plenty of time. Frohike mentioned
something about going out for cheese steaks."

"Frohike? He's here?"

"Everybody's here, Mulder. We've been waiting for you."

They started walking along the beach, their arms around each
other.

"Cheese steaks, Scully? I though you didn't approve of
those."

"Well, my attitude to cholesterol has mellowed somewhat. I
mean, it's not as if they 're going to kill you."

The night breezes carried the sound of their laughter over the
sand and the ocean and on to forever.

 
The end

End Notes

The science in this story is complete tosh. I did however,
check with a real mineralogist about the cloud seeding with
magnetite particles and was told that it would be quite
feasible. My thanks go to him and to the nice people at Ask
A Mineralogist.

afg