By Julie Cantrell
xfsista@hotmail.com
 

Rating:        PG (for a couple objectionable words).
Category:      V / A
Spoilers:      "Closure"
Keywords:      Implied M/S DAL
Summary:       The case is closed.  What's left for
               Mulder?  Post-ep for "Closure", Mulder
               POV. (Written based on spoilers prior
               to the airing of the ep).
Feedback:      xfsista@hotmail.com accepts it heartily!
Archive:       DO NOT ARCHIVE at Gossamer (I've already done
               that).  Xemplary and Spooky Awards are okay.
               All others just ask.
Disclaimers:   All of the following characters belong to
               Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Twentieth
               Century Fox Television.  No infringement is
               intended.

All of my stories can be found @ the FBI (aka The Federal
Bureau of Imagination) http://fbimagination.faithweb.com/
along with my growing collection of XF collages.

Huge thanks to Char Chaffin, author and beta extraordianaire,
for her help and encouragement.  I couldn't do this without
you.

More dedications and notes at the end! :)

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

For the Rest of His Life
by Julie Cantrell

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
 

She's dead.

There was nothing else left to say.

He stared at his report expecting enlightenment.
Maybe just a feeling in his gut to say that the
words he typed were wrong.

All he received were the words "X-file #98-785749
is officially closed" and a cursor blinking at him
angrily for accepting his sister's death.

It was over.

He had found his Holy Grail only to learn that
someone else had found it before he had even
discovered its existence.

He wanted to be angry.  Angry at Samantha for
having the gall to die before he found her.  Angry
at his mother for taking her own life and leaving
him to deal with it alone.  Angry at his father for
choosing his sister over him.  Angry at the Smoker
for the lies.

But in reality, he was angry at himself for wanting
it to be over with.  He had accepted the fact that his
sister was never coming back all too easily and it
hurt like hell.

The cursor continued to blink at him irritatingly.
He sighed and swiveled his chair toward the wall.

I WANT TO BELIEVE.

The bold letters pounded on his already tender psyche,
taunting him relentlessly.

Believe in what?  What was Samantha?  Yes, she was his
sister, but if she had lived, what would she have
become?  Would he have even known her if he passed her
on the street.  During his search for her, he had liked
to believe that he would know her anywhere.  He liked to
believe that she would be grateful to him for dedicating
his life to her.

Would she have been grateful?

It scared him to realize that somewhere along the way,
his sister had become less of a person and more of an
idea.  He only had recollections of an eight year old
girl.  His ideal sister was always a child in his mind.

His mind, his life.  They had become nothing but a shamble.
His life's pursuit no longer existed.  He'd given up
happiness and creature comforts for an idea that would
never become a reality.

Look at him.  No wife.  No family.  A cold, empty apartment
that was as comforting as any of the ratty motels across the
country.  It was really just a place where he slept when he
was in D.C.  It wasn't a home.  It never would be.

He suddenly felt empty and alone.  He was so damn tired.
Tired of the chase.  Tired of searching for elusive truths.
Tired of waking up in the middle of the night and realizing
that his sister was dead.

Dead.  Dead.  Dead.

But at least, no one could hurt her now.

It wasn't the truth he wanted to hear, but it was oddly
comforting to know that she could no longer be preyed upon
by the evil injustices of the world.

God, what a waste of a life.

Strangely, he understood that he wasn't talking about
Samantha's life, but his own.  The years were gone and
could never be replaced.

His eyes strayed to the poster once more.  The UFO
hanging among the trees.  Hanging out of reach, just
like the truth.

Nothing.  He had nothing to show for his life.

He suddenly leaped from his chair and ripped the poster
down, tearing it into a thousand shreds.

No more!

He wasn't going to let the truth keep him from living.
He would have a home, a career, and goddamn it, if
he wanted, he'd even get a dog.

And most of all, he wasn't going to let his truth hurt
Scully anymore.

Scully.

It was the thing that made him most angry.

His beloved partner and friend had suffered
more from his quest than he had himself.
She lost her chance of a family, a social
life, and a career.  She risked her life
and reputation for his sake on more occasions
than he'd care to count.

If he deserved a chance at happiness, then she
did too, only more so.  She deserved not only
a home and a family, but she should have
the fairy tale.  Not just the little things, but
the pot of gold, too.

She deserved happiness and so much more.

He fell heavily into his chair.  Pieces of the
ripped up poster were scattered around him.  He
wanted to kick and scream, cry and tear the world
to shreds.

It wasn't fair.  It wasn't supposed to end this
way.  It was supposed to end happily ever after
with his sister returned *alive* and Scully at
his side.

But, it wasn't to be.

Samantha was dead.

She was never coming back.

Never.

And Scully, his dear, dear Scully, was going to
be separated from him. She didn't know it, yet,
but he had decided that it was best that way.

"But you need her," his selfish side argued
vehemently.

"My need isn't worth her life," he told himself.

"You'll never survive without Scully."  He was
becoming bitchy now.

"No shit."

Had his mood been better, he would have laughed
at his ability to be a smart ass even to himself.
But his mood was melancholy and he didn't quite
feel like laughing.

He might never laugh again.

His life was over.

A middle aged man with nothing.

Click.  Clack.  Click.  Clack.

The steady cadence of Scully's heels reverberated
throughout the basement corridor.  Each step
bounced off the walls announcing her presence.

Click.  Clack.  Click.  Clack.

Then, a moment of silence.

The knob turned and the door slowly squeaked open.
Scully stood in the doorway and looked at her partner
of seven years.  She offered a small wordless smile.

It was a tender reminder to Mulder.  Her eyes told
him that he wasn't alone, that she was there.  He
did have a home, as long as they were together.
She sent waves of love through those eyes.  She let
him know that it was okay to be angry and to be sad,
but not to let them consume him.

Mostly, though, she told him that the search wasn't
over.  Not as long as there were other truths to be
told.  Other lives to be saved.  Other hearts to mend.

His fight had become hers, too.

And, she needed him as much as he needed her.

As he gazed into her eyes and tried to draw warmth
from her smile, he found the courage to smile back.

He saved his report and hit the print button using
his mouse.  Once it was finished, he grabbed the
printout and slipped his jacket on.

Side by side, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully walked to
the Assistant Director's office.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder looked at his
pretty partner.

Had Samantha never disappeared, he would never
have known this incredible woman called Scully.

He cautiously slipped an arm around her shoulders
and pulled her into a hug.  She returned the hug
with all of her strength.

He took and deep breath as they pulled back from one
another.  This time, her eyes flashed something he
had almost forgot about.

Hope.

Without the promise of finding his sister alive and
well, he had forgotten hope.

But, Scully reminded him.

Maybe the rest of his life wouldn't be so bad after all.
 

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

In addition to Char, I need to thank Amy for seeing
past disagreements and giving her opinion.  Not
everyone could have done that.  Thanks for the
encouragement.

Also, this is dedicated to my Sunday Night Chat gang:
Arial, Amber, Misch, and my XF sista, Leigh!  Thanks
for helping me unravel the mystery every week!

Last, but not least, Spookyteacher.  The most loyal
of friends.  Gals like you don't come along every
day.  I'm glad you are my friend.

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

Author's Notes: (written prior to "Closure" airing)

There's really not much to say about this piece.  It's
just a little introspection into Mulder's tattered
emotional state post-Samantha.

I had been avoiding spoilers, but the pull of knowing
the truth about what happened to Samantha was too
much for me to resist.

Once I read them, I was a little shocked and a little
grief stricken.  Yeah, I know that she's a fictional
character, but after watching Mulder search for so
many years, the answer was just too bittersweet.  I
couldn't even begin to imagine what Mulder's emotional
state would be.  I couldn't get it off my mind, so this
little story serves as a way for me to figure it out
as much as I can.

Please, let me know what you think (xfsista@hotmail.com).
Was it on target or not?  I'd really like to know.

Thanks! :)

Author's Notes, Part Two:  (after "Closure")

Wow!  Powerful episode, folks.  The only thing I can
add is that despite Mulder's relief at his search
being over, he still has a lot of grieving to do.

I hope this piece shows that!  :)

Written February 10 - 11, 2000.

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
 
 
 
 
 

A Good Soldier

Julie Cantrell
xfsista@hotmail.com
 

Rating: PG
Category: V
Spoilers: Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man (kind of)
Keywords: None
Summary:  Life doesn't always end up like you planned.
Feedback:  PLEASE!  I live for feedback!  Please send comments to me at
xfsista@hotmail.com
Archive:  I'd be honored, just ask first.  DO NOT ARCHIVE at Gossamer
(I've already done that).
Disclaimers:   All of the following characters belong to Chris Carter,
1013 Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox Television.  No infringement
is intended.
Visit http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dungeon/3881/ to see the image that
goes along with this story (click on fanfic button).

******************
A Good Soldier
by Julie Cantrell
******************

A good soldier.

That's all I ever wanted to be.

As a young man, I had planned on being a career soldier.  I wanted to
faithfully serve my country.  I wanted to honor and protect.

It's funny how things never go as you planned.

I was a good soldier.  Too good.

I was recruited to serve my country in another way.

There would be no medals or commendations.  There would be no honor or
glory.  There would be no parades or political aspirations.

There would only be the gratification of knowing that I was a part of
something much bigger.

Unfortunately, being part of something so big meant that I had to be lonely.

I learned early on that it was best not to care for people.  Loved ones can
be used against you.

Good soldiers must be willing to overcome their personal feelings for the
sake of their country.

I remember my friend, Bill Mulder.

We had met as young men.  Bill was another good soldier.

At first, I was terribly jealous of Bill.  He had a beautiful wife and a
family.

I had the misfortune of falling in love with his wife.

I quickly found out that she was something I could never have.

I was deeply hurt, but I was also a good soldier.

Bill Mulder's career as a good soldier faltered.  He grew a conscience.
They used his family against him.  I helped them do it.

Today, Bill Mulder lies six feet under.  My envy of him was short lived.

There's no room for jealousy in the life of a good soldier.

I had the misfortune of falling in love again several years later.  A son
was born from our union.

I knew I had to keep my distance.  I didn't want to face the same fate as
my dear old friend, Bill.

Loved ones can be used against you.

I should know.  I've used the method myself.

My son is a grown man now.

They won't use him against me because of my intentions of molding him into
a good soldier, too.

Almost anyone can be a good soldier.

Almost.

There are those who are weak minded and are driven by emotions that could
never be good soldiers.

But that doesn't mean they can't play the game.

On the contrary, the emotional are the ones you fear the most for they never
give up.  Of course, their emotions can be played against them.

I am not an evil man.

I've killed men.

I've kept secrets from my own children.

I've blackmailed.

I've stolen the memories of the innocent.

But, these things were necessary.

In order for life on this planet to continue, men had to be killed, secrets
had to kept, blackmail had to take place, and memories had to be stolen.

There are those who think that I'm the devil incarnate.  Perhaps that
comparison isn't too far off.  If the general population knew of the things
I know, all hell would break loose.  So, as the devil, I'm holding
hell back.

All in a day's work for a good soldier.

But for all my sins, my sacrifices have been greater.

I have no wife.

I have no power.

My children do not know me and I do not know them.

My life has been far from happy.

I'm a lonely man.

But, these things were also necessary.  There can't be any complications
for a good soldier.

After all, that's all I ever wanted to be.

A good soldier.

******************

Dedicated to Ashlea Ensro, whose fascination with 'Ciggy' fascinates me!
Go have a milkshake, Ash! ;-)

Author's notes:  This is my third attempt at fanfic (second solo attempt).
I was thinking about 'Musings of a CSM' and how it portrayed CSM as a
person with feelings as opposed to the perennial bad guy we love to hate.
The idea sort of struck me as to what kind of person would do some of the
things he has done and be able to live with himself.  It occured to me that
he must have to sort of 'turn off' those feelings much like a soldier in
battle.  A soldier must think of survival and must believe that what they
are doing is right, which would be difficult for anyone, but in order to
fend off nightmares, it would almost have to be done.

I intentionally left the CSM/Samantha/Mulder paternity issue ambiguous.
I honestly don't know what to think about that.

I'd imagine that the inside of CSM's head is an interesting, if frightening,
place to be.  I hope that I touched on that a little.

Please (I'm beggin' here) tell me what you think.  Honesty is greatly
appreciated.  All feedback can be sent to xfsista@hotmail.com and if
interested, visit http://fbimagination.faithweb.com/.