By Jean Helms
jeanlhelms@yahoo.com
 

SUMMARY: Sad thoughts on New Year's Eve.
ARCHIVE: Gossamer, yes. Enigmatic Dr., yes. All others, please
ask.
CATEGORY: VRA, M/S UST
SPOILERS: "Millennium"
RATED: G
FEEDBACK: Feedback is nice.
DISCLAIMER: Characters from "The X Files" are the property of
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or Fox Television. No copyright
infringement is intended, and this work is being distributed
free.
THANKS to linc, who beta'd this so long ago she's probably
forgotten it -- but I never will. She is a true friend and a wonderful
beta.
 

"The Valor of Her Mind"
by Jean Helms

It began while she was thinking about the music.

It hadn't started playing yet, but it would, and she knew it, and
knowing it, began to hear the song in her head long before the
giant silver ball started its slow descent toward Times Square.

Maybe it was because she was tired; she would have said dead
tired, but under the circumstances that struck her as just a bit
too apt. Still, as she stood in the hospital lobby watching the
televised merriment, she became aware that her daydreaming had
taken on some of the aspects of a real dream.

She was literally almost asleep on her feet.

Perhaps that was why her eyes softened and she smiled as she
daydreamed, as she spun dreams of kinder days and a comfortable
home, of a world where everything was known and certain and her
faith in God, her country and her family was firm and
unshakeable.

Strange, how a few simple tones, a single song, could awaken so
many memories, trigger so many feelings. Each time she heard it,
it built on the emotional resonance of every time she'd heard it
before, until there was a lifetime of emotion, a tidal wave of
feeling, in just those first few notes.

Not all songs could do that to her; just a few special ones.
"Silent Night," sung without accompaniment on Christmas Eve after
midnight Mass, the church lit by candles, the stained glass lit
by the streetlights outside ... "The Star-Spangled Banner"
playing as the fireworks lit up the sky like magic and the flag
waved proudly from the bandstand ... "Anchors Aweigh," playing
like a benediction as her father shipped out for another months-
long absence, her heart breaking again and again at the words
"until we meet again."

And tonight, it was this song, the only song this holiday could
really boast: "Auld Lang Syne."

It always got to her. Scully was a Celt to her bones, and
sentimental in a way she preferred not to reveal to many people,
and Auld Lang Syne was a Celtic song, a Scottish song, a song of
passing time, of loved ones and friends passed beyond recall, and
a fearful song with its hints of the unknown future, the new
year.

Sometimes, it seemed to her that to have an innocent baby
represent the new year was ludicrous; the new year should be a
terrifying shrouded figure with skeletal hands, like the Ghost of
Christmas Yet to Come.

No. That was the Grim Reaper, not the Ghost, wasn't it? He came
just after midnight on New Year's Day, too; six years ago, it
was. Six years, and still she couldn't believe she had seen her
father in the moments after his death just as surely as she still
could not believe he was gone. His death had turned so much of
her certainty about the world in on itself, had twisted the
framework of her beliefs into a shattered wreck that was beyond
repair. Capt. William Scully was a giant, rock solid, eternal,
the source. Such a man could not die.

But he had died, and she had gone on, and had found herself ever
more adrift amid the madness of life without Ahab, of life with
Mulder.

Not knowing what was going to happen, not being able to predict
the future, to steer its course ... that was as frightening as
anything she could possibly imagine. It was beyond her how Mulder
could plan to fight anything as amorphous as the future, how he
could take arms against it as though it were already firm and
sure, its structures and tenets laid out like a blueprint that,
if you studied it long enough, would reveal its flaws and
vulnerabilities and give you a way to defeat it.

It was nonsense, of course, but such a glorious nonsense from
such a lovely, flawed man, a man of passionate commitment, and
when she was with him, she could almost believe his impossible
truths.

A movement to her right distracted her, and she turned to see
Mulder moving toward her, coming in closer ... still in a dream,
she thought, hazily, and as he moved closer, as he kissed her,
she closed her eyes and let it happen. His lips moved gently over
hers and it was a sweet kiss, a hopeful kiss, a loving kiss ...
asking nothing, only greeting her with love in the first minutes
of a new year, wishing her luck and happiness.

Only when he pulled away, when she felt the coolness on her lips
where the warmth of his had been, did she realize that the
dreamlike feeling was an illusion. This was reality, this place
of cold tile and sterile steel instruments, just as the deep
gouges on her throat and the sling around his arm were real. This
was Mulder, really Mulder, and he had kissed her.

Without thinking, she smiled. Mulder kissed me, she thought, and
the smile grew brighter.

And he smiled, too, a smile of relief and joy and, oh, dear God,
hope, a hope more painful than disillusionment could ever be.

No, Mulder, she thought, dully. Don't hope. It's easier when you
don't. Don't hope for more from  me. I've never been any damn
good to any man. I've loved and I've tried and I've given of
myself and in the end, I only screw things up. Remember Jack?
Remember Daniel?

But Mulder didn't know Daniel, she reminded herself. He didn't
know anything about Daniel, and never would. Never.

And now they stood here, and Mulder in his ignorance was happy,
and he was smiling. He gave a little shrug, acknowledging how
strange it was for them to do this, and yet his smile said he
wasn't sorry, not one bit sorry ... she thought that perhaps he
wanted to go on from here.

"The world didn't end," he said.

"No, it didn't," she said, but her smile was fading away.

No, Mulder, she thought -- it didn't end. But if we don't stop
this right here, right now, the world we have together may end,
and that I cannot bear.

Turn him away, Dana, she thought. Let go of the joy, let it slip
away into that world where we really live, where the future is
unimaginable, and a future with Mulder is unthinkable.

The only certainty in life is the past, and the past is death --
and loss.

He must have sensed her thoughts; he looked confused for only a
moment, and then resignation set in. He had nothing more to give
her, and she knew it. Neither his declaration of love nor his
kiss had been enough to get him through the Scully barrier, and
she hurt for him even as she promised herself that this was
right.

"Happy New Year, Scully," he said in a joyless voice, not meeting
her eyes.

"Happy New Year, Mulder," she responded.

And they walked out together into the cold, cheerless night.

*********

This is the original Jacobite version of "Auld Lang Syne," on
which Robert Burns based his version.

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forqot,
Tho' they return with scars?
These are a noble hero's lot,
Obtain'd in glorious wars;
Welcome, my Varo, to my breast,
Thy arms about me twine,
And make me once again as blest,
As I was lang syne.

O'er moor and dale with your gay friend
You may pursue the chase,
And after a blythe bottle end
All cares in my embrace.
And in a vacant rainy day
You shall be wholly mine:
We'll make the hours run smooth away
And laugh at lang syne.

Shall Monarchy be quite forgot,
And of it no more heard?
Antiquity be razed about
And slav'ry put in stead?
Is Scotsman's blood now grown so cold,
The valor of their mind,
That they can never once reflect
On old lang syne?
 

*********

END "The Valor of Her Mind" (1/1)
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