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‘I never
should have gone away,
I never should have gone away and left you like I did
with tears in your eyes
I thought you'd take me back
but now to my surprise
I'm on the outside looking in,
Gotta find a way, gotta find a way back
to you heart, dear once again.
Won't you take me back again
I'll be waiting here till then
On the outside looking in’
.........................~’I’m On The Outside
(Lookin’ In)’ by Little Anthony & The Imperials
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'The desert never rests. For a place so hot, with such little
wind most of the time, you'd expect it to be still, and yet...'
*sigh* 'It's always moving...forever changing direction. One
second a particle of sand lifts with the slightest puff of air,
and then - without warning - something sends it hurtling in the
opposite direction.
God, it sounds so much like my life, and yet I actually envy that
tiny, almost insignificant fleck; to have no worries in life? No
sense of helplessness? ...No all-consuming need to be back with
the people you love the most...'
As the emotion blocks his throat, the man wipes his wet eyes and
quickly looks up from the patch of dusty ground he's been
silently staring at for the past ten minutes. He'd promised the
boy that he wouldn't think along those lines - wouldn't think of
*them* - whilst in close proximity to the trailer, but even four
months after leaving her apartment, his mind refuses to not
wander back in that direction. Of course, if he were alone he'd
think about them all the time without pause, but the kid's
helping to protect him, so it's only fair to let him keep his
sanity.
"I'm watching TV now."
The statement makes the man turn and he looks down at the boy -
wondering in the back of his head how his son will be when he
grows up (as well as praying that he'll be back with them in time
to find out).
"Gibson, I'm sorry - I didn't mean to..." His unsteady
voice trails off and he briefly glances guiltily at his feet. The
portable television in the corner of the trailer is the boy's
only refuge from the dark, all-encompassing thoughts that plague
the man's mind, so he knows exactly what is being implied by that
small sentence. "I swear I'll stop--"
"She's misses you too."
Mulder's head snaps up with a bone-jarring force.
"Ho--"
"As much as she hates herself, she wishes she'd turned to
see you. She reads your letters to Will every night...plays the
song every other night."
"But they're okay?" Nothing else matters to him right
now except the answer to this question.
Remaining in the open entrance to the trailer, Gibson's eyes
cloud over, and the man feels a sweat break out across his
forehead as he waits to learn the health of his family.
'My family? God...My family....'
*Always have been, always will be.*
*I've been gifted with perfection, only to then have to walk away
from it...*
*Just remember, when it's safe, to come back! My constant-*
*My touchstone. My family.*
‘When it’s safe‘? Would it *ever* be safe for
them? Four months of separation had rolled by at a snail's pace
and he'd gained some new information that might help fight the
aliens, but it wasn't enough - especially if they wanted to give
their son a future.
"She's worried because she hasn't heard from you,"
Gibson finally relayed. "you haven't answered her
e-mails..."
Guilty as charged, but for her safety more than anything. He'd
religiously driven to numerous internet cafes in the neighboring
towns three times a week - reading and savoring every word she'd
typed to him (some just short notes essentially pleading him to
come home ASAP. Others, updates on William's progress...or
rambling recollections of the day's events - anything to make
them feel that much closer). No reply message had left his
mailbox, though - not even when she'd asked him for help
concerning a demonic possession case Doggett and Reyes had gotten
themselves caught up in.
Maybe it was time to send that long-overdue message to let her
know he was as okay as he could be under the
circumstances...Whatever that meant.
"How do you know all this? I mean, if you're just saying
this to calm me a little... Y-you know you don't have to..."
Mulder whispered - his mouth suddenly too dry to make it any more
than that.
Gibson Praise shook his head dismissively and then shrugged his
shoulders. The connection he had made to these people that were
practically like family now scared him, and - occasionally -
annoyed the hell out of him (the last thing he needed in his
already complicated life was two tortured souls bombarding his
brain with their woes). Yet he was also happy to know he could
help them - even simply by passing on how they were feeling;
they'd always tried (albeit with little success) to protect him.
And even though he'd been the one helping to cover Mulder's back
out in the New Mexico wilderness for the last two and a half
months, he actually felt the safest he'd been for some time.
"I hear you all the time...Even when you don't think you're
thinking about them, you are - your brain hates itself for *not*
knowingly doing it, if that makes sense... I try to block it so
you can have your privacy, but..." Gulp. "Your thoughts
shout so much, and you feel so much...It was just like a hum
underneath everything else at first, but now...I f-feel it
too." The boy paused again and stepped down onto the sandy
ground. Mulder's litany of 'Oh God, what have I done? I'm such a
schmuck - ruining his life as well...always ruining lives...'
echoed in his head, but he tried to push it aside. This was\not
the time for that conversation again. "I feel like this
outsider looking in...and at some point I got access to the tight
bond you share with Agent Scully. I don't know when, or how, but
it's like being with you both in the same room."
Mulder placed a hand against his chest as his eyelids slipped
shut. He'd told her that no matter where he was or what happened
she would always be in his heart, just as he would always be with
her should he be taken off this mortal coil again. He hadn't
realised it would be taken so literally through the words of the
fourteen-year-old kid.
"You feel her too," Gibson corrected. "But your
pain usually washes the feeling out."
The former FBI agent smirked at such adult philosophy coming from
a very young teenager, but then lowered his hand. Yes, he felt
her. She’d said, on his return, that something had been
telling her something wasn’t right, even after he’d
been buried, and he too now felt deep inside that they were alive
and well…He just prayed she couldn’t feel how he felt
at present. Thinner, bedraggled and still sporting a nasty wound
on his upper left arm from an encounter with a supersoldier three
weeks ago (which would have been fatal had it not been for the
train at the railway crossing knocking down his hunter and giving
him chance to increase the distance gap and get to his
car)…He was far from being the man that had given her
promises for the future before leaving her apartment that morning
an eternity ago, and that was even before taking into account his
mental state! How the hell had a pregnant Scully survived his
abduction and death?
“She didn’t.”
Snapping back to reality (having not even realized that his mind
had wandered elsewhere yet again), Mulder shook his head and
focused on Praise. “Huh?”
“She didn’t survive: she just…was.”
'I prayed *so damn hard*, Mulder.'
“She’s not sure if she can do it again.”
He didn’t question that fact. Just being the outsider
himself on his impromptu ‘visit’ a fortnight after
leaving and looking at the pain etched on her sleeping face had
proven she was suffering as much as him. His sole goal was to
smoothe out those distress lines.
“She can…She’s the strongest person I
know…I-I know stuff’s happened she hasn’t told me
about, but I gotta believe she can make it through, ‘cos if
she can’t there’s no hope for me,” he choked out,
suddenly finding the sand at his feet interesting again.
Gibson winced and moved to re-enter the trailer. There was
nothing he could do to make this any easier, and knowing what lay
out there only made him feel more pity for the man.
“I’m going in to watch telev--” His voice cut off
as he saw Mulder’s right hand lift into the humid air.
Silence.
Thinking. Calming.
“I--…It’s okay…I’m going into town to
the café,” the older man sighed. “You’ll be
okay?”
There was no reply, but none was really needed, and a beat later
Mulder headed toward the horizon to take the half-mile walk to
his hidden car.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
INTERNET CAFÉ
UNKNOWN TOWN
NEX MEXICO - 12:31pm
There was a message from Frohike, as expected, in his mailbox
when he checked…and yet another from Scully.
Prayers have given us little headway in the past, but faith is all I have left now - faith and hope that you’ll be home soon - so I pray this reaches you and finds you alive and well.
An awkward glance at his covered arm before turning back to
intently read her email.
Firstly, I forgot to mention last time that thanks to Monica’s determination, John was found in Mexico and saved before the corrupt local authorities. His memory had been wiped by still-unexplained ways because he got too close to the truth in an investigation he was carrying out… Besides the impressive number of hospital visits they too are now clocking up (must be a con of working in the X-Files office…at least it can’t be completely put down to your clumsiness)
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The guarding wall
around her heart was built back up, but for once it didn’t
bother him because he knew he was on the inside, and somehow it
was like a deflector against anything that tried to
intercept/destroy everything they had together (especially
comforting to his own heart when she‘d mentioned in one of
her messages three weeks ago about the pushy entomologist Rocky
Bronzino). He knew the sadness behind the banter, though -
understood it; they tried to just act as if he was off on a case
alone… but the reality of the forced, extended separation
always broke through the façade.
William’s growing fast, and already starting to display so many characteristics his father would be proud of. I wake up late at night wondering if I’m gonna walk into the living room and find him lying in front of the TV - remote clutched firmly in hand. I just wish his father was here to stand by my side as we watch over him…
It was times like this when he wished he wasn’t in a public
place - he must have looked like a complete fool sitting there,
staring at the screen with a smirk on his lips but large tears
pouring from his eyes. Nevertheless, onward he read, with pride
and love warring for prominence in his heart.
Mom likes to joke that those we’re up against really don’t have a chance with an über-Scully-Mulder out there. I’ve attached a recent photo she took of him with me on my digital camera.
Mulder quickly clicked on the button to download the attached
file, and then readjusted the size of the two windows on the
screen so that he could see both the email and photo at the same
time.
“Scul-ly…” he whispered - his voice hitching as he
struggled against completely breaking down. Why was he here? How
the hell had he lasted this long away from them? She’d been
the one his life had depended upon since the day they’d met
anyway, but since their relationship had deepened and…and
now, with Will… He was alone, had had to do some dangerous
stakeout work on possible leads, had come close to dying more
than a couple times, and all he wanted was to be back home with
the only two people in the whole universe that gave his life
meaning!
This was ridiculous. Who was to say that they really *were* safer
without him there? And four months of intense searching for
information had turned up little - if any - information, so was
there any point? It was time to go back h--
‘We've come through enough in the past...and we've gotten
this far…Go ahead to wherever you must to find a way home,
but don't turn back again until you have. I just want you to be
careful and safe...I love you too much to lose you again.’
He shook away the words she’d uttered when he’d played
‘Shadow’ and secretly visited her apartment. Things had
gone too beyond that now.
Raising a shaky hand to tenderly run a finger down the image of
his son and partner’s faces, he bit down on his lower lip -
weighing up the options.
This time, it really was his choice.
God, you promised to write me! Four months, Mulder, and nothing! I can sense you’re still alive, but…where are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?
The message abruptly ended there, like a virtual slap in the face
or kick up the ass for his silence.
He let out a deep sigh and then hit the ‘Reply’ for the
first time from this address. The choice had to be made, but she
had always been the one in the past to either support him if it
was a good one, or bring him round when it wasn’t. If the
path he had chosen was wrong, she would be the one to tell him.
So, with a cautious glance over his shoulder, he started by
typing in the subject header
Dearest Dana…
- an endearment they’d agreed upon for security purposes before his departure, but hey!….maybe it’d also help to apologise for the lateness of the message…
XXXXXXXXXX
THE END...for now :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'There's so
much I want to know,
You've got the chance to learn,
If it means I'd have to go,
I'll be right here when you return'
.........................~'Out Of Thin Air' from Disney's 'Aladdin
And The King Of Thieves'
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DISCLAIMER: If
you're still under the impression I own these lovely characters,
you're more in need of help than me!
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