TITLE: Wish You Were Here AUTHOR: Denise Morgen EMAIL: meadora@hotmail.com DISCLAIMER: The characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Fox, Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. I do not have permission to use these characters and am making no money from their use. The song "Wish You Were Here" that I am blatantly plagiarizing is performed by Mark Wills and was written by Skip Ewing, Bill Anderson and Debbie Moore. Like the above characters I have received no permission to use these lyrics, but please don't sue me. RATING: PG CATEGORY: Songfic, Scullyangst, Character death SPOILERS: Triangle NOTE: This story assumes that Mulder and Scully are already involved in a non-platonic relationship. Visit my fanfiction, it gets lonely! http://DennysX.cjb.net Wish You Were Here By Denise Morgen We're standing together at the gate. I have hedged and delayed as long as I can. He's leaving me again, wrapped up in his cause like a blanket. Following the ghost of a child who disappeared so long ago I wonder if even her spirit remains. There it is again...that strange, horrible feeling that this time is the last, that we'll never again stand face to face at an uncertain juncture, the future stretched ahead of us like the strands of a spider's web. I feel it twisting and turning before us, spinning its gossamer threads into the convoluted pattern that comprises our fate. I want to beg him to reconsider, to ignore his shadowy source and stay by my side. What inducements can I offer? My love? My body? He has them both, as well as my soul. And to ask him to stay would be to betray him, to try to turn him into something he's not. I could never do that to him. Swallowing the darkness that threatens to drown me, I kiss him passionately and then say: "You're going to be late if you don't go." I'm surprised by how calm my voice sounds. As if my premonitions of doom weren't choking my every breath. Who would've believed such a thing of me? I, who cling to my science and refuse to believe even when the events unfold before my very eyes, am brought low by something as vaporous as a hunch. How would he react if I told him his favorite skeptic had found her faith? But he interrupts my scattered thoughts with a soft reassurance and a boyish grin. "I'll be alright," he whispered softly, "I'll call tonight to let you know." One more quick kiss and a smile and he slips from my grasp, gathering luggage and coat and fumbling for ticket as he approaches the counter. I watch entranced as he completes the familiar ritual. He gives me one final wave before disappearing on to the boarding ramp and suddenly I'm alone in the world. I'm waiting for my phone call. The hours since I left him have stretched into an interminable eternity. The dread that I felt as I stood by his side has magnified into a gut clenching, soul stealing terror. I sit unmoving on my couch, growing more restless by the minute. I resist the temptation to scream my frustration to the heavens. "He's not late," I tell myself in a fruitless attempt to reclaim my calm. "His plane didn't land in Hawaii until 7." It's only 7:03 now. I chuckle lightly to myself, my panic lightening its iron grip enough to allow this tiny amusement. Together we journey to exotic destinations like New Jersey and Oregon. Leave the man alone and he heads for 'paradise with a beach'. That's a direct quote; who would have ever guessed that Mulder harbored a secret addiction to sun and sand? The phone is ringing now, my momentary good humor forgotten. The shrill tone seems somehow sinister and I feel my panic attempt to consume me. Three rings. Four. My hand trembles as I lift the receiver and place it against my ear. "Scully." Even my voice sounds broken. A voice buzzes in my ear like a mosquito. my heart and soul cry out in despair. It doesn't sink in what the voice is saying and the words echo meaninglessly through my head. My mind plays with the empty syllables before slowly assembling them into a single still incoherent thought: ma'am-the-plane-went-down-our-crews-have-searched-the-ground-no- survivors-found. The words toss back and forth in the empty waves of my consciousness as I silently replace phone in the cradle...I am alone in the world. Prologue: It's been three days since my life ended. I am, if you'll pardon the expression, sick to death of sympathetic well-wishers with meaningless platitudes and false obsequiousness. Do they look to me for forgiveness? Why else would they stand before me now and profess their sorrow over the loss of a man so great that he existed under an umbrella of their scorn while he lived? Hypocrites. Who among you really mourns Fox 'Spooky' Mulder? Skinner perhaps. I saw the sincerity in his eyes when he offered his condolences. Or maybe he's just afraid that I plan to hasten my own demise in response to my grief. If I am honest then I'll admit that the thought had crossed my mind. And to be truthful, I might even have done more then contemplate if I hadn't checked my mail this morning. Even in death Mulder is nothing if not unconventional. Even now he stretches the realm of credibility and belief. This morning I got a postcard in the mail that just said 'Heaven' with a picture of the ocean and the beach. And the simple words he wrote me said he loved me and he told me how he'd hold me if his arms could reach. As I read this I had to stop and weep. This was the first time I'd broken down. We'd never told each other we loved each other. Well, unless you count that time in Bermuda, which I don't. Demerol induced confessions don't count. It's just like Mulder to break down and tell me when he's incapacitated in some way. And now it's too late... I took a minute to compose myself before I bent to finish. 'Wish you were here, wish you could see this place. Wish you were near, wish I could touch your face. The weather's nice, in paradise It's summer time all year, and all the folks we know they say hello. I miss you so, wish you were here.' Mulder I close my eyes against the pain. God, it's so hard. But regardless of what everyone thinks I won't let it break me. Mulder would expect better of me. I expect better of myself. Wish you were here... Fini.