Title : In Time
Author : Shawne
E-mail Address : shawne@shawnex.freeservers.com
Rating : G
Category : VA
Spoilers : nothing concrete from the episode, but based on "The Field Where
I Died".
Keywords : post-ep S4, MSR
Archive : Anywhere, but do drop me a line. I like to know about these
things.
Disclaimers : One day, I swear, I will create characters of my own. Till
then, I can only sheepishly borrow the brilliant ones that Chris Carter
himself has brought to life. :)
Summary : Scully remains behind on the path they have chosen to walk
together, waiting for Mulder to realise he must eventually return to it.

Author's Notes : This is the week when most Geocities-based authors are
running like crazy to other servers and are kept insanely busy updating,
reloading, and revamping. I'm no exception to that rule, and hence this
story isn't a new one by any means. An older work of mine from about three
months back, I thought I'd send this in to the list since I haven't done so
before. Once I get my new site up and running, I'll be flinging new stuff
into the mix again. Until then, visit my temporarily thrown-together new
home at:

http://www.shawnex.freeservers.com

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He is pulling away.

The future does not seem to concern him any longer. He has been beguiled by
the past, and he has forgotten the present. I can see the hand that used to
clench mine so tightly loosening; I can feel his warmth cooling as he turns
and looks over his shoulder.

We were supposed to walk the whole way together. We did, through the past,
to the present, and I thought we would do the same into the future. His hand
in mine, my hand in his. If we ever got separated, it would not have been by
choice. That was always what I had thought.

But now I can see him pulling away.

His mind has been confused. It is whirling, filled with pain and memories
that I can't share or even trust. He throws looks back that make me scared,
because they are full of longing and desire. He has been shown worlds that
he once loved, and he cannot tear himself away from the thought of returning
to them.

It is a powerful distraction, the spectre of a past life. His hand is
moving past mine now, the fingers tracing my palm for what I irrationally
fear might be the last time. His other hand is outstretched, flung behind
him, searching for a link to bring him all the way there.

I can see him turning.

He is turning away from me, and it is one of the most painful things I have
ever had to see. At the end of the long path, his eyes see things that I
cannot see, his ears hear things I will never hear. I stand stockstill,
unable to advance without him by my side.

The tears are threatening, but I push them away. No one could live in the
past, not if they wished to embrace the future... that much I know, and that
much I can believe in. He will have to turn back eventually, although I
don't know how long that will be.

He has pulled away.

My eyes follow him as he frees himself from my almost desperate grasp. He
is apologetic, for he is not quite willing to plunge into a history that
might not accept him. But I trust him, and know that he can find his way
back. It will be hard not to interfere and make him see the truth, that
going into another life is not the way to make it become real again. He will
have to learn that truth for himself.

I watch him as he leaves.

Once again, he is alone on the journey, carrying the weight of loneliness
on his back. I can see his trepidation and his tremulous desire, but can do
nothing about them. I want to reach out and grab his hand again, guide him
back to the road we have yet to finish walking together. But it would only
hurt him, I know, and it would not be as effective as having him return on
his own.

We were alone once, the both of us. Living our lives without knowledge of
the other, never suspecting that our paths would one day intersect.Not
knowing that from that day on, our paths would never be divided again. It is
true. We are not separated, except that I am stalled here in the present,
unable to keep going because he is back-tracking, running back to the fork
and beyond, hoping to find something there.

He is growing smaller in the distance.

My heart is already hurting, sore from not having him live in the world I
live in. His mind now functions in the past, for that is all-consuming, and
he has remembered things he needs to get a firm hold of. I have to let him
go, to allow him to do that.

I can see him hesitate, glancing back at me.

Almost seriously, I wonder if I should, if I could, follow him. He has
mentioned lives in which we meant the world to each other, as we do now.
Those were different lives, of course. We had chosen different ways to be
with each other, but we had known from the start that we had to be together.
We had made sure to walk in the same general direction.

Now, we have selected to walk the same road, through whatever blocks it,
and to whatever lies beyond. But he is diverging from it, distracted,
unsure. I can only hope he will retrace his path and not leave me by the
wayside.

I know he will come back.

He is entering the field where he died, forgetting about the life he has
yet to live. But only one thing connects his past and his future, and that
is the road I am standing on now. He will come back, because he must come
back. He chose it, just as I did, and we can move backwards, we can stray,
but we can never leave it entirely.

This was the way we chose it to be. It is the way things must be. Maybe
next time, we will make different choices, and we will be bound to each
other in different ways. But for now, I would not change a thing.

I don't know when, but he will come back. In time.

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Please send feedback of any kind, cookies and/or virtual hugs to
shawne@shawnex.freeservers.com

Added March 1, 1999