Title: A Normal Passing
Author: MissAnnThropic
E-Mail: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com
Summary: The story of Mulder and Scully's lives at the end of their careers told from Scully's POV.
Disclaimer: I own nasing! Really, I don't. All you see here (that you recognize, anyway) is the creation of someone else. I take no credit.



November 24, 2030

I can't believe I still do this. It has been almost 25 years since I quit the FBI as a field agent, and I'm still finding comfort in writing down this stuff... almost like I'm still reporting to the bureau I quit so long ago. Well, not so much quit as lost the heart for it. We'd found all the answers we sought... had everything we had been searching for. Sure, there were many unanswered questions left out there... things unsolved. We were just tired. You just get to a point somewhere in your life when it doesn't matter. All you want to do is lie down and sleep in, you don't care to know anymore. That's the point we'd reached.

I say we... of course the other person who went through all this with me is whom you might expect. Mulder.

Mulder had all his answers. He'd found out Samantha was dead, his mother had killed herself after having been diagnosed with a terminal illness, his father had died long ago. He didn't have anything left to finish. With everything left undone when we both left the bureau, he didn't have anything left unfinished. He'd done all he set out to do... at one point that just became more than good enough. I know he still feels sometimes like he walked away from so much he was obligated to do, that he feels he gave up too soon, but I still admire him for all he DID manage to accomplish. I just have to remind him that he'd reached that point where it was just 'good enough.'

I was the same way, just through different means. I had always been about proving myself. To him, to my colleagues, to my superiors, the other agents, to myself... it wasn't for a long time that I stopped to ask myself WHY I was proving myself to anyone. It had always been such an obviously right thing to do before... I just finally reached a point where it wasn't so clear anymore. I was tired... we were tired. We just wanted it to end. We wanted to be normal people for once... being not the norm is exhausting... so much harder than it is to be a normal person.

Of course, we had to make it a challenge.

We left the bureau at the same time. Kind of funny, he had a few years more in the FBI than I, but still we left together. I suppose it was what people suspected. They saw us so much as a unit, it probably just would have been weird for them at the water coolers to say 'Mulder's leaving' instead of referring to the Spooky Team. All I know was that in this journey Mulder and I had embarked on together so long ago, we reached the end together.

We were, now that I look back on it, pathetic at being normal. We were so ingrained to playing the roles of freaks that we didn't quite know how to handle regular stuff.

We tried to find work elsewhere... of course not because we had to. Mulder and I both had enough money saved to retire at that point. Sure, it was young (though not really young in terms of a field agent in the bureau). Mulder was almost 45, I was three years younger, but we both love working.

He actually went back to teach Psychological Profiling at the academy. Quantico was practically begging on their knees for him. Needless to say, he got paid a very lavish salary... and why shouldn't he? He was without question THE best criminal profiler to ever come out of BSU or the VCS.

I ended up teaching too, as odd a coincidence as that sounds. Quantico eventually tracked me down and hounded me enough to get me to consent to teaching a Pathology class. I found out later that Mulder had been pulling for me, plucking those damn high-power strings of his to get me in. Not that I needed him, I'd taught there before... I just thought it was cute that he was anxious to work with me again.

Now, don't misunderstand. In all this I say 'WE' in the way it always used to apply to us. Many ways in very much the sense of us as a unit, a pair... but in others we were very much different. Different places we went home to at night, different social circles (limited though they were in both our cases and excluding the mutual friends in the Lone Gunmen), different lifestyles. It was exactly like it was when we were on the x Files.

I have no doubt EVERYONE expected us to move in together once we left the bureau. Those numskulls refused to accept that we were not romantically involved.

I have to admit, I loved it. Working with Mulder again... seeing him every day without fail. We fell into very similar habits. We ate lunch together, we wandered into each other's classrooms when either one didn't have one, we went to seminars in the same car, shared motel rooms... it was like old times but without the high expectations. It was relaxing. Hell, after the shit Mulder and I had been through, what we did at Quantico was NOT called 'working.' Not to us. It was relaxation... the only kind we really knew, for neither of us were the type that could stand to be idle for long without something to do.

But it ended as I think we both knew it would. Mulder, being the valuable and crack shot profiler he was, slowly began to get called in for consult on more and more of the VCS and BSU's worst and hardest cases. Of course, Mulder accepted. He thrived on challenge... he always has. Eventually, he'd get bodies in cases, he'd need them examined by someone he trusted... all those autopsies got sent to me. And I did them willingly... it was at that time a nice change of scenery and I always found a kind of personal satisfaction in helping him out; the kind of satisfaction you get from helping a friend coupled with knowing you were backing up the underdog. After a while, he'd be called to on sight crime scenes... he wanted someone with him he felt he could trust their opinion.

Before too long, Mulder and I were on the field again, just not officially for title or payroll purposes. They needed Mulder for his sheer brilliance... he needed me because I was the only one he felt he could work with conducively. I was the only person that he felt aided in his thought processes rather than impeded them. No one dared question my presence when he requested it... they all knew old Spooky was attached to me. You see... in the past that kind of thing would have bothered me. To be seen only as Mulder's faithful companion.

After all we'd been through, I didn't care anymore. I even kind of liked it. The kind of instant respect I got on sight. People knew better than to get in my way. You see... Mulder was always there as a favor. God forbid, but he'd gotten even more stubborn and bullheaded after he quit actual field work. He was not FORCED to answer to anyone on sight... he was by description now only a teacher. He had his thumb over them all, and they needed him. After a while, once Mulder realized this free reign he had, he insisted I be there. The few times people on sight were foolish enough to question my involvement Mulder simply walked out on the case. Just like that.

Okay... I admit it, I liked it. Everyone there would watch after Mulder, stunned he was leaving, then just look at me in pure amazement that Mulder could put his sole condition on rendering his services on my presence in the case. I enjoyed the hell out of it, because after only a few instances of this, he inadvertently gave ME free reign over the others. No one dared press me too far, because if I got pissed and left, then Mulder left.

Of course, it went the other way just as well. I was asked to help out a few times. Not as many, of course, because the criminal pathology unit soon noticed that my condition was the same... I insisted Mulder aid me in my favor-rendered cases. If they turned him away, I turned them away.

I know the bureau hated it... having to bend to our wishes because they needed us. After a while of working in the field with Mulder having such command over those other agents, however, they began to APPRECIATE my presence.

Fox Mulder, to all others, became insufferable and unmanageable. Mulder took a liking to not being under anyone else's control, and he turned into what others called a 'giant ass.' Of course, when you're Mulder you can get away with it. He never slacked in his results. He still kept solving VCS's hardest cases for them... he just did them on his terms. He wasn't ready to take anyone else's bullshit... no more bureaucratic perfunctory for Fox Mulder... he'd had enough of that shit. And really, he'd eaten his fair share and more of that crap already.

I didn't notice this, of course... not firsthand. With me, he was the exact same Fox Mulder he'd always been. He didn't even think of condescending me or belittling me... after all, it was the two of us against the world. The other agents on sight began to be thankful I was there all the time... for I was the absolutely only person that could talk to Mulder. He might blow off a thousand other agents screaming at him, but I whisper and he listens. I was their only link between the real world and Fox Mulder. I'll admit Mulder has always been a little eccentric, this freedom only allowed him to be as bizarre and reclusive as he felt inside.

Even this grew redundant. It started to seem like we were solving all of VCS's cases. While it was fulfilling, we were falling into that same tiresome rut we'd worked into before.

I was the one to leave first this second time. My mother died about six years after I started teaching. I was devastated and didn't want to continue working after this blow to my family. I was tired, starting to realize my own age and mortality, and I wanted to spend all the precious time I had left doing what I wanted.

So I retired from my teaching job.

Mulder stayed in his old position for another year after I left, but I hear that it was not too pretty. I still chuckle over it, actually.

Without me, the one civil voice that could get through Mulder's thick skull, he became what everyone called 'completely unbearable.' Now that whisper in touch with reality wasn't there to rein him in. He was out of control. And he was lonely.

People noticed it. Old agents would call me up, asking if I could just come back to work on temporary duty, if only to lift Mulder's mood. His zeal for profiling was hampered. I had to admit I missed him too... missed seeing him every single day, but I knew where it would go if I consented. We'd end up right back where we started... I didn't want to do that anymore. So I started inviting Mulder over to my house after he finished work.

He accepted... from the look on his face I knew it was the highlight of his day. After a while, he didn't have to be asked anymore... he automatically came to my place after work. I never once turned him away or was upset to see him. I missed him too, damnit.

He slowly started to think differently. Now, when he said 'my apartment' and 'home' he was talking about two totally different things. And I loved it. He'd all but moved in with me, and I was a little surprised. I had always thought when I'd been on the X Files with Mulder and teaching after that, that he would just be too insufferable to live with all the time. But I didn't tire of him, and he didn't completely exasperate me.

Exasperate me some of course, he WAS Mulder, but I never forced him out of my home.

He started coming home from work earlier and earlier... almost as if weaning himself into retirement. It was kind of funny the work hold-over he had, but I wasn't going to push him. I knew better than ANYONE else the obsession he had with work... that he was a workaholic, but I didn't question him. As long as he kept coming home every day I really didn't care how long he wanted to work.

It wasn't until almost four years later that he really, officially, truly moved in with me. He turned in the lease on his apartment, he hired movers to move his things into my apartment, and we were living together.

Shortly after that, Mulder retired from work completely. Big step for him, but yes... he completely stopped working.

I had always thought I knew everything about Mulder. Living together I found out I was wrong. There was more to that man than I could have imagined (as I'm sure he must have thought about me). We spent a lot of time talking... getting to know each other, knowing the people we were outside of work. They turned out to be very different people from the work personas we knew of each other. Did you know Mulder is ticklish? I didn't... not until we were horsing around in the kitchen and I started poking his sides and he started giggling like a kid. I was stunned, just stopped and stood there and asked him in disbelief, 'You're ticklish, Mulder?' He'd just nodded... something as simple as being ticklish and I DIDN'T know that. We learned a lot about each other that people meeting anywhere else learn within the first year. It was almost a magical time... it was like meeting Mulder and getting to know him all over again.

We stayed in my apartment for nearly five years when we did the most unexpected, astounding... NORMAL thing we could have done. No one, absolutely NO ONE would have expected if from the Spooky Duo.

We tired of living in the thick of the city, so close to Washington D.C. and all we'd left behind.

Don't laugh... but we bought a small house in the suburbs of Virginia and moved there.

And though it might have seemed VERY belated, it was only then that we took any further steps in our physical relationship. Whereas that is first priority with most people, for Mulder and me it was truly one of the last things we needed to worry about... what we have... have always had, goes so much beyond physical. Ours has always been an intimacy of minds first, souls second, and then bodies.

How twisted is that... we didn't start sleeping together until I was 60 years old... Mulder was 63. Sick... I know... but come on... we needed to take baby steps on that issue. And trust me, we made amends for all the time together we missed out on.

For five years we lived in peace, calm... like normal people... like an average retired couple. Then, a little over a year ago, Mulder started to have heart problems.

It was first a cardiac echo, then an arrhythmia... turns out that Mulder's grandfather and great grandfather died of heart troubles... his own father at a young age had begun taking nitroglycerin for heart complications.

Mulder's not as active as he used to be... his heart honestly can't take the exertion. I know this kills him, to be slowed down... to have limitations set on him... rules he can't bend placed on his activities. I try to make him stay still, stay calm... I know he's just working himself up. Like I said before, this is Mulder... he still doesn't listen.

Despite this, we're happier and more peaceful then we ever thought we could be. I have never imagine Mulder could be this content. Some days he'll sit around and do absolutely nothing... for Mulder that's a very big deal.

I know his heart condition slows him... keeps him in his chair when he would otherwise be up and about, but he handles the limitations well. Mulder adapts well... he always has. I know this is tough though... it's hard on me too. I hate to see Mulder like this... I know it's getting worse. He gets so weak sometimes, out of breath and dizzy. It reminds me that no one lives forever, because Mulder of all people has always seemed invincible... like he's buttered and greased and death can't get a good grip on him. I know that butter's rubbing off... Mulder's going to get caught. I know it won't be much longer until I lose him. Even the Greek gods fell... so too will mine.



****



December 22, 2030



This will be my last entry. I know it has been nearly a month since my last. Shortly after my last entry Mulder took a turn for the worse. He suffered a stroke, sending us to the hospital emergency room.

He survived the attack, but the doctor called us into his office for a talk. In no uncertain terms, he said that Mulder's days were numbered... he had a hole in his heart (left atrium chamber) that was slowly leaking blood into his chest cavity. There was a VERY small chance it would clot on its own, though I knew as a doctor that with Mulder's age and family history it was doubtful that would happen. Of course, the option of surgery had been brought up. I must admit, my hopes rose a little at that prospect. The moment I looked over at him, sitting in the chair beside me... I knew it would do no good. Mulder, from the look on his face, hated the idea of surgery. Besides... he'd already outlived his father, grandfather, and great grandfather. No matter what the doctors did to patch him up, right now he was living on borrowed time. Statistically, considering family history, he wasn't supposed to have lived this long.

That night at home he explained to me that he just didn't want to spend what little time he might have left recovering from having his chest cracked open and his heart poked and prodded with fingers and needles.

I understood. I did, really. I didn't want anyone inside my baby's chest, poking him and hurting him... especially if he didn't want them to.

So the next morning he made me promise him something... the next time anything happened to him, not to take him to the hospital. He was begging me to just let him go.

I cried for maybe one of a dozen times since I left childhood. It just made it so real... I was really going to lose him. It could happen any time... he could just seize and that would be it... he would be gone. But I promised him I would... I'd do as he asked. If anything happened, I'd let him go. Well, I'd let his body go... NEVER would I let his presence in my mind and soul go.

For a few days I wouldn't let him out of my sight... always worried my next glimpse on him would be my last. He was really tolerant about it, keeping complaints to a minimum as I followed him around the house, never losing sight of him.

Then I slowly relaxed, knowing this could not be how he wanted to spend what time he had left; with me following his every move, a deathly terrified, expectant look on my face.

So life went back to relative normality. We returned to our peaceful existence.

Yesterday I was sitting in the living room reading a book when Mulder came in. He looked so tired, so worn out from life. It never really struck me before just how old he was, but as I sat there I took a moment and was a little surprised to remind myself he was 69 years old.

I asked him if he wanted anything, and all he said was, 'Can you take me for a drive, Scully?'

So I got my keys and we went out to the car, myself getting behind the wheel as he got in the passenger's seat.

I just started driving. When Mulder gets his most upset or anxious this is what he likes to do. He told me once it reminds him of what he'd always felt were our best old times together in the bureau. Being in the car together reminded him of all those times we were on stake-outs, one of the few times back then when we were really alone together. Just us, a car, and the open road.

I just started driving, knowing this was what he wanted... to remember what he used to love... being in the car with me and just me.

I looked over at him. He looked so... so tired. He sighed weakly, swallowing slowly and closing his eyes. He settled into the seat, relaxing completely.

I just drove, glancing over at him every once in a while... watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in his sleep.

We'd been driving about an hour and a half; we'd just passed his favorite greasy-burger diner. I looked over at my dear Mulder again. Something seemed off, not quite right. I stopped at a stop sign, looking over to study him a moment... then I noticed it. The rise and fall of his chest was missing. Mulder had stopped breathing.

Terror gripped me for a second, but only a second... then I remembered my promise.

I drove past the stop sign, pulling over to the side of the road.

I stopped the car engine, sitting in solemn silence with the man I loved, looking over sadly at his still form.

Mulder had been such an extraordinary man in life, everything he ever did was to the extreme, unexpected, spontaneous, wild, bizarre in nature... and as I sit with him now I am struck by how quietly he went.

For a man who had lived an extraordinary existence, this was such an ordinary passing. For a man like Fox Mulder, such a normal passing.



END