***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.
The song "This Used To Be My Playground" belongs to
Madonna and Shep Pettibone.

ARCHIVING: Link only, please!

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Playground
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, Angst, Mulder/Scully UST

Rated PG-13

Spoilers through "The End"

Summary: Inside Mulder's mind after the fire.

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Playground
by shannono

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This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end

==========

Smoke.

Soot.

Ash.

And my world crumbles at my feet. Under my feet.

All around me.

The words "comfortably numb" float through my mind for no apparent
reason, other than that I am numb, and it's a feeling with which I
have become entirely too comfortable. It's hard to let yourself
feel, when all you feel is pain.

This office was my haven, the one place I could always turn to when
everything else was falling apart, when I felt the most alone. Here,
I could immerse myself in my obsessions, hide away from the world,
insulate myself against my complete lack of a normal life.

Now the world has invaded, and I stand stripped bare. Unprotected.

I have no friends. My only friends were here, in these filing
cabinets. Soothing, comforting, here for me when nothing else was.

Oh, and then there's Scully. I can see her, only dimly, though she
stands just a foot away. I guess "friend" could fit her, but words
like "protector" and "soulmate" and even "lover" -- despite our
continued lack of physical intimacy -- seem more appropriate.

A friend is someone to talk to. Someone to tell everything.

Scully and I, we tell nothing, until we're backed into a corner
with no escape. Well, we tell nothing aloud, anyway, trusting in
our silent communication to relay the most crucial information. We
each expend our efforts on shielding the other from our own pain.
It doesn't work, but we keep trying anyway. It's all we know to do.

But these files, they spoke to me. We held silent conversations,
within these walls. They told me of spirits and conspiracies,
beliefs and possibilities. Truths only I could see.

Now, I'm left with nothing.

==========

Why do they always say
Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask

==========

My life has been defined by so few moments, my sister's
disappearance chief among them. I have held onto that one event
through all the others that have gone by.

I have never been one to let go of the past.

Any psychologist worth his salt would tell me, though, that 
Samantha's abduction isn't the problem. Most would point to my
father's slide into alcoholism and my mother's retreat into herself
as the root of the damage to my psyche, and I'd probably agree.

The breakup with Phoebe stands out in stark relief against the
relatively dull fabric of my early adulthood. Not content to have
complete control over me, she had to wrench away at the worst
possible moment and laugh as I fell, my support gone.

Some scars remain forever.

Diana is another good example. My one attempt at a "life," a real
long-term relationship, destroyed by my paranoia and obsessions,
and by her own unwillingness to stray far from the mainstream. When
I drifted to the basement, she drifted away.

Another hemmorrage, another scab on my heart.

Why is it so often the women who tear me apart?

==========

Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday

==========

And then came Scully. For five years, I've lived and died on her
every move. When she was gone, so was I. When she bleeds, I ache.
When she smiles, I rejoice.

And always, I burn, the fire buried deep inside me hotter than any
of the flames that engulfed this room. There is no water, no
coolant powerful enough to extinguish it, no matter how much I may
wish something could. For what do I have to offer her but a life
of continuing fear and anguish, and a heart riddled with holes?

I can hear Scully speaking in my head, though I know she hasn't
said a word yet, too trapped by her own shock. "It will be all
right, Mulder," the voice says, her honeyed tones snagging a bit
on the words in her grief. "We will go on. We won't let them win."

I can't bear to tell her, but she was right. They've already won.

We have wasted five years of our lives in pursuit of nothing. Five
years of grasping at straws and clinging to air.

We have been such fools.

==========

No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say

==========

Scully once told me that if she could do it all over again, she
wouldn't change a day of our partnership. Of course, that was before
her cancer, before Emily, before ... this. I wonder if she would
offer the same solace now.

Do I have regrets? Hell, regrets are all I have.

She has turned toward me now, gazing up at me, but I can't see the
expression on her face, can't see her eyes. My body simply will not
move, and I can't look at her now. I know I should have a shred of
something to hold on to, some hope that this won't be the end.

I should be able to show her I haven't given up.

But when I reach inside for something -- anything -- I find only
a void.

I am hollow. They have drained my life from me.

I have nothing left to give.

==========

This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy

This used to be our playground
This used to be our great escape
This used to be the place we ran to
This used to be our secret hiding place ...

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