***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 "Stiletto" belongs to Billy Joel.

Archiving: Link only, please!

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Take A Bow
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, Angst, Mulder/Scully Romance

Rated PG-13

Spoilers through "The X-Files:Fight the Future"

Summary: Scully ponders her fate, then discovers that it
may not be decided after all.

Thanks: To my two feline friends -- The Catwoman, for
editing and checking dialogue; and Katwoman, for editing
and for the challenge.

==========

Take A Bow
by shannono

==========

Take a bow, the night is over
This masquerade is getting older
Light are low, the curtains down
There's no one here ...

==========

I have never felt so alone in my life

I thought I was alone six months ago, when I lost Emily,
my only real chance to have a child of my own. But then,
my family was around me, and Mulder was by my side. They
offered silent support -- support I wasn't ready to accept
at the time, yes, but just knowing it was available kept
the walls from closing in around me.

But my family seems light-years away now, and Mulder and
I have been divided, truly and completely. I have just
finished testifying before the Office of Professional
Review, in a conference room which, in my memories, will
always look like a courtroom, with my superiors judge and
jury over my fate.

Salt Lake City, of all places.

I knew we were doomed as soon as we were called into these
meetings in the first place. We had done nothing wrong,
really. We were checking the wrong building, yes, but one
of our supervisors had offhandedly okayed it after the
second check of the federal building turned up nothing.

And as it turned out, we were right -- well, Mulder was
right, anyway. We had time to clear the building, barely.
We saved hundreds of lives, including the groups of
children there on tours. We should have been feeling
good about ourselves. A commendation should have been in
order.

But now this. Apparently, SAC Michaud wasn't the only
fatality. The bodies of three other men and a little boy
were found in the rubble. And with no suspects, the FBI
needs someone to blame.

We've been designated roles in a pre-scripted play,
designed to provide a scapegoat, someone to throw to
the media wolves.

Only we don't know how the story ends.

How convenient that the bureau's pair of pariahs were the
ones who found the bomb. Shutting down, and destroying,
the X-files wasn't enough for these people. They had to
shunt one of us off across the country.

Of course, it's not going to happen. I already told Mulder
I wouldn't go, that I'd resign first. I don't think he
believed me.

But it's done. It's over.

Now comes the hard part.

I need to tell Mulder.

==========

Say your lines but do you feel them?
Do you mean what you say when there's no one around? 
Watching you, watching me, one lonely star ...

==========

I sit here, outside the room where my world came to a
screeching halt -- yet again -- and try to get up the
nerve to get in my car and drive to his apartment. I
know he'll be there, either digging for information
or just sitting in the dark, staring at the walls.

I wonder what his reaction will be.

Disbelief first, I think. Anger maybe, and hurt. He'll
say all the right words, but he won't really mean any
of it. He'll probably try to talk me out of leaving,
tell me we still have work to do.

But I can't do much from several thousand miles away.

I consider, briefly, not even going in person, just
picking up the phone to tell him. I don't know if I
can face him, look at him while he tries to find the
right thing to say or do to keep me from leaving.

But I know him. He's kept going through everything.
He's had his doubts, but he's never given up. He'll
keep going.

He doesn't need me for that.

==========

I've always been in love with you
I guess you've always known it's true
You took my love for granted, why oh why?
The show is over, say goodbye ...

==========

And I don't really know yet what I'll do next. Maybe
I'll apply to get my medical license reinstated, try
for a job with the state medical examiner's office.
I could teach, I guess; I do have experience.

I just know I can't leave Washington. Not now.

I can't leave him.

God. I can leave my job, the job I love -- or loved,
before all this -- but I can't leave him. The
realization hit me like a sledgehammer last month,
when I saw him with Diana Fowley. As much as I hate
letting my emotions rule me, it's become unavoidable.

I'm in love with him.

That's part of the reason I won't let them send me
across the country. I won't let myself be taken that
far away from him. At this point, I don't really
care if I don't see him again, as long as I know
he's nearby, where I can keep an eye on him in some
respect.

That makes me sound so weak. And I hate being weak.
I should be able to deal with this, to get over him
and move on with my life.

If only it were that easy.

==========

Make them laugh, it comes so easy
When you get to the part
Where you're breaking my heart
Hide behind your smile, all the world loves a clown
Wish you well, I cannot stay
You deserve an award for the role that you played
No more masquerade, you're one lonely star ...

==========

I've finally convinced myself to just go, tell him,
and get out. Spend the next few days trying to decide
what to do next. But on my way to his apartment, I
can't help but run over the possibilities in my mind.
I have a pretty good idea how he'll react, but I don't
know how long it'll take him to get past this enough
that we can at least be friends.

I suppose, once all this is over, I'll make some sort
of effort to reach out to him personally. I just don't
know how mad he'll be with me for leaving. He'll be
hurt, I'm sure, but if he gets to the point of laughing
about it, I've probably got a chance.

Mulder's defenses are well-honed; he's got a joke for
every occasion. If something scares him, or sickens
him, or horrifies him, he tries to laugh it off. I've
been on the receiving end of that for five years, so
I pretty much know what's coming when. His reactions
rarely surprise me any more.

He'll be serious at first when I tell him. He'll try
to convince me not to leave, spin some tale about how
important our work is. Maybe he'll try to goad me
into staying, tell me it's not like me to leave
something half-finished.

Then he'll probably get angry and yell a little. I'll
give him time to cool off, and the next time we talk,
he'll make a joke about it, and we'll move on.

I hope.

==========

All the world is a stage
And everyone has their part
But how was I to know which way the story'd go?
How was I to know
You'd break my heart?

==========

Here goes nothing.

I walk up to his apartment door -- standing half-open,
for some reason -- steel myself, and push it fully
open, stepping inside. He looks back at me, from his
seat at his desk, I don't pussyfoot around.

"Salt Lake City, Utah," I say, my hands clenched into
fists at my side. "Transfer effective immediately."

He shakes his head in disbelief, and I go on: "I
already gave Skinner my letter of resignation."

"You can't quit now, Scully," he says.

"I can, Mulder. I debated whether or not to even tell
you in person ..."

"We are *close* to something here," he says. His voice
is fierce, but he can't look at me. "We're on the
verge ..." 

"*You're* on the verge, Mulder," I interrupt. "Please ..."
My voice is breaking now. "Please, don't do this to
me ..."

He stands and moves toward me, his eyes intent on my
face, but I won't quite meet his eyes. "After what you
saw last night?" he demands. "After all you've seen,
you can just walk away?"

"I have. I did. It's done."

"I *need* you on this, Scully," he says.

I shake my head, finally looking him in the eye. "You
don't need me, Mulder. You've never needed me. I've
just held you back."

I feel the tears coming and mumble out "I gotta go"
before turning and rushing into the hallway so he
won't see. But I make it only halfway to the elevator
before he comes running after me.

"If you want to tell yourself that so you can quit
with a clear conscience, you can, but you're wrong,"
he says.

I can't stand this. I turn to face him and shoot
back: "Why did they assign me to you in the first
place, Mulder? To debunk your work. To rein you in.
To shut you down."

Did I say Mulder couldn't surprise me?

Okay, so I was wrong.

The look on his face as I speak is indescribable. I've
never seen him focused so completely on me, not even 
when I was lying on what we both thought would be my 
deathbed. It's like I'm the only thing left in the 
universe, and if he blinks, I'll disappear.

And then he speaks again, and my heart breaks into
a million pieces.

For him.

"But you saved me," he says, cutting off my tirade. He
begins moving toward me, coming gradually closer and 
closer to me as he goes on. "As difficult and as 
frustrating as it's been sometimes, your goddamned 
strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand
times over."

His voice is ragged with emotion, and I feel tears
forming in my eyes as he goes on.

"You kept me honest," he says, fairly shouting the
words, then dropping to a near-whisper. "You made
me a whole person."

Oh, God.

"I owe you everything, Scully ... and you owe me
nothing."

His voice drops even lower as he moves even closer.
"I don't know if I want to do this alone. I don't
know if I can. And if I quit now, they win."

For once, I am completely and totally speechless.
Floored. I can't believe what I just heard. Mulder,
my reticent partner, the man who has hidden his true
feelings behind a wall of humor and sarcasm for as
long as I have known him, has just told me the whole
truth.

And I know he means it. He's not just trying to
keep me from leaving. I mean, he is, but that's not
the main reason for this.
 
He really didn't know how I felt, that I had gotten
to the point where I thought I didn't matter to him.
And as soon as he realized it, he told me, in no
uncertain terms.

He *does* need me.

And Mulder doesn't need anyone.

The tears are unstoppable now, and I don't really
care anymore. I lean into him, wrapping my arms
around his waist and feeling his come around me.
But I need more. So I pull back and grab his face,
drawing it down to kiss the center of his forehead,
much as he did for me last year in a hospital
hallway.

I bring our foreheads together and stare into his
eyes, now as wet as mine. We pull a bit apart,
our eyes still locked, but we're beyond words.

So Mulder turns to action.

His hands come up to cup my face, and he pulls me
up toward him. His eyes flicker, just briefly,
lower on my face.

To my mouth.

Oh my God.

He's going to kiss me.

A million thoughts race through my mind in the
scant seconds I have before our lips meet. Can
we? Should we?

*Will* we?

After five years, it all comes down to this.
Emotions overflow in the dingy, dank hall outside
his apartment, and we're about to cross that
invisible line we've danced along for so long.

Hell, who am I kidding? We've already crossed it.
Just the intent to kiss is enough to change our
relationship, forever.

We can't go back now.

So we go forward.

Yes, we're going to kiss. Yes, we're going to enjoy
it. And no, we're not going to regret it.

I won't let us.

And then, just as our lips start to meet, a stabbing
pain hits me, along the back of my neck. I jerk away,
letting out an "oh" or "ow" or something.

Mulder is immediately apologetic. He thinks he's
gone too far, that he's pushed me into something I
didn't want. I rush to reassure him, telling him no,
it's okay, but something stung me.

And it hits me.

The bees.

As I pull my hand forward and look down at the
culprit, I feel it start. Warmth, running through
my whole body. My pulse speeds up. My skin turns
clammy. My world shifts.

I hear myself murmuring to him, trying to tell him
something's wrong. He's frantic, panicky; I can see
his face vaguely as he lowers me to the floor.

And then he's gone ... and the walls fade away ...

... and I'm consumed by the blackness.

==========

... say goodbye ...

==========

==========END==========