Title: Many Things
Author: RocketMan >lebontrager@harding.edu<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intened.
CONTENT:::::SPOILER FOR FTF!!!!!
Notes: Hey everyone. I haven't done a short piece in a very long time. I
miss it. This is my attempt to apologize to everyone for not being here
lately. I worked on two really long stories, only one of which I even
posted here. So this is for everyone here. Everyone that has read anything
of mine and responded, or just simply thought about it. Thank you.

~~@~~@~~

Many Things

~~@~~@~~

Many things have happened.

As I sit here, I can't remember what got it all started.

Was it my abduction? Or the first case, with the vegetable boy in the
woods offering up his classmates just as Duane Barry later offered me?

Did it start with the very first time my mother took me to the Naval Base
to see the doctor and I fell in love with him like only a six year old
can?

Was it even further? Did this begin with Mulder's father drowning in lies
and fear and turning that on his children?

Mulder told me it goes even further. Goes to the the beginning of the
world, when we first began to exist, when caves were homes and men were
animals.

I shiver and stand again, rising from my seat next to him, waiting just as
he is waiting.

"Scully?"

I shrug off his concern and roll my eyes at the wait.

"Scully, sit down, you're making me anxious."

I stalk to the window, ignoring him sigh, and look out at the thousands of
people moving below.

No, not thousands. I'd like to see thousands. I wonder how crowded it
would be on Pennsylvania if thousands came to the White House, to march on
it just as Martin Luther King did.

If they came to march for the truth instead of freedom.

Free at last, free at last. . .

Ha.

Freedom is so rare these days. I would rather be enslaved to the truth
than the lies. Even if the lies give me the illusion of freedom.

Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last.

I smile and laugh and look up at Mulder.

I *am* free at last, and it was Mulder's march on Antarctica that did it.

He raises an eyebrow at my joy, and I reach out for his hand.

"Thank you," I say simply and release his sweat-slick hand.

I see him confused in his plastic chair over in the corner; he can't
fathom what I could be thanking him for. That's Mulder. His mind is
horribly focussed on getting through each moment, forgetting the past, yet
living for it at the same time.

I wonder what he'd live like trapped in our past. Trapped in last year by
my death, disappearance, whatever.

Marches or misery?

I hope he'd march. . .I'd like to think he'd crusade harder than Martin
Luther King, like to think that such a cause would remain so important
long after my own assassination.

I have a Dream. . .

Many things have happened.

I have strange thoughts about it all.

Like now. When you have nothing to do but wait for release, rationalism
comes like snow in summer.

"Scully?"

"Unh-huh?"

"Do you mind sitting back down?"

"Yes. I mind. I'm watching them march, Mulder."

This must be too much for him and he comes up behind me, his breath
tickling the crown of my head before he looks out below.

"No one's marching, Scully."

He says it dejectedly, as if I promised him candy and didn't give it to
him, and he expected it anyway.

"Yes they are. In their own way, Mulder. Just by going on with their
lives. By demanding their freedom to work, to live, to love. They march."

He seems to know my words are more than a single parade line trampling
down the grass. He can see the allusion to our own lives here.

"I hope so."

"I know so," I reply and take his hand again.

"What do they march for, Scully? They're so different, so not alike."

"Truth. They march for truth and that is enough."

He shakes his head. "Sometimes, they need more. Sometimes one of them will
stop and forget why he keeps going."

"Then the other will be there to make him remember. To show him."

"Always?"

I smile and watch his lips twitch under my gaze. "If they quit now. . ."

He groans. "You're forever going to use my words against me."

I shake my head and turn to watch the 'thousands' of people marching for
freedom.

"I'm going to use your words for you, Mulder. Never against you."

A nod and he tugs on my hand, pulling me into him.

So many things happening.

"Now, will you sit down?"

With a gentle touch, he pushes me back to my seat, placing a two year old
People magazine in my lap and a grin on his face.

"Sure."

Many things have happened, and will happen, and are on the verge of
happening.

Right now, I just want Skinner to get in here so we can start our report.

Mulder sighs.

"Stop fidgeting."
~~~~

end 
adios
RM
how was that?
not quite our Scully. . .huh?