TITLE: Snakes That Don't Die
AUTHOR: Rhetta
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: Vignette
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, just let me know.
FEEDBACK: pindaran@hotmail.com
SPOILERS: 'Duane Barry', 'Ascension' and 'One Breath'
DISCLAIMER: Mulder and the rest of the 'X-Files' aren't mine. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and FOX. I'm just visiting. I can't help it, it's such a lovely view.
SUMMARY: The dark stuff bumping around inside Mulder's head shortly after taking Mrs. Scully to get Scully's tombstone in 'One Breath'

**********

She's gone.

She's not coming back.

I have to accept that.

I have to carry on without her.

That's what Mrs. Scully all but came out and told me when we went to get Scully's.....well, I don't even want to think of that word. Don't even want it to cross into my brain.

She told me a story about Scully shooting a garter snake and then mourning it's passing. I have no idea why she thought that would be helpful. I really didn't want to add the image of a young Scully weeping to all the other ghastly visions that plague my mind whether I'm sleeping or awake.

It's not like I don't have enough of them already.

Then again, it's not like I sleep either.

Even now I honestly don't know why I went with her. It wasn't the best place for someone in denial to go. The finality of a thing like that has a way of jerking you back into reality. It's hard to pretend what's happening really isn't when you see it etched in stone.

Great.

Now I am thinking of that word.

Crap.

I know what Mrs. Scully wanted to say. That I must accept her passing. Like she does. I guess that's what she meant by the story. That what happens is meant to. Everything occurs for a reason. This too shall pass. No matter how much you try you can't bring things back through sheer will. And all those other cliches people throw out when all hope is lost.

Well frankly, Mrs. Scully is wrong.

Sheer will is the only shot I've got left.

I've been searching for her for I don't know how long. Since she was taken the days have merged so close together that, for the life of me, I couldn't say if it's been weeks, months or even years since she left. I think it's years though.

I feel like it's been years.

I wonder where she is. I wonder how she is. I wonder what's happening to her right now. Is she awake, asleep, thinking of me?

Is she in pain?

Oh, please don't be in pain Scully. Please. Be asleep. Asleep and dreaming of something nice. Someplace nice. Somewhere with snakes that don't die.

Of course, that would be an X-File in itself. Scully would love it too. "Mulder, are you trying to tell me that for some unknown reason this place has snakelike creatures that are physically unable to cease existing? Immortal snakes Mulder? Isn't that the plot of one of those old sci-fi movies you're so fond of?"

She'd probably even give me 'the look' or, at the very least, an eyebrow raise. I would take either. I'm not greedy.

I would take anything from Scully right now. Even irrefutable proof that all my theories are wrong. Well, as long as she handed the findings to me in person.

I just miss her. More than I've missed anyone since Samantha.

I miss her red hair and blue eyes. The little smile she thinks I miss whenever I say something that amuses her. The way she rolls her eyes when I come up with a theory that she finds less than plausible. Her unswerving devotion to finding out the answers, no matter where they might lead. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor outside our office announcing her return. But most of all I miss her complete faith in me. Whenever I was around her I felt like I was a better person than I am. That there was hope for me.

I want that feeling back. I want her back.

I just wish I had something more to go on than sheer will.

Every lead I've gotten has lead nowhere. Every clue I've uncovered turns out to be another waste of time. I don't even know where to look anymore. Nothing new has happened since Skyland Mountain. Since Duane Barry traded her life for his.

Scully for Duane Barry. What kind of a lousy trade is that? Scully's worth far more than him. Whoever he made the trade with knows that. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he wasn't even wanted. He was just a pawn. A 'crazy as a loon' pawn, but aren't those the best kind? They never take the time to think about the repercussions of their actions. Or about how one of those actions affects a certain FBI agent who has developed a short temper and a very pronounced violent streak.

I believe I might have actually killed him if I hadn't stopped. It would have been frighteningly easy and, at the moment I was doing it, extremely enjoyable. Just the thought of him dragging Scully up that mountain to trade for his worthless life was enough to make me want to. I probably would have regretted it. I can't say. I don't believe in killing someone in cold blood. Especially in such a physical way. But the sound of Scully screaming 'Mulder, I need your help.' going though my head in some sort of nightmarish loop was enough to banish most of my inhibitions. But then I stopped myself.

Well, that's not true.

Scully stopped me. I heard her voice as clear as if she was right next to me. "Mulder, you'll never find out what he knows if he's dead. Think about what you're doing."

And I stopped.

I knew she was right. Whether that was her or just my conscience I don't know. All I know was that it was right. His death would mean the end of my only lead. And the only hope we had of finding her.

Which, unfortunately, it turned out to be thanks to the ever helpful Krycek. He would have made a good trade for Duane Barry. An excellent trade, in fact. Sadly, no one asked my opinion on that.

So now I sit here on my couch looking through the files on Duane Barry for something, anything, that will give me a starting point. Something I missed. Something small.

Something that will give my sheer will a fighting chance.

But as hard as I try I can't concentrate. My mind keeps going back to that story. All I can see is Scully sitting there weeping. Weeping over a snake. Why did she have to tell me that story? Why couldn't she have just given me a few of those cliches to deal with? I can handle words. I can twist them to fit whatever logic I want.

A crying Scully is something else entirely. The only twisting that does to me is of the physical kind.

But I can't think of that. Not now. Not when there's still a chance of finding her. There has to be a chance. I don't believe they would just kill her. That's not their style. How could they mess with my head if they kill the only bargaining chip that's worth anything to me? Smokey enjoys the mind games and he wouldn't let such a good one go to waste.

Then again, what if her death is the ultimate mind game? What if they want to see what I'll do without her? To see if I can do anything without her?

That's the problem with vast conspiracies who are dead set on stopping you from uncovering the truth. You never know where you stand in the grand scheme of things. Or how long until they put you down.

Skinner told me he was re-opening the X-Files. That that was the one thing they fear. I don't know how he thinks that's supposed to help me find Scully. Maybe he thinks it'll help me after I realize she's not going to come back. That it will give me a reason to go on.

I didn't see the need to tell him that the thought of going on without Scully, X-Files or no X-Files, is not something I'm prepared to contemplate. I know what will happen and I'm not looking forward to it. Now, it's not like I'm going to do something dark and tragic like blow my brains out. I'm not that melodramatic. I would continue on. Maybe with the X-Files. Maybe not. I'm not sure.

The truth is, I wouldn't care.

I'd just be going through the motions anyway. Just marking time. Continually stuck in that stupid story about that snake. Hoping that maybe just one time I could stop it from dying. Stop Scully from mourning. Stop me from mourning. Maybe even find a place with snakes that don't die.

I'm not quite ready to find that place though. I'm still waiting for that sheer will thing to kick in.