Title: "Resignation" (Prologue)

Author: Emmyjean (emmyjeanb@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Up to Existence… and beyond.

Archive: Permission only please, just so I can keep track.

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I don't own anything. If I did, there would be no need for this fic as none of the events leading up to its penning would have happened. J

Author's Notes: This is a story which takes place after Scully reads Mulder's "Dear Jane" letter telling her he's left. My interpretation of Scully's would-be reaction. I'm assuming, for the purposes of this story and any sequels, that William was conceived by in-vitro and that Mulder and Scully have not as of yet…um, ahem…you know. Heehee…anyway, read on.

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She felt the blood drain from her face, and looked down at the floor expecting to see it pooling at her feet. There was nothing. For one fleeting moment, she thought she might faint. She looked down once more at the noxious black words jumping out at her from the stark white paper, unable to comprehend their meaning or even accept their existence. She thought that if she simply closed her lids and took a deep breath, counting slowly to twenty, the hateful letter would be gone from her trembling hands when she again opened her watery eyes and he would be standing before her, demanding to know what was wrong.

She sank lightly into on of the hard kitchen chairs, despite the heaviness in her heart making it seem suddenly as though she weighed a million pounds. She read the letter a second time, and then a third…nothing about it's clear meaning changed upon repeated readings. He was gone.

He was gone, and there was no way she was ever going to be able to find him. She felt the tears well up again as she contemplated the idea that she may never see him again. Not alive, anyway. He could end up lying in a gutter somewhere, or a huge field buried under three feet of dirt, and she'd never know what had happened to him. No one would.

How could he do this to her? After everything that they'd been through together, everything they had promised each other from the beginning, how could he now turn his back on everything he'd claimed to believe? Trust…she'd given him her trust. She'd respected him, she'd always been at his side when he needed her if at all possible. She rested her head wearily on her folded arms atop the table, his letter still clutched in her left hand.

How could he DO this?

She began to let the drops fall, not caring, and after a mere moment of weeping she opened her eyes in the dark cocoon created by her arms and the red hair which draped over them like a curtain. She stared at the vague outline of the pools of salty water her tears had formed on the heavily-grained oak of the tabletop. Suddenly disgusted with herself, she sat upright once more and continued eyeing the faint physical evidence of her torrid emotions.

Her loss of control.

When had she lost control of herself like this? She wondered, as she angrily brushed the remaining wetness away from her red-streaked cheeks. She had always prided herself on being cool in a crisis, at being able to retain command of her sentiments no matter how overwhelming. In other words, she had always been considered, by herself and by others, a particularly poised individual.

It had been a part of her identity, something that set her apart from the rest of her family when she was young. Her brother Bill had been the rigid disciplinarian, her sister Melissa the empathetic free spirit, her younger brother Charlie the capricious prankster…and she, Dana, had been her father's daughter. The logical, stoic scientist. The one who could be practical and reliable in a jam, the one all the others had always called when they got into some sort of trouble. The one her mother called when she needed advice. When she had grown into adulthood, that particular aspect of her personality had assured her continuing success in the male-dominated and challenging field she had chosen for her career. It had kept respect she received from other agents genuine, and had provided her with self-confidence. Not only that, but it had allowed her to do her best to serve others in a professional yet sympathetic manner.

What good had she been to anyone in the past year? None, she answered herself silently as she set her jaw tightly. She gazed now at the ticking clock which hung on the wall. It used to serve as a reminder of her biological clock ticking. After that, she had used it to count the minutes since Mulder had been taken from her. Since when had Mulder become what defined her as a person? Was she no longer an individual with her own belief system and personal convictions? Did she not have her own life to worry about, things that did not revolve around him?

She sighed…she loved him. That could no longer be denied by even the most casual observer, least of all by Scully herself. But had her feelings for Mulder, or his feelings for her, become so all-consuming that his quest and his life have now devoured her own? That would mean that her worst fears had come true…she had become swallowed by the magnitude of Mulder's presence in her life.

She let her thoughts wander for a moment, pondering her next move. Then, without thinking, she slowly pushed herself away from the table and stood up. Pulling her sweater closed and hugging herself around her once-again slim middle, she strolled calmly into her bedroom. It was dark, but she knew the room by heart and did not need lights to find her way to her son's crib.

She leaned down over his little sleeping form and inhaled deeply of his scent- baby powder and milk. And her…he smelled of her. He was hers. She reached down and gently, tenderly rubbed his tiny back with her hand. He stirred slightly, but she knew he would not awaken…not for a few hours, when he got hungry. She looked on as he shoved miniature fingers into his mouth, small suckling noises emanating from the point of contact. She hadn't thought it possible to love so completely someone you have only just met. She would give her life and her place in heaven for him in less than an instant.

She straightened suddenly, her chin raising a fraction as she continued to regard William. All at once, all thoughts of going after Mulder evaporated. Any idea she had entertained of finding him, begging him to come back to them, vanished into the peaceful darkness which enveloped her in her child's bedroom. She realized that she could not follow him this time…she had a son to look after. A little being who depended on her solely now for warmth, love, and protection…who needed her more than any grown man.

She was a mother. Despite the finality of the admission, she felt no suffocation accompanying it. Instead, she could feel her heart steel with some kind of strange liberation…the person she had been was begging to be freed again. She recognized then that her role as William's mother was one she wanted to take on, and one that would not obscure her identity. They would instead live in tandem, allowing her to be true to herself while simultaneously devoting herself to the tiny being she had created.

They had created.

She felt one last pang of regret and pain at Mulder's apparent abandonment, but that was all she allowed herself. She would not waste her time with her baby mourning over opportunities lost and territory undiscovered. She knew he must have reasons for what he has decided to do, and she must trust him once more to do the right thing.

Then, she must put him out of her mind. If he must do what he feels is important, then so must she…only this time they cannot be one and the same course of action.

With that thought, and that newly acquired motive and self-assurance, she bent and lightly kissed her son's soft brow. Then, she walked out of the room…

…and back into Dana Scully's life.

FINIS

 

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