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When she said she was leaving, the words had weight. Every syllable felt like a physical impact, a series of blows, perfectly placed to deliver maximum internal damage.
And then there was nothing. The silence of the hours that followed was deafening. His vision told him that she was there, moving through their home lifting all the pieces of her out of the puzzle they had built together, leaving the picture incomplete. But it was as though someone had erected a wall of soundproof glass between them. A barrier that he simply could not penetrate.
In the silence, all he could hear were his own thoughts. The deafening dissonance of the many characters that performed his own internal monologue.
The well-brought-up boy from Martha’s Vineyard chastised him, “Look at her struggling with all those boxes! Aren’t you going to get up and help her? Get over yourself and be a man!”
The hot-shot profiler was listing all the ways that his behaviours had inevitably led to this moment. Highlighting every character flaw in him and contrasting it with every wonderful thing about her, presenting his findings with cruel detachment. “As you can see, the subject demonstrates a chronic inability to sustain any healthy relationships. Recommended treatment: isolation, for the good of all involved.”
The meticulous investigator was cataloguing everything about her. The warm scent that was uniquely hers, the graceful way she occupied space, the careful way her hands expertly excised every trace of herself from the scene. But there was one item of evidence he didn’t want to catalogue, no matter how much his investigative voice insisted, “Look at her eyes, there is no word for their colour because that blue belongs to her alone, but record it as best as you can. Don’t forget to note the redness too … and the tears.”
These versions of him were incessant in their commentary but there was one voice that was louder than all the others. The voice of the man who loved her. He was simply screaming, “DO SOMETHING!” And oh, how Mulder wished he could.
Through the cacophony of his own failings one voice broke through. The only one that ever had. Hers. She stood before him with her keys in one hand, the other reaching out to take his, “Mulder, I hope you know how much I love you.”
The warmth of her touch broke through his reverie and he finally allowed his eyes to meet hers. The glass barrier between them shattered and so did his heart. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling, mirroring the ones she shed. His voice barely sounded like his own, “I understand, Scully. I love you. I’m sorry.”
As he saw the sadness on her face, he wanted to wrap her up in his arms. To hold her and never let go. But he knew that comfort couldn’t come from the source of a person’s sorrow. So instead, he offered no resistance when her hand slipped from his, leaving her key behind in his palm.
The next thing he heard was the thud of the door as it closed, it had a deafening finality. Then there was nothing. It was as though the world had simply stopped. Even the voices in his head were silenced by their own grief. He welcomed it, because the only sound that would bring him comfort was the one he knew he may never hear again, his favourite song, “Mulder, it’s me.”
He turned on the TV to break the silence and maybe even give himself something else to focus on. After an hour of mindlessly flipping through the channels he turned it off and lay on the couch. His eidetic memory took over and in the darkness all he could see was her. Twenty years of recollections that felt like they now belonged to someone else, to the man he was before. He could remember the exact sound of her laugh as they stood in the pouring rain in Oregon three days after he met her. Why couldn’t he remember the last time he heard it?
Sleep must have claimed him at some stage in the early hours because the sunlight was streaming through the living room window when he awakened. Then he heard a repeat of the sound that he realised had roused him from his sleep, a gentle knock at the door.
For a brief moment he allowed himself to believe that it was Scully. She must have realised she didn’t know how to live without him either. She had left her key so she would need to knock! But then he remembered what he loved about her. She was always sure and steady. She didn’t leave on a whim and so there was no way that she had changed her mind. It couldn't be her standing on the other side of the door.
He had decided not to answer when he heard a familiar voice. “Fox? Are you there?”
His resolve faded and before he could really think, his hand was on the door handle. He opened the door and she took one look at him before closing the gap and wrapping her arms around him. Maggie Scully was the embodiment of grace and love, just what a mother should be. She had adopted him as her son long before his relationship with her daughter made him her de facto son-in-law. And so, he allowed the tears to fall again, safe in the knowledge that she would help him to wipe them away.
Maggie moved past him to sit on the couch, instinctively picking up the comforter and folding it on her way to sit down. He moved to sit next to her, “Does she know you’re here?”
“Well you know I’m no liar, Fox,” she said with a smile, “so I slipped out before Dana woke up.”
Of course she was at her mother’s house. Where else would she go? Some part of him felt better just knowing where she was in the world. He couldn’t deny that having his second favourite Scully sitting next to him was also bringing him comfort. But he knew he didn't deserve comfort.
“Mrs Scully …” She glared at him with a look he had seen a thousand times before. “Maggie …” He struggled to find the words he needed.
She placed a hand on his forearm, “Fox, I didn’t come here to pry or for any sort of explanation. I’m just here to make sure that you’re okay.”
“I don’t know that I have an explanation, but I know that I let things get to the point that she left.” It felt oddly cathartic to put words to it, even if he hated how they sounded. He turned to face her, he needed to look in her eyes so she would know he was sincere when he said, “Maggie, I am so sorry.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, Fox.”
He looked at her face and could tell that she meant it, but he couldn’t accept it. “I did the one thing I promised you that I’d never do. I hurt her.”
“Fox, you loved her, you *love* her” Maggie countered, “and that love is why I don’t need to hear you say you’re sorry.”
He didn’t know what he had done to deserve such kindness from this wonderful woman. He opened his mouth to protest, to take the blame for driving away the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Maggie silenced him with the same look that her daughter had given him a million times. “I don’t doubt that you have things to apologise for, but I am certain that Dana does too. You both built this life together Fox, you are not strong enough to knock it down completely by yourself, even if it feels like you did most of the damage.”
She gave him a gentle smile and they sat in silence for just a moment, her words slowly taking root. Maggie had planted a small seed of hope in the wreckage of his heart and all he had to do now was nurture it.
“What do I do now?” he asked, knowing that she was the only one who could give him the answer.
“Give her some time.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she got up from her seat. “I don’t know what happens next, but I know that this is not the end.”
He wished he had her optimism but he couldn’t help but feel like there was no way back for them. “How can you be so sure?”
“A mother knows these things,” she smiled. “Have a little faith!”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “You talk to the man upstairs more than I do, Maggie. Surely after all these years you must know that I’m a lost cause?”
She met his eyes with quiet affection, “I’ve heard you say it often enough,” she said gently, “but we both know that doesn’t make it true.”
“You know you haven’t lost her, Fox. And you haven’t lost me either. No matter how lonely you feel just remember you’re never alone.” She gave his hand a squeeze.
"I know," he replied, squeezing back, "Thank you, Maggie."
He lifted her hand to take a look at her watch, "You had better get going, you have to sneak back into the house before your daughter realises you've been here!" She laughed and he did too, in spite of himself.
She gave him a wink and a knowing smile as they moved towards the door, “I need to call into the store on the way home to pick up those groceries I went out for an hour ago.” Of course Maggie had planned a way to tell Dana where she’d been without telling a lie. He really did love her beautiful soul.
She gave him another quick hug and with that she was gone. Off to begin her work mending the other half of this broken whole.
The sound of the closing door was quieter this time, less final because now there was hope that one day it just might open again.