Title - Decennial
Author - Stacey Oziel
E-Mail address - CleverGrrl@aol.com
Rating - PG
Category - VA
Spoilers - The Unnatural
Keywords - Mulder/Scully friendship
Summary - Three years down the road, Scully makes
the most difficult decision of her life.

Distribution - To ATXC and Gossamer. Elsewhere, please ask.

Disclaimer - In a perfect world, Mulder and Scully would
belong only to each other. In the real world, they belong
to 1013 Productions.

Author's Note - I haven't written a story in ages.
I guess I was just inspired. :)

This is *not* a heartwarming story, although
I'm sure noromos will love it. In fact, it will
probably infuriate some people. I simply can't
wait for the feedback. *gulp*


***************
Decennial
***************

"Good night, Mulder."

He looks up quickly from his paperwork, metal-trimmed
glasses falling temporarily askew. With a quick flick
of his index finger, he rights them impatiently.

"Good night?" Mulder glances at his watch, furrowing
his brow. "C'mon, Scully. We have some unfinished business
here." As if to convince me, he indicates the piles
of case notes scattered every which way on the tables
surrounding us.

If he thinks that's a lure, I'm not biting.

I resist the temptation to sigh heavily - a sound I've
probably made a thousand times today. "And I have a life,
Mulder." The snappish irritation in my voice surprises
even me, and I dip my chin with the briefest of
apologies. "I have some stuff to do at home."

Good. My voice evened out. It doesn't sound stretched
to the limit, doesn't reek of tension and irritation
and desperation.

All of which I'm feeling right now. They're fighting
it out inside my gut, those emotions. Swimming, darting,
penetrating. They're nearly woven into my flesh.
Practically encoded in my betraying, cancer-prone,
quasi-alien DNA.

I turn my head, but my eyes stay locked on his face.

>From his expression - the look I've seen so many
times it's started to engrave itself upon his aging
skin - he's surprised, as always. Surprised
that I could possibly feel things as strongly as
he does, and surprised that I have the guts to
make that known to him.

I suddenly feel the muscles in my jaw clench
with familiar, long-stewing sadness. Is that
how well he thinks he knows me?

Mulder stands slowly, stalking around the desk
between us like a gazelle suddenly becoming aware
of a lioness. I bite my lip, resisting the temptation
to utter an ill-timed laugh.

"What's going on?" His voice has the quality of
someone tiptoeing across a creaky pine floor. It's
tentative, cautious, wary, and - something
I didn't notice before - downright fatigued.

I clear my throat. Pity, I tell myself, is not
an option. Neither is compassion, but I think
I'm losing the battle on that one.

"Mulder, go home."

He gapes at me incredulously. "Scul--"

"Go home," I snap, cutting him off. "Mulder, get out
of here. Take your eyes away from these same four
walls. Give your senses some new experiences. Go to
a bar. Get plastered. Get laid. Find a woman, Mulder,
and give her a good time. If you do, she'll return
the favor. Then maybe you'll have a good time together."

The ensuing silence is just as shocked and painful
as I'd wanted it, but it didn't feel good to say.
I knew it wouldn't.

But he needed to hear it.

"That's bullshit," he pronounces finally, his eyes
rock-hard and narrowed to slits. "Sanctimonious
bullshit. Who are you to talk about living, Scully?
Who are you to talk about love? I haven't seen you
happy since I helped you swing a bat on the baseball
diamond, trying something new - being something other
than yourself for once."

Oh, boy. That last comment was below the belt, and I
feel anger rising, close to reaching the boiling point.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Mulder?"

"Do I have to spell it out to you?" The veins in his
neck are puffing out. I see his face turn bright red.

My arms fold tightly across my chest. "Please do.
Since you apparently deem me incapable of acting
outside the boundaries of my own creation, please
enlighten me." I can feel sarcasm dripping from my
pores. For once, I make no effort to subdue it.

To my surprise, he looks stricken, but I feel no
satisfaction from this. Without warning, Mulder
walks toward me with stumbling, impatient steps,
until he's about an inch away.

He's so close to me that I actually feel uncomfortable.
That's something I've never felt, not in all the years
we've worked together.

He knows my body language like the back of his
hand, and I know his face like my own. Which
means he can sense my discomfort... and I can sense his.

"Am I invading your personal space?" he says, hurt,
mocking my obvious displeasure at his closeness. His
eyes find mine, locking on tight. His posture is rueful,
angry... but somehow apologetic.

I can feel my mind flail as I try to remember why
I started this.

And why this conversation suddenly became about me.

"Stand back," I say coldly, my eyes intentionally distant.

Mulder recoils and steps back, and before his face can
freeze into a stiffly painful mask, I catch a glimpse
at the searing wound my icy formality has dealt him.

My heart sinks into my shoes, and I curse myself. Against
my most valient attempts, I feel horribly guilty for
hurting my partner this way.

But that's not what I'm doing, I remind myself in a rhetoric
that's become so familiar to me over the past few months.
This is the only way to give him what he's been fighting
for for longer than even I can remember.

"Mulder," I begin again, my voice cutting through the tense
silence, "this has nothing to do with me. It never has. I
tell you that you should go find happiness, and you immediately
think of how that could also apply to me." My shoulders
slump forward, and I shake my head. "You shouldn't define
who you are by who I am, Mulder. We're two different people,
moving in two different circles."

Mulder gives a harsh, choked laugh. "Different." He
ponders the word, and his eyes grow soft and sad.
"Scully, I don't want to make you feel trapped.
That's the last thing in the world I'd *ever* want."

I blink at the sad irony of his words. He doesn't
realize, not even now, that my presence in his life
is the worst kind of trap. That I don't share his
feelings, and our relationship has suffered for it.

That he's been at a standstill for so long he doesn't
realize that everyone else is in motion.

He moves closer to me, tentatively this time, but I
stand my ground, forced - as usual - to crane my neck
so I can look at his face.

"I know what you're doing, Scully. I see what this is."

"No, Mulder, I don't think you do." I want to sound angry
and strident, but I can hear the undercurrent of gentle
concern in my voice.

I can't help myself. I can't erase ten years of
emotional coexistance with the blink of an eye,
and I don't particularly want to try.

He sighs, but I don't just hear it - I feel the
warm release of air on my face, bringing on a
slow-spreading tingle across my cheeks.

My pulse quickens and my palms grow sweaty.
I still marvel at the power he has, by his
mere physical presence, to send me into a
tormented tailspin.

But it's not enough. Not anymore.

For either of us.

But there's no room for regret. No time for hesitation.
Mulder has a life to live, buried under so many layers
of indecision and obsession and habit that he's
forgotten how to live it.

I brace myself for the final attack, knowing that
I'll be regretting my next words for years to come.

"Mulder, this is over. It's over." My voice catches, and
I hate myself for giving into the sadness I'd trained
myself to ignore.

I watch him react, blinking, his eyes widening. To
my surprise, he doesn't look shocked. Doesn't look angry.
Just sadder than the day his father died, and possibly
more hopeless.

I thought I'd never see that expression again. Now that I
am, it's taking all my strength to resist enfolding him
in my arms as I did so long ago. Supporting a faltering
human being I so respected and admired whose world was
ending before my eyes.

But I have to resist it. One ounce of regret, and
this may as well be over.

"We've worked together for a long time," I begin,
softening my tone but keeping it cool. "We've been
there for each other, Mulder. No one could deny that."

Despite myself, a tear I didn't even know was there
runs down my cheek, and I watch Mulder swallow,
his eyes desperately searching my face.

He's looking for me, I realize. Looking for the person
he thought he knew.

This thought threatens to crack my practiced
coolness like nothing before it, but I clench
my jaw and force myself to plow forward.

"You've been hurt so many times in your life," I
say softly. "You've lost so many things that are
important to you. And I've lost, too, Mulder.
When people share experiences - share loss -
they gain something. They have a history."

As I think about what I'm about to say next, I
can't stop myself from trembling, and my cheeks
turn wet with tears. I can see the effect my
expression has on Mulder.

I swallow, suddenly understanding the necessity
of finishing this while I still can. "What we
really are, Mulder, is two perfect strangers who've
shared the most intimate of times. And I thank you
for that. But it's got to end here. I'm sorry,"
I finish softly, trying not to feel ashamed for
the poison I've fed him.

Now Mulder begins to shiver, probably holding
back tears of his own. I can't help admiring his
composure at a time like this, and I respect him
all the more for it.

"Scully..." He draws a ragged breath, and he
swallows again, his eyes veiling with moisture.
"Did I... what did I... is it..."

"Nothing you've done," I say firmly, shaking my head.

I can feel the shame and guilt in him as clearly
as if I were feeling it myself. But his guilt is
no longer my responsibility.

I suddenly feel as if a burden's been lifted from
both our lives. I give a smile filled with hope.

"I'm flying to New York tomorrow," I tell him,
swallowing to rid myself of a painful lump in my
throat. "I've been selected as the assistant deputy
pathologist at Edward M. Hilton Medical Center. It's
what I want, and it's for the best."

"I don't understand." His jaw muscles flex, and his eyes
focus narrowly upon mine.

I shrug with forced casualness, looking away. "I'm moving on.
You and I both know it's time."

Mulder's tired eyes are red, and his stubbled face is
streaked with tears. I refuse to look at him, preferring
instead to feign impatience by glancing at my watch.

"Why now?" he says softly. "After everything..."

"It's just *because* of everything. If I stay here, I
go nowhere. I want to embrace change, Mulder. I want to
see that eager, inquisitive, idealistic young woman
I once was. I miss her."

Words cannot describe the guilt I feel at this statement,
but I keep my facial muscles frozen so he won't suspect
a thing.

He just doesn't realize what I'm giving him. I know
he will in time, but now, he's just feeling betrayed
and responsible. I'd give anything to spare him the
pain I know he's feeling, but I know that pain is
part of the process of growth, and he needs it as
much as he needs air to breathe.

I reach out to touch his arm, unwilling to end a ten
year relationship with nothing but distance and silence.

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to change
your mind," Mulder says, but we both know it's a
statement, not a question. There's a gleam of
understanding in his eye.

I shake my head, giving him a sad, distant smile.

Mulder nods stiffly, assuming a professional stance
I haven't seen since the day we first met. "Then I
guess I should wish you luck."

I nod automatically. "Thank you."

Impulsively, he reaches out to grasp my shoulder,
and brings me to him, giving me a gentle, painful
kiss on the cheek.

I pull away, giving him a tight smile.

"It was an honor working with you," I say, my voice thick
with sadness and history.

His eyes grow moist again, and his breathing grows ragged.
"The honor was mine, Scully."

I shake my head, preparing myself to deal him a final
blow. "My name is Dana."

I walk out the door, averting my eyes from him, painfully aware
what devastating power my simple words have always held upon
my partner.

I close the door behind me for the last time, and walk down
the empty hallway. It's not until I reach the elevator that I
allow the tears to fall.

-------------------------------
The End

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