Subject: NEW: 'Low Place Like Home' (1/1) by Catwoman Reply-To: TheCatwoman@toosexyforyou.com Classification: V, A, (What's the classification for Post-Episode?) Keywords: UST, Pusher, Kitsunegari, Post-Kitsunegari, Mulderangst, Scullyangst, TheRiftII... Rating: This one, again, is for anyone. G? PG? You decide. Note: This is a short one, guys. (Especially for me.) Low Place Like Home By Catwoman Disclaimer: All the characters herein are the property of CC, 1013, and Fox. You all know the drill. The quotes are from 'Low Place Like Home' by the Sneaker Pimps (hence the name of the story). Distribute: Please post to XF Fanfic and ATXC. DO NOT POST TO GOSSAMER. It is already there. Thanx. PLEASE NOTE THAT IF YOU ARE READING THIS ONA NEWSGROUPOR MAILING LIST, UNLESS YOU SEND FEEDBACK TO THE FOLLOWING ADDRESS I WILL NOT RESPOND: TheCatwoman@toosexyforyou.com THANX Spoilers: You should know about the cancer (duh!) and you should have seen 'Pusher' and 'Kitsunegari.' Note: Hello again. This is the second story I'm posting. Let me know what you think. Goodbye again. Summary: So, what happened right after the meeting with Skinner? 'That you should know my heart; look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you...is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for the continuance of a journey that began not so long ago, and which began, again, with a faith shaken and strengthened by your convictions, if not for which I might never have been so strong now as I cross to face you and look at you incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you.' ***** You walked all over In your blunderstones In your own road movie With your one-armed man Gonna make it to the problem page Troubleshoot your life Gonna make it to the problem page Need some time and space just to find yourself I hope you find yourself In a low place like home Low place like home ***** Mulder walked out of Skinner's office feeling thoroughly drained and overall, as he'd told Skinner, like he'd lost. And worst of all, now he had to face Scully. They hadn't spoken since she'd shot Linda Bowman. He'd remained silent and off to the side while she'd worked on the killer, waiting for the ambulance to come; he simply hadn't been able to talk to her at that moment. He'd spent the whole time biting down, so hard he'd drawn a bit of blood, on his tongue to keep himself from crying or screaming or doing something that would have been natural in that situation if he were anyone but himself and if he were with anyone but her. He'd just watched his partner kill herself. He'd stood by and watched. But it hadn't been her. She was alive, and she'd been there, calmly keeping the woman pusher alive. And luckily for Mulder, she hadn't wanted to talk either. Mulder leaned against the wall outside Skinner's office, ignoring the sympathetic gaze of Eileen, Skinner's secretary. He closed his eyes, trying to gather some semblance of strength before he strode down the corridor, past the wary gazes and the accusing eyes and the whispers of what Spooky had done now. He had to look confidant. He had to look in control. He had to be strong for Scully. He took a deep breath and walked down the hallway. It wasn't as bad as he'd expected it to be, but the same looks, the same whispers were there. Something would have been seriously wrong if they hadn't been. Or it would have meant that for once he'd done something right, as Skinner had suggested. But Mulder didn't feel like he'd done anything right. First he'd stood by and watched the image of his partner kill herself, without even trying to stop her until it was far too late. Then he'd almost killed the real one. He hadn't been able to tell what was going through Scully's head. Was she angry? Was she sorrowful? Was she simply emotionless, as she had been so many times recently...ever since the cancer? He dreaded what she really was feeling, since it couldn't have been good. But especially the emotionally indifferent state...that was the worst. It was like she would go sort of...emotionally catatonic...and it killed him inside every time he saw her that way. She was letting them steal her life. And he was letting her let them, because he didn't know what to do about it. ***** You talked it over from your bedroom throne Making sense of nothing With your one-armed man Read your future in the magazine Search the stars for clues Read your future in the magazine Tells you what to lose just to find yourself I hope you find yourself In a low place like home Low place like home ***** He jumped as the elevator chimed, letting him know that he'd reached the basement. Maybe Scully had already gone home, he hoped as he walked down the hall towards his office. He stopped outside the door and leaned on it for a moment, once again gathering strength and courage, and then he opened the door and walked inside, closing it behind himself. She was sitting behind her desk, glasses on, filing away the last of the paperwork on the Pusher case. Mulder forced himself to keep moving, to go around behind his desk, to start gathering his own papers to go home. He stopped short, however, when he finally realized that her eyes were on him. She was watching him, not bothering to hide her concern, her eyes deep and round and blue behind her reading glasses. She slowly closed the file, never taking her eyes off of him. "Look, Scully, I..." he began, studiously avoiding directly meeting her gaze. "You're sorry?" she said before he could get that far. "For what? Mulder, it isn't your fault." "I almost killed you, Scully..." he tried again, but she cut him off again. "You had good reason to. You thought I was her. I understand that." "But Scully..." "No buts, Mulder. You can't take the blame on this one. You simply can't," she pushed herself back from the table. Yup. She was in the emotionally indifferent state. Trying to push her way out of it, but obviously not succeeding---which inherently caused the annoyance which was displayed in the tight set of her brow. She walked over to the filing cabinet and practically slammed open the drawer, then jammed in the file and slammed the drawer shut again. Her body tense as a tight-rope, she started across the room, taking up her purse as she went. But just as she started to pass her desk, she faltered, then stopped. She put her purse down again and let out a long, laborious sigh. "Mulder, I'm sorry too," she said quietly. "I should've listened to you...I shouldn't have just assumed that because you'd been pushed, you weren't thinking clearly..." She breathed deeply in and out. "After all these years you'd think I'd learn, wouldn't you?" she chuckled ruefully. "You're always thinking clearly." He chuckled in return. "Not always," he said dryly. "Don't think that. I couldn't hold myself up to that standard." He felt rather than saw her smile, even it if was tiredly and with some measure of almost despair. "Goodnight, Mulder," she whispered. "Don't try to think about it too much." She started for the door again, and this time it was him who stopped her. He walked up behind her and reached out, grabbing her by the shoulder and roughly pulling her back, just as he'd done once a long time ago in a claustrophobic little storage room in the middle of the Arctic. And she gasped, just as she'd done then, and dropped her purse, where it was forgotten for the next few moments at her feet. He pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms around her middle, burying his face in the back of her neck, deeply breathing in the scent that was so characteristically Scully. He'd almost lost her again; he needed to memorize her. She apparently understood, for she didn't move away; instead she placed her own warm hands over his and gently ran her fingers along his while he rocked himself, and therefore both of them, slowly from side to side. "I watched you kill yourself," he whispered shakily in her ear, and she felt the heated moisture of his tears falling on her shoulder. "I watched you die. And I didn't do anything about it. Just like Sam. I watched her be taken. I didn't do anything about it." "No, Mulder, not like Sam," Scully shook her head adamantly, and her fingers tightened over his. "I'm still here." "But I couldn't..." his words were lost on a sob. "I know," she murmured, and one hand came up to run back through his hair. "I know." He cried into her hair for a total of two minutes before he backed away, finally releasing her. She turned to face him, her hands coming up to rest lightly on his arms while he tried to compose himself, reaching up to rub away tears and blushing slightly red as the full realization of what had just happened hit him. Scully smiled endearingly and pushed away his hands, then used her small, deft fingers to gently wipe the tears and the redness off his cheeks. "I'm still here," she reminded him in a whisper, and she gave him a quick hug before she turned around and picked up her purse for the third and final time. She left the office quietly and smoothly, leaving him standing alone. "For now," he agreed sorrowfully, and closed his eyes. "But for how much longer?" THE END 'I've heard the truth, Mulder. But not when I wanted the answers.' **So, whatcha think?**Flames will be used to decorate the Catacomb**