Title: The Three Swords

Author: Claire Doyle

Disclaimer: Hear me, O readers! I say unto you that we own the X-Files. We keep it on the air, and we keep 1013 productions, and the cast and crew of the X-Files employed. Fox has other shows that keep it popular, and though they claim to own them (or at least Rupert Murdoch does), the shows, including the X-Files, it's characters, and affiliates, belong to we, the viewers. Fox Broadcasting, that claims to own the above mentioned items, is on a megalomaniacal ego trip. That is the spew from the coffee guru.

Rating: As always, PG to PG-13

Spoilers: The End, and the Series in General. Pretend the movie didn't happen.

Summary: Mulder leaves Scully behind, this time, he believes, for good, but she and the other world have other ideas in mind.

Dedication: To all dreamers, and all of my readers. And this time, for my dad, whose genetics gave me my creativity, such as it is, and whose wallet provided my computer.:)

And now: On with the show.

Well, they did it. I can't really figure out how, but they did. Somehow the fire caused him to snap. It was the end of the legacy of Fox Mulder, and his partner, Dana Scully. That was the last night that I saw him. After he gently pushed me away without so much as a word, he walked out. I assumed that he needed some time to himself, so I let him go, never thinking that my last image of him would be his retreating back as I stood in a pile of ash and rubble.

He didn't report to work the next day. Or the day after that. I had called him on both days, never receiving an answer, only his machine. After a week, I drove over to his apartment, already knowing what I would find. Quickly I ran up the stairs, praying to my God and every other spirit in the universe that I would find him there. No such grace was given me on that day. I knocked on the door for a good five minutes, then let myself in with the key.

It was worse than I expected. All that remained was the couch. Not a book, not even that damn fish tank. Just the couch. I remember him lying there that night, before we got that dreaded call. It was as if I was in the room with a stranger. He was so cold, so distant. Was it at that moment that he decided to leave? Or was it later, when he saw the ruins of his work? Either way, he was gone.

As I sat on that same couch, shocked at what I found, or didn't find as the case may be, my phone rang. "Scully," I said, in the same tone that I would have said 'death.'

"Scully, I need you to come down to headquarters immediately. I have something I need to discuss with you-"

"Mulder resigned, didn't he sir? He sent the letter in on a fax so that he wouldn't have to do it in person, and he did it through some company that will prove to be untraceable."

There was a moment of silence on the other line. Then, "Yes, Scully, that is exactly what happened. How did you know?"

"Because, sir, I'm sitting in Mulder's very empty apartment at the moment. I have no idea where he's gone, and I haven't been able to get a hold of him in a week. I'm sure that you will soon receive a package in the mail from him which will contain his badge and gun." I was numb, and didn't care anymore. Mulder had just walked out of my life after being the essence of it for five years. I didn't know what to do.

"Thank you, agent. I assume that you'll want to take some personal time off after all of this?"

Ah, Skinner, how little you know me. "Just a day sir, and after that I will report back to you for my next assignment." Which will most likely be a desk job keeping me out of trouble. We said our goodbyes and I turned off the phone. Then I stood, walked out of the apartment, locked it, and never looked back. I didn't start crying until I was a mile away.

I attempted to suppress some of the past five years, and at least dull the constant pain of the gaping wound that he had left behind him. I was trying unsuccessfully to fool myself into believing that I would be able to forget him and the X-Files and. . .him. That insufferable bastard that left was the one and only man that I would love for the rest of my life.

I had stayed in D.C., purposely not running because he had. I knew of a few places where I might have been able to find him if I tried hard enough. But it was obvious that he didn't want me to find him. So I remained at the Bureau, silent, withdrawn, once again earning my name Ice Queen, and a new one, the Widow Spooky. It was that one that caused my anger to flare like nothing else could.

It was months before I even got an inkling that he was alive. And again, the information didn't come from him. This time I had a dream, or a vision, as he would have called it.

I was standing on a mountain, in the center of a flat plain. On one side was an immense blackness. On the other side he stood, with a white sword in hand. I wore a simple shift, made of black, and on the ground lay three swords. One was black, one was white, and one was steel grey. I picked up the black one, and immediately I was filled with the blackness that stood to the right of me. I struck out with the sword, and killed Mulder with one swipe. Then I realized what I had done, and dropped the sword as I ran to his side. I cradled his body in my arms and wept as the blackness came and passed over the two of us, leaving me forever in my agony.

I awoke in a cold sweat, realizing that one of my choices in this life that I had was to cause Mulder the pain that he was causing me without asking reason why. I now knew in my heart of hearts, that there was some other, greater reason that Mulder left me, and it was not simply because he was running. Maybe it had to do with the letters that I was receiving. Uncomfortable in my thoughts, I went back to sleep.

Again I was on the mountain, and there was the same situation, and the dress that I wore was grey now, the same grey as the sword that I reached down to pick up. This sword filled me with apathy, and I stepped off of the mountain, between he and the blackness, and though he fought to his last breath, the darkness overtook him, and he became one with it. This time was worse than the last, because now the only thing that I could cry over was the empty plain where I now kneeled, alone, as I had chosen to be.

This dream was worse than the last. I realized that this was the path that I was choosing. I was letting Mulder battle the demons inside and outside of him on his own. Though I thought that it was his own choosing, and he wanted to go at it alone, it was his way of trying to spare me any more hurt than I had already gone through. And if I let him continue on his cold solo journey, then one day I was going to wake up and learn that he had died. Or I would find him, but too late, and he would be the one smoking cigarettes and dealing out death sentences to the world. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't. For the last time that night, I fell back against the pillows and slept.

This time the darkness seemed larger, more ominous, and Mulder, while no less magnificent, seemed to be belittled by the darkness. I looked down to see the three swords again at my feet, and I chose the white one. As I laid my hand on it, I was enveloped in a light. My garment was as dazzlingly white as the sword I carried, and both it and my clothing emitted a light such as the stars would emanate. I walked down to Mulder's side, and we stood our ground against the blackness. It was no easy battle, and more than once we wondered if giving up would be the better choice. But we also knew that it was not so. On and on we fought, as the sun and moon traveled through the sky, each in its turn, many times. At last, just as the last of our strength was leaving us, we defeated the darkness. It dissipated, and was no more. I looked at him, and he at me, and for the first time he spoke. "Finally, you made the choice I knew you would. Now, I pray that you make it again, and this time make it count." Then he took my hand, and he kissed it. "Go, Scully, and find me, and be my savior yet again. For though I love you, I am too foolish to stay and say so. Rather I must leave you in order to realize how much you mean to me." As he bent his head to kiss my lips, I awoke, this time knowing full well in my heart what I had to do. I made two phone calls.

The plane departed for Boston one hour after I reserved my tickets. I brought little with me, I didn't need much. But I had one special package that I needed, or would need later. It wasn't hard to get a seat after identifying myself as F.B.I. I don't often pull rank, but I did this time. Once we landed, I rented a car and drove west, not east, knowing that he wasn't on the Vineyard, rather, he went away from it, from where he thought I would go. He should have known me better than that.

I made to Worcester in good time, knowing that he would stay here, and not go farther west, to Springfield, nor north to New Hampshire, nor south to Connecticut. He would go only as far as he thought was necessary to get away from me, at least until he thought that I stopped looking for him. I drove to the Worcester Sheraton after stopping to ask directions from the local law enforcement. Nice cops. No luck finding him there after looking through the registry for a good fifteen minutes for any alias he might have used. I finally figured that this place was too high class for him. I made a reservation for myself for the night, and then drove on, from one hotel to another, until I found a little hole in the wall motel off of Beacon Street. The Table Talk Motel. Cute. The guy at the front desk had no problem with showing me the registry. Nothing, nothing, nothing. . .aha, there it was. R. Redlum. What a poor excuse for a nom de plume. I found out his room, went and knocked on the door, and waited for thirty seconds before picking the lock.

Oh, it was his room alright. He had managed to spread his crap everywhere, and in record time. He could have been living here his entire life. But he wasn't there. Damn it. I did call the Gunmen to let them know that I had found him, or at least his stuff. He hadn't kept in touch with them either, and I let them know that their fellow paranoiac was still alive. They were happy, and wanted to know where I was, but before they could trace the call I hung up. I would tell them later, but I didn't need them here right at this moment.

I had two choices now. I could wait until Mulder came back, or I could go and find him. I always was impatient. I spent the next hour driving around Worcester, going into seedy bars downtown, and finding out more about the nightlife than I ever wanted to. I was not going into the nightclub, though I did ask the bouncer if he had seen him, and he said he hadn't. Frustrated, I was about to give up, when I had I saw something that gave me hope. A church. Well, luck hadn't helped, so I figured it was time to try faith.

The Cathedral of Peter and Paul. Hmm, two men, both on the same side, but with definitely different opinions. Sounded like the perfect place to get some inspiration on the whereabouts of my wayward partner. I sat in one of the pews, not really praying, at least not formally, just asking God for some help. Well, it came, but not in the form I expected it to. No flash of light, nothing of the sort. I heard a shuffling behind me, and looked up to see a priest coming down the aisle. "Good evening, Father," I said as he walked by.

"Good evening, young lady," he said with a pronounced Massachusetts accent. "Is there anything that I can do to be of assistance?"

"Not unless you can tell me where I can find a man, about six-two, thirty-eight years old, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Trim figure, probably wearing black?" I looked at him, waiting to see the pitying look of a priest that has just had a run in with a harmless lunatic. Instead, he looked rather surprised.

"Actually, that I can help you with. I saw him earlier today out in the garden in the front of the church, with a sort of lost look on his face. I went up to him and began to talk, much as I have been with you. He told me that he had lost someone close to him, and that it had been through his own fault. I assumed that he meant a family member, and I asked him. He said that he thought at first that it had been, but he realized that the person he had truly lost had been closer to him than that. Then, strangely, he asked me where he could go to get a tonic, a root beer, actually. I told him to go to the Miss Worcester diner, one of the historic eating places in this city, and a favorite place of mine to go. That was perhaps an hour ago. I assume that you are the person that he was referring to?" He looked at me knowingly.

I smiled sadly. "I can only hope so, so that he can know that he hasn't lost me." Then I stood. "Thank you for all of your help, Father."

"Good luck to the two of you, my dear." He began to walk away, and then stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot. I found this on the ground after he left." I gasped as I saw what it was.

Dangling from a small chain was a pendant, in the shape of a white sword. I reached forward to take it tentatively, not believing what I saw. "Thank you, Father. This means more to me than you could know." I put the chain around my neck, and walked out of the cathedral in a daze.

The Miss Worcester Diner, was, just as the priest had said, a landmark for the city. This I learned when again I sought directions from an officer. I was going to get to know them better than I knew most of my coworkers. I stood outside the door to the diner, afraid to go in. What if I had been wrong the whole time? What if the dreams that I had had been just dreams? What if he didn't want me, wasn't waiting for me, but rather for Samantha or Diana? <Calm down, Dana> I told myself. It didn't work. But I did distract myself long enough to push open the door.

At first I didn't see him, or anybody for that matter, and I was afraid that I had missed him. Then I saw him. He must have bent over for that second to pick up something. His back was to me, and I know that he hadn't heard me come in. Carefully, quietly, I walked up to him. Before I could turn tail and run, I said something. "Do you come here often?"

Quickly he turned around, his face turning from shock to recognition to joy. He smiled and my heart almost stopped. "Scully," he replied, and that one word held more emotion than I thought a word could bear. He slid out of his seat and wrapped his arms around me. My legs almost gave out and I collapsed against him. "I'm so sorry that I left, Scully. I didn't. . .I don't. . .I can't believe that you came after me."

"I had to, Mulder, don't you know that?"

"How did you find me?" he asked as he stepped away from me, but still not letting go, almost as though if he did, I would disappear.

I smiled. "Luck, faith, a priest, and the local law enforcement." He laughed, a sound that I never thought that I would hear again. That was the last straw. The tears started rolling down my face, and I couldn't control them. He pulled me back against him, and I knew that he was crying, too, but he didn't want me to see.

"You're too good to me, too good for me. I don't deserve you, Scully." He kissed the top of my forehead, and I thought that my heart would burst. Then he bent down to kiss me, and the world ceased to exist.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized that he had pulled away, and was looking at the pendant around my neck with a strange look on his face. I explained my story to him, and finished with, "but you weren't the one who dropped it?" He shook his head.

"No, but I think I know who did, and I think I know why." He looked at me intensely. "Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?"

"Mulder, you know that I-"

"Do you believe in angels, Scully?"

"I think it's possible that there are guardian spirits, whether of our own making or-"

"And are angels of this earth?"

"No, but I still don't see-"

"Then do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?"

Damn. He had me trapped. But I found that I didn't mind. I liked the fact that for once I could answer him with the answer he wanted to hear. "Yes, Mulder, I guess I do."

"Then I think that it was an extraterrestrial that left that for you to find."

Oh. Oh my God. Oh. "Then you're saying-"

"That the two of us were set up by a higher power? I'd say it's a fair bet. Come on, Scully, let's take a walk." He left some money on the counter, and we walked out into the night.

He started to explain to me why he left. "I didn't want you hurt anymore, Scully." Just like I had known. "I had caused my demons to become yours, and once the X-Files had burned, I assumed that you would be free of me, and, subsequently, of them. I left so that they wouldn't, couldn't bother you anymore. I thought that it was to free my own conscience so that I wouldn't feel guilty if something happened to you. I was wrong." He stopped me where we were. "I realized that if something did happen to you, then I wouldn't be able to go on. I can't go on without you Scully. I've learned that from being away from you for so long. I. . .I love you, Scully." He looked at me again, and this time I saw what he said reflected in his eyes. I didn't know how to respond, and then I glanced up where we were, in front of the cathedral.

"Do you know the story behind Peter and Paul, Mulder?"

"They were two of Christ's apostles."

"But beyond that. The two of them were the backbone of the Church after the Resurrection," I said, remembering my CCD classes of so long ago. "But they were completely different. One was a Roman citizen, the other a fisherman. One well-learned, and the other ignorant. But they both believed in the same God, a loving God. They had different ideas on the rules for the Church, from the requirements to join to the type of food that could be eaten, but they were both defenders of the same faith. And they died in the process of creating it. They were killed, in the same year, by the same man.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that we both need to remember that we have the same cause to fight for, even though we go about it differently. And we need to stay together in order to stay strong. I love you, Mulder. I hope that you know that. And I also hope that you know that, no matter how different our perspectives may be, I will never leave you because of that." I looked at him, waiting for a response.

"Thank you, Scully. That means more to me than you'll ever know."

"Mulder, I have one other thing for you." I reached into my trench, and pulled out the manila envelope. I handed it to him. "I hope that you'll be needing this." He opened it, and his badge spilled out into his hand.

He looked at it for a minute, and then at me. There were unspoken emotions in his eyes, and the only thing that he could say was, "Yes, I will." He then slipped it into his pocket, at the same time trying to regain control of himself.

We walked on, his hand on the small of my back, where it belonged. I didn't know what the future held for us. I hoped that the X-Files would reopen. If not, we would still have each other, and would find some way to work together, and stay together. We had battles to fight, and our swords were white and gleaming, ready to ward off what evil approached. And as long as we were together, we would be victorious. I knew that for a fact. Just call it women's intuition.

Thus comes the end of our tale.

Thank you for reading.

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