From: claypotato@netscape.net   
      
   WITH BETTER LIGHT   
      
   by Rae Lynn   
   (claypotato_AT_netscape.net)   
      
   RATING: G   
      
   CLASSIFICATION: V   
      
   SPOILERS: "The Field Where I Died"   
      
   KEYWORDS: Post-episode.  Mulder/Scully UST.   
      
   ARCHIVE: Please inquire within.   
      
   SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully talk after "The Field Where I Died."   
      
   DISCLAIMER: All characters contained within are the property of Chris   
   Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions.  No profit will result from this   
   story and no copyright infringement is intended.   
      
   _________________________________________   
      
   It is past dark by the time Scully is ready to leave.  But before she   
   can follow her instincts and flee the town of Apison, Tennessee without   
   so much as a backwards glance, she thinks ruefully, she must find   
   Mulder.  Scully's suspicion is that if she does not make the trek out to   
   the field at the Seven Stars compound to retrieve her partner from his   
   reverie, he may in fact stand out there forever -- or at least long   
   enough to let himself be invaded by another past life.   
      
   Mulder, who stands immobile, may be playing his own private game of   
   Statues, or he may have actually, physically turned to stone.  Scully is   
   perversely relieved to see goosebumps on Mulder's arms.  It is her own   
   game, one that she plays only after particularly harrowing cases, and   
   the rules are simple: Points for any signs that Mulder is still alive.   
   Bonuses for indications that his cognitive functions are intact.   
   Conclusive proof that no further damage has been done to his psyche?   
   That, the jackpot, is beyond Scully's reach of hope.   
      
   Instinctively she touches his arm.  "Mulder, you're cold," she says by   
   way of greeting -- Mulder will expect this from her.  Mulder shakes his   
   head mechanically; sometimes it seems to her as though his penchant for   
   disagreeing with her is an automated response in him, as natural as   
   blinking or breathing.   
      
   "I'm fine," he says.   
      
   Mulder has been lying to her like this for years.   
      
   Scully chooses, as always, to take it in stride.  "Mulder," she begins,   
   "it's natural to feel affected by what happened..."   
      
   It is, she thinks as she trails off, possibly her most useless attempt   
   at a consolation speech since her words at his mother's bedside months   
   before.  Truthfully, Scully has never felt entirely comfortable   
   comforting others after a tragedy; it is why she became a pathologist,   
   why Mulder seems to appreciate it when the two of them pretend their   
   mutual catastrophes have never happened.  It is Mulder who has always   
   been the empathetic one; just weeks from now Scully will accuse him of   
   wearing his heart on his sleeve, of exposing his private vulnerabilities   
   for the world to see.  Maybe, Scully thinks, it is Mulder's   
   vulnerabilities, and his willingness to reveal them, that give him the   
   strength at which she has always marveled.   
      
   "Come on," Scully says quietly.  "Let's go home."   
      
   "To what home, Scully?" Mulder says idly.  On the Mulder mood meter,   
   Scully thinks, he is trying hard for "casual" but has already been badly   
   betrayed by the croak in his voice.   
      
   "To Hamilton County?  To Warsaw?"   
      
   Scully sighs, knowing even as her breath escapes her that it will be   
   audible enough against the wind for Mulder to hear.   
      
   "Mulder..."   
      
   "I know you don't believe in it, Scully," Mulder says, turning his face   
   into the breeze.   
      
   "I was raised Catholic, Mulder," she responds patiently.  "But even if I   
   hadn't been..."   
      
   Mulder turns back to her, looking vaguely interested.  Clearly, Scully   
   thinks, he has expected some kind of pseduo-scientific diatribe about   
   the unlikelihood of the reincarnating cycle of souls, and her comment   
   about religion has managed, for once, to surprise him.   
      
   "Even if you hadn't been, what?" he says.   
      
   "I believe that one lifetime is enough," Scully says with finality.   
      
   Mulder forces a small smile.  "Guess you were never big on do-overs as a   
   kid then, huh?"   
      
   Scully manages to smile back.  "No," she agrees.  "No, my siblings got   
   no second chances."   
      
   The words seem to knock Mulder right back into melancholy.  "Is that   
   what you think reincarnation is about, Scully?  Second chances?"   
      
   Scully considers her partner carefully.  Difficult to read at even the   
   simplest of times, on this case he has lapsed into complete   
   inscrutability.  Scully prides herself on her ability to stand toe to   
   toe with Mulder even when she knows she will be telling him exactly what   
   he doesn't want to hear.  But in Tennessee, Scully finds herself unable   
   to figure out what it is that Mulder does want.  Every answer, she   
   realizes, may be the wrong one.   
      
   "It's my understanding," she says neutrally, "that those who do believe   
   in reincarnation often view it as a way to atone for past mistakes in a   
   new life."   
      
   "In that case," Mulder replies, tilting his head back to look up at the   
   few stars that are beginning to appear in the sky, "I have enough to   
   atone for in this one."   
      
   "Mulder," Scully says, wondering when the sound of his name became a   
   private shorthand for a thousand other things, "you can't blame yourself   
   for what happened to Melissa Riedel."   
      
   He spreads his arms as if expecting Scully to recognize a target on his   
   chest.  "Can't I?" he says.  "I played her the tapes.  She told me she   
   wanted to believe them."   
      
   Scully feels herself trying and failing not to react to Mulder's words.   
     Maybe she and Mulder really have been friends together in other   
   lifetimes, always; Scully is certainly exhausted enough to feel as   
   though she has been partnered with Mulder for several millennia.  Scully   
   has a sudden image of the poster in Mulder's basement office replicated   
   on a cave wall while a female Neanderthal with red hair laboriously   
   scratches in the word DON'T between the I and the WANT.   
      
   "She told me she'd want to start over," Mulder continues in a low voice.   
     "To end this pointless life."   
      
   "Mulder, if it were true," Scully says slowly, trying to shake her head   
   of the cave image, "if you were destined to spend your life with certain   
   people, certain...moments...then no life would be pointless."   
      
   For a moment, Mulder looks at her strangely, with the scrutinizing gaze   
   Scully has always found unnerving, and she senses there is more to   
   Mulder's conversation with Melissa than he has revealed to her.   
      
   "If it is true," he finally muses, "it means our souls can never be at   
   rest.  That we're destined to keep searching, suffering near misses in   
   all these various lifetimes until some cosmic coincidence finally makes   
   things right."   
      
   Scully has no idea whether Mulder is referring to himself and her or to   
   himself and Melissa, and she thinks it wiser not to ask.  Instead she   
   reaches for his arm again, relieved when he doesn't flinch or pull away.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)