Title: Falling to Pieces
Author: Gillian Taylor
Email: usstrustno1@hotmail.com 
Website: http://horizonfiles.hispeed.com/X_Files/xtreme.htm
Rating: PG
Category: V, R, A, kind of AU
Spoilers: Requiem, This is Not Happening, DeadAlive (sort of) 
Keywords: MSR, Scully Angst 
Summary: This is the subject of her fragmented soul, 
science and fiction and truth so intermingled.

Archive: Gossamer, Ephemeral, anywhere. Just drop me a 
line so I can visit and get a cheap thrill out of 
having my story up somewhere where it can be appreciated. 

Disclaimer: Sadly, I can lay no claim to the characters 
from the X-Files. If I could, I would die a happy woman. 
Mulder, Scully, Byers, and Skinner belong to Ten Thirteen 
Productions and I'm only borrowing them for my own 
perverse enjoyment.

Author's notes: Thanks, as usual, go to my beta, Crysta. 
This story is a sequel to the stories Remnants and
Where Have all the Happily Ever Afters Gone?

"Falling to Pieces"
by Gillian Taylor

One streak of the brush, and a glimmer of gold appears, 
paranormal in its beauty on a piece of parchment of pure 
white. Another pass, and red appears, rampant in the 
color of blood that has covered her hands far too many 
times. Once again, and purple appears, the color of 
royalty and purpose, but no purpose resides behind her 
cornflower eyes. Again, and blue rolls across the canvas, 
the blue of eternity, the eternity that she has lost for 
all time.

The happily ever after that she had wished for and longed 
for with every breath in her being had disappeared like 
the white dissipated with each stroke of her brush. This 
time was supposed to be happy, a time of renewed love and 
celebration between herself and the man that lurked in her 
dreams. But that dream had been shattered like so many 
pieces of glass. Her soul lay shattered on the floor, and 
yet she could summon little desire to glue each piece 
together again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
And all the King's Horses and
all the King's men
couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.

Another brush stroke and the sun appeared, a falsely smiling 
face that spoke of childhood and joy despite the horror and 
sorrow that lurked beneath. Oh, how she wanted to erase that 
vile smile. It suggested that happiness lurked around the 
corner but she had no desire to be happy again. Then she 
felt her son squirm within her belly and she relented with 
the rush of love that the sensation induced. She might be 
happy again, in time, but for now she was alone with the 
memories.

Fragmented colors appeared before her in a chaotic display 
of sunset and moonrise. This was to be her son's room, a 
room where the intermesh of light and darkness, of night 
and day, can play before his youthful eyes. In this, she 
had found a measure of release. The influences of her 
strict science and his unrelenting belief appeared in every 
brush stroke. There a whimsical alien waves a chubby green 
hand, there the constellation of the Big Dipper rests poised 
to pour whatever it contains upon the slumbering earth below, 
and there the sun smiles forth in its golden beauty. This is 
the subject of her fragmented soul, science and fiction and 
truth so intermingled.

Dana Scully sat on a wall.
And Dana Scully had a great fall.
And all the FBI's horses
And all the FBI's men
Couldn't put Dana Scully together again.

The brush lay forgotten within the paint bucket as sob 
after wracking sob left her body. She was broken, but 
there was no tender touch to bring her back together. 
That gentle hand now lay six feet under ground, never 
to be seen or felt again.

The shrill ring of the telephone strove to interrupt her 
moment of pain, and she allowed it to, listening absently 
as her machine picked up the phone.

"Hi, you've reached Dana Scully. I'm not at home right now, 
so if you will please leave your name, your number, and a 
brief message I'll get back to you as soon as I can." Her 
too young voice was chipper, for it never bore the weight that 
she did now. She should have changed the message, for it no 
longer described who she was. She was broken.

"Agent Scully...Dana, it's Skinner. What we found five months 
ago was a lie. He's here, Dana, and he..."

She was up in an instant, and the paint can spilled onto the 
floor in her too hasty plunge to reach the phone, "Sir, I'm 
here."

"Thank God," the man's usual gruff voice was choked with 
emotion and shared pain, "Byers will be by to pick you up in 
ten minutes. Pack some extra clothes."

"Sir? Are you sure?" She never dared to hope anymore, for 
hope was the quickest path to travel to pain.

"Yes."

That one word echoed through her once deluded mind, bouncing 
with a joyfulness that she had no right to feel, not yet. 
"Is he ok?"

"He will be."

"I'll see you soon, sir," Scully murmured.

"We both will."

With the click of the phone, her world returned to its 
previous silence, but it was a silence filled with the purpose 
that she had once lost. There, each piece of her shattered soul 
was gathered together in hopeful hands to give to the one man 
that could put her together again.

****
Georgetown Memorial
ICU

A flash of red, purple, gold, and blue passed before her gaze 
as she wove her way among the nurses, aides, and doctors that 
crowded the ICU unit of Georgetown Memorial. Byers walked, 
unheeded, by her side for her gaze was riveted on the tall form 
of her superior.

"Sir," she said in a quivering voice as soon as she reached his 
side. Part of her hated the perceived indignity of hormones, but 
the major part of her was unable to give a damn.

"Scully." It was not Skinner's voice that responded, instead it 
was a too familiar, and much longed for, rasp of her name from the 
bed behind the Assistant Director.

Her breath hitched in her throat as Skinner moved aside to show 
her the one person that could ever hope to save her fragmented 
soul. His too dear face was bruised and battered, but it mattered 
not to the woman who stood in shock before him. "God...Mul..." 
And she was in motion, and in his arms in an instant. 
"Mulder...you're alive..."

"Last time I checked..." his voice whispered through her 
hair. "Something you want to tell me?"

"I...God...I missed you, love..." Each word was torn from her 
throat on the wings of every sob. His hands, his wonderful 
hands, soothed her as he murmured sweet nothings into her hair. 
And for one complete moment, she found her happily ever 
after...just as she knew that her happily ever after would 
last for all time.

Dana Scully sat on a wall
Dana Scully had a great fall
and only Fox Mulder of all
the FBI's men
was able to put Dana Scully together again.

~*FIN*~

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