The Next Door by Danielle Leigh Rating: PG Keywords: post-end Spoilers: The end Summary: Scully has to decide what to do now she's technically free of the X-files. Note: This is my first story and I would really appreciate feedback at dleighr@hotmail.com. The Next Door I never thought I was the kind of person whose whole life could change by walking through a door. And I certainly never believed it could happen twice. Or three or three thousand times. It scares me. I grew up in a structured, ordered world that taught me to place my feet firmly on the ground and to expect the ground to stay exactly where it was supposed to. Dinner was at 5:30, before which mothers called their children in and inspected their hands for dirt. Fathers sat in dilapidated old easy chairs, with a child on their lap and a story about the sea rolling from their lips. When they were home, of course. Children played their strange ritualistic games and begged for five more minutes of freedom. This is the way it's supposed to be. Isn't it? Melissa would smile serenely and say, Well what did I expect? Not this, Missy. Never this. I'm facing now, at thirty-three years old, the quiet death of a once promising career. Actually I'm not only facing it, but embracing it. Because I can move on now. No violent crash and burn for me. It's simply not my style. It's *his* of course, but it's never been mine. Dignity was never Mulder's strong suit. Or I am I only kidding myself? Giving myself airs of being mature and reasonable when instead I'm capitulating without a fight. Or is he being obstinate and stubborn? Sorry. Ridiculous question. Of course he is. He wouldn't be Mulder otherwise. And in the back of my head I hear him. "I'm not going to give up. I can't give up. Not as long as the truth is out there." Although he doesn't say that tonight. He only looks at me and waits for me to invite him in. Damn the man for being so...memorable. And annoying. And once (I'm embarrassed to even admit this) even inspiring. But that was a long time ago. He doesn't burn as brightly as he once did. After all no human being can sustain such an intense passion for so long. I can't blame him for getting older. More cynical. Predictable. Can I? Should I? Because the Fox Mulder I hear in my mind is not the pale, ice-cold, glass figurine I found in our destroyed office two days ago. Instead I take the one who existed four long years ago, and now lives only in my head. The one that kept stride with me through every step and misstep. The one I could call partner, without anger or resentment. He's gone now. I lost him somewhere along the way. But I haven't...I won't lose myself. Two days ago I walked through that mythical door once again. It wasn't like the first time. Nothing can ever be like that first time. But it may have changed my life more drastically. And tonight it's his time to walk through a door. I just doubt he'll like what's on the other side. He never does. All the doors he's pried open over the years, through perseverance or stupidity or just dumb luck, have never given him anything good or even tangible. Only smoke and pain. "Scully," he says. And miracle of miracles...his eyes are blazing. Silently, I let him pass by me and into my apartment. Something is strange. "Scully," he repeats, almost like a small child who has found a favorite word. He then sits down on my couch gracefully. He moves with undeniable ease. I have a sudden urge to delay the inevitable. "Coffee?" Never let it be said Dana Scully is a bad hostess. He grins. An actual honest to god expression of happiness. "I don't need it." He's right. He may be sitting on my couch and in the confines of this small apartment, but the man is flying. I gaze at him. His eyes are bright and he's wearing that expression. The I've-got-a-genuine-psychic-who-just-spotted-Elvis-at-Starbuck's-buying-the- Flukeman-a-cappuccino expression. An expression known to have driven local law enforcement officers to attempted homicide of my erstwhile partner. "You scared me back there, Mulder." I shiver trying to forget how unresponsive and somehow *absent* he had been as he stared at what was left of his life. "I scared myself," he nods. I cross my arms and stand across from him. He's got something. I know it. I feel it. He's staring at me, his expression thoughtful and...intense...and it's familiar. If I didn't know better this man had just met me. He looks like he's cataloging my damn soul. "What?" I ask, annoyed. "I have a plan," he says confidently. No four words have ever inspired more terror. "I don't want to hear it, Mulder." He frowns and with more patience than he usually allows me asks, "You're not going to even listen to what I have to say?" "Mulder," I say tiredly, "I know what you're going to say. You want to tell me that you've always valued my partnership and now that we're apart you realize just how effective we were as partners. Once I'm convinced of the high esteem with which you regard me, you then ask for my scientific expertise on something very important. Won't I just *look* at it for you, you'll ask." My voice is flat and unemotional and although his eyes flicker his expression doesn't change. "No," he says coolly. "What I want to say is I think you're a damn fool if you don't come with me." My universe expands and contracts with that one statement. Brightens and darkens. The ground is missing. He gets up and stands before me, staring down into my eyes. He touches my chin bringing my head up and I stare back at him. Gone are the artifices I often use to shield myself from his intensity or the distance he puts between us for fear of getting too close. Gone are the small, but necessary lies we tell every day so that we can sleep at night without pain. We may be lonely, but we'll never admit to the hurt. He's right. I'd be a damn fool. "I'll get my coat," I whisper, still lost in his eyes. He smiles then. A wholehearted happy smile I don't believe I've ever seen. And then he touches my cheek. "I, uh, I," he stutters, his voice strangled. "Thank you, Scully," he finishes simply. And that's all I need. For now. Besides who wants to walk through that next door alone? And who needs the damn ground when you're flying? "Uh, Mulder?" I ask, as he hands me my coat. "Where exactly are we going?" FIN