From: Leyla Harrison 

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: After All These Years 4/10

Date: Tue, 25 Jun 1996 15:09:38 -0700





After All These Years 4/10

by Leyla Harrison

(starbuck72@netaxis.ca)





Scully: 



When the doorbell rang, I was in the middle of making dinner.  I put down 

the lettuce and wiped my hands on the dishtowel, hurrying to the door.  



I opened it.  Mulder stood there.



"Oh, my God," I gasped, stunned.  Every muscle in my body tensed, every 

nerve was accentuated.  I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck 

rise.  I could feel chills, nervous chills, down my spine.  I felt my 

face flush with excitement.



"Scully," he said, that one word, my name, the only greeting.  His tone 

was slightly angry, slightly curious.  His voice cracked as he said it.



"Mulder," I managed to get out.  I couldn't believe that he was standing 

here, on my doorstep, in my life.  No, I thought.  No, not in my life.  I 

mentally tried to close that door, closing off the memories, as I always 

tried to, but felt the resistance.  "What are you doing here?"



"Was in the area.  Saw you driving around, so I thought I would drop by 

and say hello."  He was definitely being sarcastic now.  I glanced around 

the front yard.  There was no one in sight.  His car, a standard Bureau 

rental, was in the driveway behind mine.



"You followed me?" I asked.



"All the way back from the airport," he answered.  I tensed.  I had 

dropped my mother off for a ten o'clock flight that morning.  I didn't 

want to imagine him having sat in the car in front of the house all day, 

although I had a feeling that was exactly what he had done.  "How is your 

mother, anyway?  I haven't seen her in years."



"She's fine," I replied tersely.



"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked.



Silence.  I stood there, staring at him.  God, even after five years, he 

still looked good.  He looked weary, but he still looked good.  I 

nervously tucked my hair behind one ear.  "Mulder..." I started, not 

knowing what to say.  What do you say? I thought.  What do you say to the 

man you walked out on?



"I want to know why you left, Scully."  His voice was firm, although I 

could hear the fear in it.  "I think I deserve that much."



Oh, Mulder, I thought, as I had for years, you deserve so much more.



The crunching of tires on gravel in the driveway startled us both.  The 

silver Altima pulled to a stop alongside Mulder's car.  



Mulder turned to look at the man who stepped out of the car.  "Dana?  

Who's this?"



My voice seemed to be trapped in my throat.  I cleared it.  "Joe, this is 

Mulder.  My partner when I worked at the Bureau.  Mulder, this is Joe 

Harmon.  My husband."  I watched Mulder for a reaction.  He was white as 

a ghost. 



*****



Mulder: 



As soon as I heard Scully introduce the tall, good looking, dark haired 

man as her husband I felt a sharp pain in my chest, as if I had been 

shot.  I felt weak.  I tried desperately not to stagger backward.   I 

could feel Scully's eyes on me.  I could feel her checking my reaction, 

my every move, my every breath.



The passenger door of the silver car opened, and a little girl with 

auburn hair bounded out and towards Scully.  There was no question who 

this was.  I turned to Scully.  She had been stony-faced until she saw 

the child.  Then her expression melted. 



"Hi, Mommy!" the little girl called.  Scully scooped her up in her arms.



"Hi yourself, sweetheart.  Did you have a good day?"



"Yes.  I made you a picture.  It's in the car."



Scully's husband approached me.  "Mulder.  The man with no first name.  

Well, it's good to meet you after all this time."  He offered me his 

hand, which I took with my own shaking one and shook as heartily as I 

could.  "I've heard so much about you from Dana."



"Nothing bad, I hope," I managed to say.  I was having an incredibly hard 

time talking.



"Oh, no," Joe Harmon replied, smiling.  "Dana loved working with you."



I was about to reply when I stole a glance at Scully.  Over her 

daughter's head she gave me a look that I understood instantly.  Her 

husband did not know of our relationship.  Her eyes pleaded with me not 

to reveal it.  I had a split-second moment to decide what to say next.  

"I enjoyed working with her, too."



I could almost see Scully sigh with relief.   "And this," Joe said, 

approaching his wife and child, "is our daughter, Samantha."



I swallowed.  "What a nice name."  I was having trouble speaking again.  

"How did you decide on that particular name?"



"Dana had it set in her mind that she wanted to name her Samantha even 

before we knew if it was a boy or a girl."



"Everyone calls me Sam," the little girl piped from her mother's arms.  I 

looked at Scully.  She looked pained.



"So, Mulder," Joe asked congenially, unaware of the tension between 

Scully and I, "are you staying nearby?"



"Actually, I wasn't sure yet.  I guess I could get a hotel room."



"That's nonsense.  We have a guest room.  You can stay with us.  I'm sure 

you and Dana have a lot to catch up on, anyhow.  Right, honey?"  Joe 

leaned over and kissed her.  I cringed.  After all the years, after every 

scenario I had dreamed about of what Scully had done with her life, it 

still hurt.  I had sometimes thought that she must have married, but I 

didn't know how much it would have hurt to see her married, with some 

other man.



"Of course," she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice and doing a 

terrible job of it.  "I was just finishing dinner.  Why don't you get 

your things from the car and come in?"



I nodded, heading back to the car to get my bag.  A million thoughts were 

running through my head.  I was thrilled to see Scully.  She looked 

incredible.  I wanted to take her in my arms...



She was married.  She had a child.  She had moved on in her life without 

me.  I should get in the car and drive like hell.  Get back to DC.



Back to what? I asked myself.  There was nothing there for me.  There had 

been nothing since Scully had left.



She had left, I reminded myself.  She left me.  A wave of anger rose up 

in my throat recalling the cruel way she had left town.  It filled me and 

I leaned against the car for support for a moment.  



If I stay, she'll explain, I thought.  And even if I can't have her back, 

I can at least know why.


CONTINUED IN PART V...