Aedh wishes for the cloths of Heaven – W. B. Yeats
 
 

I couldn’t believe it was actually true when you told me what you were planning to do.  I knew that your religion was important to you, sure, but I didn’t know it had gotten to this point.  I didn’t know that you wanted to practice said religion in a convent setting, away from the rest of the world.  Away from me.  Hell, Scully, I expected everyone else to disappear on me, but somehow I never quite expected it of you.  A convent?  It just isn’t you, Scully.

You were planning on telling me when?  After you left the FBI?  Jesus, Scully, do the years we spent together mean so little to you that you were prepared to just give them up, like that, without telling me anything?  Scully … surely you know by now what you mean to me?

I’ve loved you since I can remember, Scully, and I’m so, so sorry I never saw fit to let you know.  I can’t deal with this, Scully.  I can’t lose you, not again; I need you, can’t you see that?

I tried – grant me that, at least.  I tried harder than I thought myself capable – tried anything and everything I could think of.  I even tried courting you; you told me it wouldn’t change your mind, but being the fool I am when it concerns you, I refused to listen.

Nothing worked.  Nothing.

You ignored everything; for once, dead set on doing something that didn’t involve me.  Nothing in my life has ever hurt so much.  You said, in a voice dead of all feeling, a voice not at all like the Scully I know, that I could have your apartment, save for the things you needed to bring with you, and those small things you wished your family and friends to have as remembrances.

I didn’t want your apartment.  I wanted you, except – stubborn woman that you are – you refused to see that.  Or maybe you did see, and decided to ignore it since it didn’t fit in with what you wanted in your life.

The last gift you gave me was the most painful, considering how much money you don’t know I possess.  You transferred all the funds in your bank account (the money you said you had hoarded for a retirement that now would never happen) to mine … told me to look after it, in case you didn’t actually stay in the life.

God, Scully.  In theory, I could become you – your money, your apartment – except you, the one woman who perhaps could have saved me, will be somewhere I’ll never be able to reach you again.

There is one consolation, if you can call it that.  There’s to be a ceremony, in which I can watch you dedicate yourself to the new life you’ve chosen.  Your mother’s letter tells me that technically you were only supposed to invite family, but that you wanted me to go too.  I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted that you think of me as part of your family.  You told me, once, that you loved me “more than anyone on earth.”  There’s the rub.  You love me more than anyone on earth.  I’ve never been able to understand why you were able to give up this so-called ‘love’ for the love of that God you talk about so much.  Why the sacrifice, Scully?  Why?

Another thing I noticed in your mother’s letter was that there was some sort of problem with your outfit – apparently you were to wear the whole bridal get-up.  When I called her to ask what the problem was, she said that her veil had been torn beyond repair years before – and that therefore you had no veil for your ceremony.  Like the sucker I am for pain, I told your mother that I would buy you a veil.  And I did – I found the most beautiful one I could, despite the cost, and sent it to you with one of your holy pictures in the box.  “The Spirit is the Truth, God go with you” I wrote on it, recalling at the time the circumstances under which that scripture quote was used before, years ago …

I can’t believe it - the ceremony day is here!  No matter what else I’m supposed to be doing (I’m sure there’s something), it will snow in hell before I let Skinner screw this up for me, the last time I would ever see you.  And there you were.  Dressed in your mother’s bridal gown and the veil I found that showed off the glory of your Titian hair, you looked utterly radiant as you walked toward the altar, and so, so beautiful.  Unable to stop myself thinking of other reasons I would have wanted you in a wedding-dress inside a church, and totally unable to keep my eyes off you, I watched and listened with only half a brain as you gave both our lives away to God.  The pain – my God, the pain!  The pain when you had left me had been bad enough, but this was worse, far worse, even though you had told me that they were only temporary vows, and if at any time in the following three years you were unhappy, you could come home.

I had always thought that the search for my sister had never meant the same to you as it had done to me.  In this, as in so much else in our lives together, you proved me wrong.  Again.

When you was asked by which name you would be known by in religion, the name surprised me – and then again, it didn’t …

"Sister Anne."

Oh, Scully.
 
The years went by.  Each day the pain – which never entirely went away – dulled a little more as I began to get used to the fact that you were no longer a part of my life.  Every day, still, I could not help but put myself through the mental torture of searching my mail for the old, familiar writing that would tell me that I could begin to live properly again; every day, so far, I had been disappointed.  It was always the same; maybe, I told myself, maybe today will be different.  Maybe today's the day you’ll have written to say you’ll be coming home.

I'd lived each day as it came for too long now; when the letter came (if it ever did), it would arguably cause more pain than it could heal, but I didn’t consider that.  I was totally consumed with you, more so than I had ever been when you had been in the world, but this was most likely to do with the closure I had received about my sister.

My raison-d’être had always been to find out what had happened to her; you knew that.  Turns out that after she was taken, she had lived with our old nemesis Cancerman for almost six years before she decided to run away.  Smart kid.  The trail runs cold after she admitted herself to a hospital for treatment – apparently some colleagues of Cancerman came to collect her, but by that time she had disappeared.  No one – Cancerman included – knows what happened to her after that.

So I was happy, in a way.  As happy as a person half-whole could ever hope to be.  And so I waited, patiently, for the letter I knew would come.  As I said before, a convent just isn’t you; I was banking on you eventually figuring that one out for yourself.

And you did.  Thank Christ for that.  I’d been keeping an eye on the time, and it was almost at the point where you were committed to staying there for life after final vows – see, I read up about it!  Turns out that I’m not always the self-obsessed asshole I present to the world.  The day your letter came, I could have whooped for joy.

You’re coming back.  You’re coming back, to me.  How can I find fault with that?  How could I be anything but grateful that I had been given yet another second chance?  They don’t come along that often in a lifetime …

I was at the station to meet you, just as you requested – with your mother and brothers.  Billy wasn’t too pleased, but your mother kept him in check, just by a look.  I have a lot of respect for your mother, Scully.

And there you were.  Slightly thinner than before, and with such short, short hair.  I never knew that your hair curled when it was that short – but it sure is beautiful, Scully.  Like you.

I waited until your family had finished with their welcomes before I managed to catch your eye.  You came over to me, and hugged me so tightly I thought you were never going to let me go.

Never let me go, Scully.

I cried.  I fell to my knees, buried my face in your neck, and literally bawled.  You stood there soothing me, hugging me, and telling me the words I’d waited so long to hear.

“I’m here, Mulder.  I’m not going anywhere without you, ever again.”