Too Late to Kiss Him Hello
By Allison X
Spoilers: Emily, Christmas Carol, not much tho
Keywords: M/S angst Mulder/other romance
Rating: PG (just teeny bad words)
Summary: It has been a month since Mulder and Scully were separated. They 
have been paired with two other agents, but nobody really knows what happened to 
separate them. And why does Mulder have that scar running down his neck? 
Disclaimer: Mulder/Scully=not mine. The songs=not mine. Deanna=mine.

Agent Deanna Lesçion was a new recruit out of the academy. Green, one 
would put it if they were unacquainted with the young agent; cerulean blue, one would 
put it if they had a rather diabolical sense of humor; and black-and-white one would 
say if they knew her. Deanna could be read like a book, cover to cover, with no 
footnotes, addendums, or indexes.   To Agent Dana Scully, a woman used to dealing 
with whole unabridged volumes of tiny print and read-between-the-lines, she was a 
refreshing hiatus. She and agent Mulder had been separated for a month, her paired 
with an impeccably-buffed-nails kinda gal named Shirly Malone, and he with a let’s-
have-a-beer-at-my-place kinda guy named Tony Lepsicker. They were both doing fine 
until one week ago. Shirly Malone had been killed in a hostage-shootout that got too 
tense. Scully, who had been there as well, escaped with only a pierced thumb and a 
piece of shrapnel embedded in her cornea. Using her good eye, she had seen her 
partner’s body zipped up and dragged out, and felt a sharp pang of relief that it 
wasn’t Mulder—and a sharp pang of guilt after that. Shirley was a good woman, 
shallow to the point of gum-snapping adolescence, but a good woman. She was newly 
married and had a kid too. God works in mysterious ways, Scully had thought looking 
over the scene, and then reminded herself that it had been too many times, sitting 
through a Sunday-school session, that she had heard that exact phrase and discounted 
it as a way to explain those things that defied explanation. It did, however, seem to 
draw a very satisfactory “ahhhhhh” from whichever crowd was addressed. Mulder had 
arrived shortly after they had carted off poor Shirly to the freezer room to wait 
indefinately for whomever got the unpleasant job of slicin’ and dicin’. His expression 
when he saw Scully was unreadable. More fine print. He had grinned lopsidedly, with 
the half of his mouth that did not bear the painful memory of their ended partnership, 
the long scar, it’s silvery ladder climbing down his chin to stop at some point on his 
chest, hidden by his shirt. It was her fault that his face bore that freakish imprint, a 
reminder to her that all good things can be lost. She turned away from his glance. It 
was too early to start reminiscing with him, to late to kiss him hello.
All of the events leading up to this one particular Friday in June had left her 
slightly giddy and slightly apprehensive. It was, she reminded herself, always hard to 
start afresh with a new partner. This was different, a new partner, yes, but also a 
new, blank sheet of paper on which to start typing a reputation for herself. Everyone 
new that Deanna was green, so green that she would not have been around long 
enough to have already started typing the reputation herself. Not like Shirley, who 
would cast her sideways glances while she talked among her gum-snapping associates. 
Who knew what she was talking about. Who cared. Another lost cause, thought Scully, 
sitting behind her desk, glimpsing the picture of Mike, Shirley’s husband, among the 
other ruins of the woman’s life lain carefully in that cardboard box. But, she 
pondered, who’se life is more ruined, the woman who dies for her cause, or the woman 
who dies for herself? She was busy chewing that thought over, when Deanna entered 
the room. When Scully had heard that the woman was green, she had expected a 
young woman in her twenties, slightly french-looking (but who knows what that means 
anyway?), and eager. Deanna  stood in the doorway and blinked in through large blue 
eyes. She was a tiny blonde who looked more thirteen than thirty.
“Agent Scully?” she asked, her voice coming out with a slight tremor, obviously 
nervousness, and again, “You are Agent Scully?”
“Hello Deanna.” Scully said with her usual precision. Her voice came out 
cleanly and polished, like the clacking of high heels on a linoleum floor. This distant 
formality did not seem to put the woman at ease, for she stood trembling slightly 
(though this may have been due to the over-eager air conditioning maintenance folk 
who had lowered the temperature to forty-below)
Then, it was as if the woman had decided something internally, for she 
bellowed 
“Oh, hi! My gosh, it’s so good to meet you, I mean I’m so new here, and 
everybody is so formal and distant, I am really nervous! I mean you can tell can’t you? 
That I’m nervous? Of course you can, you look positively blown over that I am actually 
talking! So many people judge me on my appearance, being teeny and all, but I’m 
actually so talkative once you get me going!” She paused for breath and then stood 
looking expectant. Scully felt very confused, but the personality of this tiny, pretty 
woman made her feel at ease suddenly. She smiled an enigmatic Scully-smile. She had 
decided. She liked this woman. Of course, she must be taught not to bellow like that, 
if she bellowed at Assistant Director Donaldson he would have her guillotined. She 
must get used to a person who valued quiet. This extensive internal dialogue evidently 
confused the young woman, who stood with her head slightly cocked to one side. Then 
Deanna grinned widely,
“Did you really used to be partners with Spooky Mulder? He is very attractive 
isn’t he? What was it like? Were you dating?” She spoke this last word in an awed 
whisper.
“Well, Mulder is an attractive man, and we did date for a while but—it didn’t 
work out.” She paused and bit her lip. How much did this chatterbox need to know? 
Of course, despite her slightly rampant patois, she spoke with the inflection of a very 
intelligent well versed woman, for woman she was, despite her appearance, Scully 
could just glimpse the butt of a gun poking out from under he blazer. Maybe she could 
be trusted not to gossip, but now was not the time.
“Do you have any stuff to put down? Your desk is over there.” Scully gestured 
with the hand that was holding the pen. She was writing a 718 (shots fired) form for a 
recent store holdup. Deanna plunked down a cardboard box next to Shirley’s. She 
grimaced. 
“Lady had a kid, huh? Trajedy. I hope I have better luck Dana.” She turned 
around and smiled. “But I guess I’ll just leave the fate part alone, you know.” Scully 
got up and stretched.
“Would you like to come to lunch with me, Deanna? There is a perfect little 
restaurant across the street. I don’t know if you are a vegetarian, but they serve up a 
mean burger!” Deanna snorted.
“me, a vegetarian? Yeah, right. I could not live without the occasional 
porkchop. A burger sounds great.” They walked out of the building and into the 
chirping solace of the sunny summer day. They strolled into the restaurant, and were 
immediately seated. Then Scully noticed something odd. Someone who looked too much 
like Mulder not to be Mulder was seated at the table next to them. He caught her 
looking. It was Mulder. Crap. He came up to their table and smiled.
“Hello Dana. Who is your lovely partner these days?” He smiled warmly at 
Deanna who seemed visably to melt. Double Crap. She smiled back at him.
“Hello, my name is Deanna. You must be Fox. Nice to meet you. I have heard so 
much about you from all of my instructors at the academy. You are a real superstar." 
She gave Mulder a huge winning smile that seemed to light up her whole face. In fact, 
it seemed to light up the whole restaurant. Mulder looked a bit dazzled by it all. He 
sat down. For the rest of the luch, he turned on the legendary Mulder-charm full 
blast. Scully sat there in silence. She still loved him, even though she denied it, and 
this was killing her, ripping through all the numb scar tissue inside of her, opening old 
wounds, and spilling new blood. Before she could scream, before the blood would 
come pouring out of her mouth in tragic nonretractable gouts, she excused herself. 
Mulder did not watch her go. He was too busy creating new bonds.
Scully needed to get out, get away, get herself together, get over things, get 
drunk, in other words. And so, as the story goes, she found heself being stroked at 
two AM by a burly looking biker with a two inch bolt through his nose. Being too drunk 
to notice that he could smash her like a bug, she stumbled up, and out of the cheap 
bar, and out into the street. It was amazing, she pondered to herself, in a slightly 
distorted slurry way, how even at night in Washington, it could be four hundred 
degrees out. Screw it, she thought. Why was Mulder worth all this to her. He was a 
dog. A loser. A schmoe. The world tilted crazily, and she lost her stomach all over the 
sidewalk. A loser. A schmoe. She caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby puddle. Look 
who was talking. Her hair was dirty, knots and tangles. Her clothes were torn and 
filthy, covered with garbage and alcohol. A loser all right. She closed her eyes for a 
moment. 
She opened them in Mulder’s apartament. A soft healing light glowed from the 
corner of the room, and he was cleaning her forehead with a washcloth. The air-
conditioner hummed from the window. Her first thought was that this was some sort 
of Nirvana. I’ve been run over by a car. This is heaven. Her second thought was that it 
was a dream. They are going to find me tomorrow morning, covered in my own vomit, 
lying by the side of a road, or in a ditch somewhere.
“How’d I get here, Mulder?” here voice sounded weak, strangled, not all 
together there. It made her wince. He looked at her with dismay.
“I found you when I was out last night. I always go out on Friday nights. Just 
to find myself. I found you instead. Funny huh?” there was no hint of humor in his 
voice. Just that slow sadness. “what are you doing, Scully? What are you doing? Why 
destroy your life? Whatever you are looking for isn’t worth it, be it God, or be it 
love.” Scully pushed herself up out of the couch. She found it reasonably easy to walk 
without throwing up, or falling down.
“Mulder, I have to go now. I just can’t stay. I just can’t do this.” She stumbled 
slightly, and righted herself. “I can deal with this Mulder. By myself.” She walked 
slowly out of his apartament. The sound of her tears mixed with the falling rain.

“It’s tearing up my heart when I’m with you, but when we are apart I 
feel it too, and no matter what I do I feel the pain, with or without you.”

The next day she woke up at her customary 7:00, and realized that it was 
Saturday. She dragged herself out of bed. The phone rang, and she mumbled a 
greeting into the wrong end of the phone. It was her mother. It was her mother 
sounding more than a bit worried.
“Dana, hon? Are you all right? Hello?” Scully sighed and adjusted the phone.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m here, just a bit sleepy, that’s all.” Her mother let out a sigh. It 
was approximately that second that scully realized that she was supposed to have 
dinner with her Mom every Friday.
“Dana, Walter and I missed you yesterday. Is everything alright? Do you want 
to talk?” Truth be told, Scully was a bit uncomfortable with her Mom and Skinner 
dating, but she had never missed a dinner.
“Uh, Mom, I’m sorry, I was busy at work, and I lost track of time. Plus, I had 
to train my new partner.” A long silence on the line. Her mother had always loved 
Mulder as a son, and it near about broke her heart when they had split up. She still 
talked to Mulder now and then, but with Mulder so far away, they had grown apart.
“Hon? Bill and I are going out to luch today at the Marina. Would you like to 
join us?” Scully thought about this. She had nothing to do for lunch.
“Sure, Mom. See you at twelve. Kisses.” The phone clicked. Scully stared at it 
awhile, and set about the task of making herself presentable.
She joined her Mom and Bill at the Marina Café. They sat in silence before 
Bill cleared his throat.
“So, Dane’ how is work? How is your new partner?” He asked this question in 
a way that was not entirely to Scully’s liking. Just what exactly was he doing? 
Gloating? That trace of a smirk on his face was not something she could be imagining. 
She set her face as hard as it could go. Past limestone, past granite, all the way to 
hard steel.
“She is working out fine, Bill. How is your wife?” Bill smiled. The luch was 
placed before them, and they relaxed a little. Bill regailed them with stories about the 
new kid, and the antics of his wife regarding her new job. Scully forgot about the 
Mulder situation, and indulged in a little belly-laughter. It was good for her. Towards 
the end of the meal, she noticed her Mother looking at her with a smile on her face. 
She’s glad I’m laughing, thought Scully, and let out another guffaw. 
“Oh, Bill, that is so funny! Remind me never to be married to a social worker.” 
Bill grinned, and said something that he probably regretted the moment it was out of 
his mouth.
“See Dane, see how happy you are when you aren’t with him? You haven’t been 
like this for so long. I’m glad he’s gone!” Wrong thing to say. Bite your toungue Bill, go 
to hell Bill, go chase yourself Bill, and for God Sakes leave me the hell alone! She got 
up slowly, and clenched her fists at her sides. Then she left. No words about it. She 
left. Bill sat for a minute and looked at his Mother. Uh-oh.
“Mom, I’m sorry, I just thought. . .” He was cut off as his mother left him 
sitting at the table. He slammed his fists down. That God Damned Mulder! He was 
turning his family against him! He shoved away from the table. It was time to put 
Mulder in his place.

“I’m not ready to leave, it’s too scary to die. I’ll have to be carried to 
the cemetary and buried alive.”

Mulder opened his door only to be slammed in the face by a large hairy fist. 
Holy crap, that hurt! He sat down abruptly. There was someone in the door that he 
didn’t recognize.
“Who are you?” The man didn’t answer him, but smiled a little. He kicked 
Mulder in the side. Mulder felt a sticky trickle of blood running out of his mouth. He 
kicked Mulder again, and Mulder tried to grab his foot. He tried to fight back. Then 
the man kicked him in the head. Mulder sank into blackness. In the black space, he 
heard a female voice crying out.
He awoke in a pleasant hospital room. There was a woman next to him. He 
smiled.
“Scully.” He was supremely happy. So Scully still cared for him. The woman 
next to him shook her head.
“It’s Deanna, Fox, remember me?” That name, Scully’s attractive partner. 
Scully hadn’t come. Maybe she hadn’t heard? Right. Maybe she didn’t care, was more 
like it. He turned his head away from the woman, feeling himself nearer to tears than 
he had been in a long time. So this was what getting your heart broken felt like. 
Charming. He’d have to recommend it to Scully when he saw her. If he saw her. The 
pretty blonde was still next to him. Maybe she felt something for him. He had 
certainly felt a spark of attraction when they talked the other day. She was so 
vivacious. He smiled, a bit painfully. Here, he thought, was a perfect way to get back 
at Scully.
“How did you find me Deanna?” She smiled at him, and briefly looked over her 
shoulder.
”I, uh, don’t want Dana to know this, but I was coming over to you apartament, 
because I, uh, wanted to know if you were available to go to the FBI dance next 
Tuesday.” She spoke a bit nervously. He grinned at her and took her hand.
“Sure, Deanna, I would love to. How about we go to dinner after?” Deanna lit 
up, and Mulder, once again felt that minute spark of attraction. He also felt sorry that 
he was using this woman to get back at the love of his life. How he hated Scully. How 
his heart burned to get back at her in some way. The medic came in to their room, and 
told Mulder that the kick to the side had fractured a rib, and had opened up an old 
injury, a scar. Ironic, thought Mulder. It sure did open up an old injury. Not in the 
way the medic thought, though. Deanna helped him up, and they left the building 
together. He chatted with her, and she made him laugh. Then, they headed towards his 
apartament. They said their goodbyes, and she left him.
“Oh, but the way, Fox?” He looked at her questioningly. “The man who 
attacked you, his name is Bill. He dropped a note out of his wallet. His name is Bill, 
and he’s in the navy.”
“Bill” the word came out of Mulder’s mouth in a short gasp. So that was who 
the low-down son of a bitch was. But how come he hadn’t recognized him? Simple. He 
had been hit in the head, blurring his vision, and he hadn’t seen Bill in a year. He had 
grown a beard. Deanna cocked her head to the side and shrugged. She left. Mulder 
sat down on his couch and put his head in his hands. Bill. Why? He new that Scully’s 
brother hated him, but never this much. Bill had put him in the hospital for God’s sake.  
Mulder gave in to the tears that had been coming for a long time, and hated himself 
for being so weak.

“all her friends tell her she's so pretty. . . but she'd be a whole lot prettier 
if she smiled once in a while. `Cause even her smile looks like a frown, and 
she's seen her share of devils in this angel town”

It was Tuesday. Mulder had prepared for a long time, he had a tux that fit 
perfectly, a beautiful woman on his arm, and a large handsome grin on his face. 
Deanna was wearing a beautiful red satin dress that clung in all the right places, 
simple but beautiful silver jewelry, and a matching beautiful grin. The paraded into 
the dance, and all of Deanna’s friends came up to Mulder, and some of the guys at the 
FBI came up to him as well. The chatted, Deanna getting frequent grins, and pokes to 
the ribs from some envious friends, and ditto to Mulder. They were having a ball. A 
slow song came on, and Mulder and Deanna went out on the dance floor. They danced 
slowly, her breath tickling his ear, the musky scent of his hair intoxicated her. She 
smiled. They indulged in a brief kiss. Then he led her off to the side. As they 
approached the sidelines, Mulder caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his 
eye. It was Scully. Scully looked very depressed. She was not the beautiful rose that 
he imagined she would be. She looked tired, and she looked heart-broken. He smiled 
at her, and walked outside with Deanna. They sat side by side in the grass of the 
field beside the building. She lay a head on his shoulder and they watched the stars. 
After a while, he took her in his arms and kissed her. It was long and sweet, and they 
both shivered at the spark of electricity that had run through them. Mulder watched 
her blue eyes, glimmering pools of silky water. Then he shook himself. Those were 
Scully’s eyes. Deanna had Scully’s eyes! Life wasn’t fair. He really liked Deanna. She 
was fun to be with, and beautiful, intelligent, and funny, but he couldn’t love 
somebody who had Scully’s eyes. He sighed, and she looked at him with concern.
“Fox, what’s wrong?” He got up, and she followed. Without speaking, he got 
into the car, gestured for her to do the same, and drove away.
“Deanna, I think you are a wonderful person, and beautiful, and I really like 
you, but. . .” His voice trailed off. How could he do this? She was so fragile looking. 
How he hated Scully for doing this to him. “Deanna, I will say it straight off. I’m in 
love with Scully.” She looked at him for a beat, and turned to face the windsheild. 
“Ok” her voice was strong, and held no anger. “Why did you guys break up? No 
one will tell me. I think it must have been painful, if you still love her all this time, and 
you still can’t tell her. I can be a good friend, Fox.” She looked at him again, and he 
was struck by the plain sympathy and beauty in her face. He decided to get the story 
out, the story that had been weighing on him since the day that they separated. The 
day in which Scully had killed their romance.
“Scully and I had been dating for a year. We were in love. We were planning 
to get married in June.” He looked up in surprise. “tomorrow was the date. Scully 
always said she would love a june wedding. She wanted to have it on the beach. 
Anyway, we were working together  on a case. It was bad. The case was of a baby 
killer who claimed to be getting his victim’s names from God. The strange thing was, 
that all the Baby’s fathers worked for the government. They all worked on some 
secret project. It was called Project Onyx. Scully and I were having a hard time with 
the case, because, well, you know that she’s barren, don’t you?” Deanna nodded. 
Mulder continued. “She had a daughter once, her name was Emily. She died. It tore 
Scully up. So this baby’s father came to Scully in fear. He worked on this project, 
and he wanted protection for his two daughters. Their names were Melissa and Emily. 
That nearly killed Scully. There were timed when I thought she was going crazy. Well, 
Melissa and Emily were killed, and Scully watched it happen. It was my fault. My own 
stupid mistake. It was my fault they died. Scully did go a little crazy, and she got it 
into her head that I killed those girls to get her back for being barren. She came into 
my apartment. She took out her gun, and pointed it at my head. I got to her, got to the 
gun, and grappled her to the floor. She just lay there. She was crying. I let her go. 
You've’got to understand, I loved her so much, I couldn’t let anything happen to her. I 
turned away to call the doctor, and she got a kitchen knife.” Mulder’s hand stole to his 
neck. “She got me once before I had to knock her out. She regained consciousness, 
with no memory of what happened, except that she hated me for letting those girls get 
killed. We separated, and that was that. She knows that she did this to me,” his hand 
brushed the scar tissue, “but she doesn’t care. She hates me, and now I’m learning to 
hate her.” The two sat in silence for a long time. The windsheild became spotted with 
snow. Outside, the world looked different than it ever had. Mulder sensed a change in 
the environment. The world was at peace. He and Deanna looked at each other for a 
long moment, and then smiled. I’m learning to forgive, thought Mulder. He looked 
outside again. The world was at peace. So was Mulder.

“And I don’t go there cause I don’t want to.”

But Scully was not. It felt as if the entire world was angry with her. Giant 
looming faces snapped at her from out of the clouds. Thunder rolled. Bill had beaten 
Mulder to a bloody pulp. Scully wasn’t there. For the first time. She wasn’t there when 
he was hurt. Except for that time when. . . .
But that was never talked about. That was never even thought about. She had 
payed the price for her breakdowns. She had been treated and cured. She had 
learned to look at Mulder’s face without flinching. But she would never be able to get 
him back. He was with that pretty new agent now. That wonderful girl. What a bargain 
she was. Young pretty intelligent special agent Deanna. Scully caught an ofhand 
glimpse of herself in the mirror. Young? Hardly. Pretty? Mulder used to think so, 
before fear and repressed tension had twisted her features. Intelligent? Was she 
with Mulder right now, in bed, in her warm loving bed? No. No. No. She had hurt him 
to much, in the end, for his love to survive. He’d gotten over it. And now, driving home 
alone from another painful night, Scully pondered the choices left in her life. Moving 
on was not even on the list. Killing herself was cowardly, and lord knows, the one 
thing Dana Scully wasn’t was a coward. Moving to a new country wouldn’t solve 
anything. She’d be just as lost in France or England as she would be in DC. Finding a 
new love? Ha. Not possible. That left her with very few choices. Ignore it, live with it, 
go on with the misery. That seemed like the direction that she was headed in.
Confront it.
A possibility that left Scully riddled with fear. To what end? Apologize, yes, 
but that wouldn’t heal the wounds that had never quite closed. Would that cure the 
cancer of their mutual afflictions? She didn’t know what she could do. She was just 
so lost. That love that she had relied on had turned into a dried up patch of 
pleasantries. She bit her thumb pensively. And found herself driving almost 
unconciously to Mulder’s apartament. She hadn’t been there since the night he’d taken 
care of her. And before that. . . .not since the. . .incident. She pulled to a stop. And 
where was she supposed to go from here? Up to his apartament. And what if he wasn’t 
home? Back to your home, Dana, to nurse your battle scars. Walking up to his 
apartament, she stopped twice and almost turned back. She lingered outside his 
doorway when she finally got there. She smoothed her hair. She brushed her bangs 
away from her face. She breathed. Rhythmically. Breathe. Breathe. Mulder opened the 
door without her knocking. Face Off.

“And I can’t see at all. And even if I could it would all be gray, but you 
picture on my wall, it reminds me that its not so bad. Its not so bad.”

*	*	*	*
Et Voila! I wrote this a while ago, and finished it, um, a few minutes ago, so if 
the writing style changes, that’s because I’ve secretly been taken over by pod people. 
And don’t be pissed because of the ending. The emotions were just so complicated 
that I’ve decided to leave the herculean task of resolving them up to YOUR 
imagination, dear reader. But tell me what you think anyway!