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Mulder turned and watched as Scully lifted her necklace from the pile of sand weighing down the too-small casket. She let it dangle from her fingers in front of her face and the gold cross swayed and glimmered from the low light shining through the stained glass behind them.
Time passed in silent stillness. Mulder tried to respect Scully’s space and her silence, but as it stretched on, from seconds to minutes, it became increasingly uncomfortable. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly before stepping around her to gently close the lid of the casket. He replaced the fallen bouquet on top and rested his hand flat on the lid for just a moment.
Scully took a few steps back and sat down heavily in the front pew. Mulder shoved his hands in his pockets and hovered restlessly, waiting for some sign of what she wanted. He wanted to get them both out of the chapel, out of San Diego, as soon as possible. He didn’t know what she wanted, though. She had been more closed off than ever in the last few days, but he didn’t blame her.
Mulder tightened his overcoat and took a seat next to Scully on the pew. She toyed with the necklace, pouring it from one hand to the other and letting the chain slip through her fingers. He watched her nervous hands for awhile and then looked up at her profile.
“I put this on her when they were taking her to the children’s home,” she said, draping the necklace chain over her hand and caressing the cross charm with her thumb. “I thought, maybe it would make her feel safe.”
Mulder stayed quiet, hoping his silence would encourage her to open up a little. He touched the necklace with his pointer, running his finger down the chain against her palm until it crossed over her thumb. He rested his wrist against hers and they stayed in that pseudo-hand hold until Scully closed hers into a fist, enclosing the necklace in a tight grip. He pulled his arm back and laid it out on the back of the pew behind her.
“I found a rabbit once,” she said, lifting her eyes and staring straight ahead at the casket. “I was six, maybe seven. Bill told me if I tried to keep it as a pet, he would kill it.”
Mulder pressed his lips together to keep his mouth shut on the subject of Bill Scully.
“It was just a baby,” she continued. “Very small. Helpless. I couldn’t leave it. I already loved it. I put it in an old lunchbox and hid it in the basement where Bill couldn’t find it. I thought it would be okay in there and I could take care of it in secret. I thought I was protecting it.”
Scully trailed off and dropped her head. Mulder stretched his fingers out and brushed her shoulder. She inclined her chin towards him, but kept her head down.
“I waited until it was safe,” she said. “I don’t know how long I left it, less than a day. I’m sure it had to only have been a few hours, but I didn’t know that was already too long. I opened the lunchbox and it was dead. I didn’t protect it at all. In fact, I’d killed it. I should’ve just left it where I found it, but I didn’t. I wanted it…I just wanted it so much.”
Mulder could see Scully’s chin beginning to wobble and then she pressed her teeth into her bottom lip. It made his throat tighten and he slid off the bench seat to crouch down in front of her. He put his hands over her clenched fists in her lap and squeezed tightly.
“It’s not your fault, Scully,” he said.
“I’m not so sure,” she answered, and her voice was just above a whisper.
“I am.”
Scully licked her lips and Mulder felt her fists tighten even more under his hands. He moved to his knees and pulled her stiff upper body towards his, putting his arms around her. She let her forehead rest on his shoulder, but kept her body away from his. He pushed her hair back over her ear so she could hear him and then cupped the back of her head.
“You did what you could to protect her,” he said. “You didn’t kill her, Scully. It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill Emily. You didn’t kill your daughter.”
Scully’s body melted in a sob and her arms swung out and around his waist. Her fists pounded into his back as she clutched at him with closed hands. Her sobs were stifled by his shoulder, but it didn’t make the grief pouring out of her any less intense. He laid his head against hers, face contorting with his own anguish at her pain, and rubbed her back.
There was movement in Mulder’s periphery and he looked up just as Scully’s mother stopped short in the doorway. He lifted his head and loosened his arms slightly, but Mrs. Scully shook her head sharply and he tightened his arms again. Her eyes darted from his to her daughter and back several times before she turned and quietly walked away.
Mulder continued rubbing Scully’s back in soft circles and a few minutes later, the crying ceased and she no longer clutched at his back. She stayed in his arms, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. He could already feel her pulling away, little by little. He was surprised when she sagged against him again and spoke instead.
“She was never my daughter,” she said, turning her head so her face was pressed to Mulder’s neck. She reached up and wiped her hand across her cheek.
“Don’t do this to yourself, Scully,” he said.
“It’s okay, Mulder. She wasn’t. I didn’t know her. I only knew of her by chance. She never called me ‘Mommy’ and she probably never would have.”
Now, Mulder felt his own heart breaking. It was why he’d never wanted to have to tell her about her stolen ova in the first place. He never wanted to be the one that had to deliver that blow to his partner that no child was ever going to call her ‘Mommy,’ not just Emily. He grew hot with anger for all that had been taken from her and he didn’t want her to lose the love she had for that little girl too, even through her own denial.
“Scully…”
“It’s just DNA,” she said, pulling away from him after all and rubbing her knuckles beneath her eyes. “That’s all it was. DNA. You were right, Mulder, she was never meant to be.”
“No,” he said, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him. “All life is a miracle, Scully. No matter where it comes from. She was part of you. She was real and you loved her.”
“I did,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around Mulder’s neck and hiding her face in his neck again. He moved one arm around her shoulders and cupped her head with the other.
The embrace only lasted a few seconds this time before she pulled back. Her eyes were wet, but bright. She held his gaze, but sank her teeth into her bottom lip so harshly it turned white and she swallowed heavily.
Mulder brushed her damp cheeks with his thumbs and she turned her head and shook it free from his hold. He pulled back from her and watched her open her hand in her lap. The imprint of her necklace remained in her palm she’d been squeezing it so tightly. He lifted it from her hand and undid the clasp. The chain was warm from her grip. She bowed her head and he fastened it around her neck and then put his hands on her knees.
Scully looked down at the chain around her neck. She rubbed the cross between her fingers for a moment and then stood up, moving past Mulder to stand before the casket again. He got to his feet and brushed the floor from his pants.
“I’d like to go home now,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”
The End