The Dion Files


By Jeannine Ackerson



Rating: G.

Spoiler warning: This is set sometime between "Ascension" and "One Breath."

Disclaimer (and all lawyers please take note): The X-Files and the characters portrayed therein are property of C. Carter, Fox Broadcasting, 1013 Prod., etc. Celine Dion's song, "Fly" is also used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

Relationship: Mulder ANGST! I can't say this any more plainly than that. Plus a big dash of Mulder/Scully romance.

Summary: As Mrs. Scully makes arrangements for Dana's funeral, Mulder fights his feelings of pain and despair.

Hi all! Alright, this is another part to the Dion Files. Jadar and I talked about how this seemed like a "death if a character" song, but I thought it could work like this instead. And yes, Mulder and the time period after "Ascension" has to be my favorite Angst period, and I just can't help writing for him when he's like this. <g> Anyhow, on to the story . . .


The radio was playing pop music which he wasn't paying attention to it until the soft, haunting music began. It was Celine Dion . . . one of Scully's favorite performers. And as he heard the song, he had a chill run the length of his spine.

Oh God, he couldn't do this, he thought as his hand reached for the radio to turn it off. He didn't think he could take listening to it. Not now. Not after . . .

But for some reason his fingers went numb, and he ended up returning the hand to the steering wheel as the music invaded his soul, sapping the will out of him.

"Fly, fly little wing

Fly beyond imagining

The softest cloud, the whitest dove

Upon the wind of heaven's love

Past the planets and the stars

Leave this lonely world of ours

Escape the sorrow and the pain

And fly again"

Mrs. Scully was trying to resolve her feelings and her daughter's fate. Since the day he'd found the necklace that now rested against his throat she'd been gradually loosing her faith. She needed the closure. And today, she'd asked him to come and help her make arrangements for a memorial for Dana.

He hadn't wanted to come. He'd argued with her, politely of course that it was too soon, that there was still a chance. But she had resigned herself that Dana wasn't coming back.

But he couldn't accept that. Because how could Dana leave him when he still needed her. How could fate part them? Could her God be so cruel as to give her to him, making him so dependent on her presence, only to take her from him?

And now, driving back to his silent, empty, dark apartment, the weight of his missing partner, her grieving mother, and his own guilt rested on him hard. It had built up quickly, and he was almost on the verge of tears. And the song wasn't helping. It was chipping away at his resistance.

"Fly, fly precious one

Your endless journey has begun

Take your gentle happiness

Far too beautiful for this

Cross over to the other shore

There is peace forevermore

But hold this mem'ry bittersweet

Until we meet"

How could he let her go? There was nothing here for him without her.

He'd realized that the moment he knew she was gone. He'd walked into the flashing lights and police filled street surrounding her apartment after receiving her panicked message on his machine. He'd already been afraid of what had happened to her before he'd finished listening to her voice calling for help, *his* help on the tape.

But when he found the door of her apartment open, and took in the sight before him . . . The broken window. The overturned coffee table. The smashed lamp. The blood. . . No matter if he'd had his photographic memory or not, he knew that sight would haunt him all his days. And the days after that were simply a waking, walking nightmare.

"Fly, fly do not fear

Don't waste a breath, don't shed a tear

Your heart is pure, your soul is free

Be on your way, don't wait for me

Above the universe you'll climb

On beyond the hands of time

The moon will rise, the sun will set

But I won't forget"

Forget her? Let her go? No! That wasn't even an option.

As the days stretched on, it had gotten worse, he had gotten worse. And he knew it. Just the fact that he'd been contemplating too many things told him he was in serious trouble. Like his razor and the bathtub. Or his service revolver and his mouth. Or a couple of half-filled bottles of prescriptions from his multitude of hospital visits mixed with a bottle of Vodka and orange juice.

It was a good thing Mrs. Scully, Skinner, or the Bureau didn't have a clue how close to the edge he was.

Because they'd make him stop looking.

And that was all that was keeping him from exercising one of those "contemplations." The fact that his being alive meant he could still search for her was his only saving grace. He *had* to get Scully back.

There was no other option.

"Fly, fly little wing

Fly where only angels sing

Fly away, the time is right

go now, find the light"

He had to get her back. Both of their lives hung on this now. She was his angel, his light. He wasn't about to give her up yet. And somehow, as the song ended, he realized what had happened.

The sad lyrics of the song had changed him. Instead of the tears that had been flowing silently down his cheeks, the determination had returned. The fire had come back to his soul, the steel in his eyes.

For one night, he was certain he was going to be able to sleep a little. For in the morning, he was going to renew his search. And he was going to succeed.

He was going to find *his* light. No matter how long he had to look.

He didn't have a choice. Because he couldn't live without her.


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