Title: Blue Skies From Pale
Author: L'il Gusty
Classification: VA
Keywords: prior CD
Disclaimer: not mine.
Distribution: go for it, just let me know.
Thanks: realb, Karri, Liam
Timeline: five years from "Redux II," if Scully had died
Feedback: don't make me beg; lil_gusty@hotmail.com



Scully -

I read the other day in one of those cancer articles I saved that 
someone in remission is considered cured after five years and I 
couldn't help but think of how we might be celebrating your 
anniversary today.

About three weeks ago I needed an autopsy preformed right away - 
new serial killer case the VCS has me on - and I found myself 
picking up the phone to call you even though it was only four 
thirty in the morning.  I still do that, even now.  Old habits 
die hard, I guess.

Sorry.  Bad choice of words.

You're still on my speed dial, both at home and my cell.  Yes, I 
still get a new cell every year, and yours has always been the 
first number I put in the phone book.  You're still my speed dial 
number one.  I wonder how much long distance is to where you are.

I still keep your overnight bag in the trunk of my car - the same 
one you asked me to bring to the hospital when you first began 
treatment.  Your french vanilla coffee creamer is long gone from 
my refrigerator, though.  It started to curdle, so I had to throw 
it away.  It took me a long time, though.

I remember the day of your funeral, your mother held my hand and 
told me that the pain would get better, that I would never forget 
you, but that I would be able to move on.  She told me not to 
feel guilty for the minutes that I wasn't thinking of you and 
that you wouldn't want me dwelling on how you weren't with me 
anymore.

"She'd want you to find your truth, Fox."

She squeezed my hand and smiled through the tears streaming down 
both her cheeks, then let go and walked over to your brother.

She still calls me on every holiday and our birthdays "to talk."  
I know she's checking on me.  I know you told her to do that.

She was right, though.  It has gotten better.  It's gotten easier 
to work with other agents, though I still don't have an official 
partner.  It's gotten easier not to feel guilty when I discover 
that I haven't thought of you in days.  It's gotten easier not to 
stare unnervingly at every woman I see with red hair.

Some days are worse than others.  Today is a bad day.

I'm sorry, Scully.  I don't think I could ever say that enough, 
maybe because I know you'll never hear it.  I'm sorry I couldn't 
save you.  I can save six billion people by averting an extra-
terrestrial colonization, I can save hundreds of unknown 
potential victims from serial killers, rapists, kidnappers, but I 
couldn't save you.  You wouldn't want me think that, either.  
You'd tell me there was nothing I could've done, that it was 
enough to have me sitting with you every night until you fell 
asleep.

Did you know I stayed until the sun rose?

Sometimes I miss you so much I can't breathe.  Other times, I 
think of you and smile.  We had good times and I still think they 
outweighed the bad.  I just wish we could've had more.

I love you.  I can say that now that I know you won't hear it.  
Your mother would say you could, though.  She told me the 
Christmas after you left that you were still with me, watching 
over me.  That you'd always be.  Sometimes I think I can feel you 
if I try hard enough.  Sometimes I think you can hear me when I 
talk to you if I talk loud enough.  Sometimes I don't feel so 
alone.

Thank you, Scully.  Happy birthday.

Mulder

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