Fri Sep 20 1996

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully etc. are the property of Chris
Carter, Fox Broadcasting and Ten Thirteen Productions and are used
without permission. No infringement of copyright intended. I do
this for the love of it!

Constructive comment and criticism welcome, anything else will be
cheerfully ignored!

Summary: More misery and angst for Mulder on the anniversary of a sad

by Carol Gritton (

Fox Mulder was alone. He stared out of the window at the first
steely grey fingers of dawn light that were creeping slowly across
the sky, chasing away the moon and the stars. The trees across the
street stood naked, devoid of their leaves now that winter was almost
upon them.

Fox looked at the calendar - it was ten years to the day since
Caitlin had died, and with her had gone all of his dreams for the
future. Now he was back where he had started. Alone. He had no
children to comfort him in his grief - despite trying, it was not
meant to be. Caitlin had always believed that such things happened
for a reason, and she had accepted her childlessness with her usual
calm serenity.

They hadn't known when Cait first complained of feeling unwell that
it would lead to such tragic consequences. Even when the specialist
had told them that there was nothing more that could be done for her,
she had accepted it. Fox's reaction was to be angry, to rage and
shout at the injustice of it all, then finally the tears came. The
illness had been long and painful - her body wracked by so much pain
that it hurt when Fox tried to hold her. He had nursed her to the
end, when she died at home in his arms.

He turned away from the window and his eyes fell onto the photograph
of Cait that stood on his bookcase. Fox walked the few steps across
the room and reached out, his fingers touching the glass that
protected the smiling portrait behind it, wanting to feel warm flesh
and bone instead of cold glass. Tears stung his eyes, and he let
them fall unashamedly. "I miss you, Cait," he whispered softly, his
voice choking with emotion.

When Cait died, and for the second time in his life, Fox had
seriously considered ending it all - taking his own life. They'd
only had eight years together before she had been taken from him, as
Samantha had been taken, as Dana had been taken. Dana had returned,
only to leave him again when she married. Fox had come to the
conclusion that he was meant to be alone - why else was everyone he
loved, everyone that had ever meant anything to him, taken from him?
He had been at his lowest ebb when he had dreamed of Cait - she had
told him not to give up, that there was still work to be done, that
he had the strength within him to carry on.

Fox showered and shaved, then dressed in his black suit. He decided
to forego breakfast - he wasn't really in the mood to eat. He took
another look out of the window. The day matched his mood - dark and
gloomy. The rain was holding off, but the wind had picked up so it
seemed wise to dress warmly - the cemetery was rather exposed and it
would be cold up there. He slipped into his black wool overcoat,
threw a red scarf - red had been Cait's favourite colour - around his
neck, picked up his gloves and headed for the door.

He called in at the florists and collected the two dozen red roses
with gypsophila that he had ordered the day before. Stowing them
carefully on the back seat of the car, he set off for the Garden of

Fox drove in through the gates and parked the car. He retrieved the
roses, then locked the doors. The Gardens were peaceful as Fox
walked towards the small chapel. He went in, and took a seat in the
back row - other than Fox, the chapel was empty. He had no idea as
to why he always came and sat in the chapel before visiting her
grave. He didn't believe in God, or a higher being, especially after
everything that had happened in his life. Maybe it was the silence
he liked - it helped him to think about things, to get his thoughts
in order. Many times he had questioned the choices he had made, and
the answer was always the same - he'd had no other choice. Fox sat
there for some time, enjoying the silence and solitude and the
feeling of peace that accompanied it.

Fox stood wearily, picked up the roses and headed for the door. He
hunched his shoulders - there was a definite chill in the air, and
that made him think about the possibility of snow. He smiled
suddenly, recalling how much Cait had loved the snow. She was like a
child - her excitement and enthusiasm had been infectious and more
often than not, he would find himself being roped in to build a
snowman on the front lawn. After their exertions she would always
make hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, and he could picture
her now - her face glowing from being out in the cold air, her
laughter echoing as they shared some old joke. And then she'd got
sick. Fox pulled his collar up higher and wrapped the scarf around
his neck, then headed for Cait's memorial.

He hunkered down, wiping a gloved hand across the stone with its
simple inscription. It carried nothing but her name, her date of
birth and date of death. No quote from the Bible, no intimate words
- just the plain facts. Fox's feelings were his own and they were
private. Cait had known the depth of his feelings towards her, so he
felt no obligation to publicise them to the whole world. He took the
roses, laying them carefully across the black marble tablet, then
straightened up and stood for a few moments, his head bowed in silent

Fox didn't hear the footsteps behind him until someone appeared at
his side and said, "If you put the flowers in here, they'll last
longer." He turned, surprised to hear that voice.
"Dana!" he exclaimed. Dana Scully, as she had been before her
marriage, smiled.
"Hello, Fox," she said softly. "I thought you'd be here." Fox gave
a small nod in acknowledgment.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I thought that maybe you could use some support - I know it's ten
years today since Cait passed away."
"It's good to see you," said Fox, and he truly meant it. He was
touched and grateful for her gesture.
"Let me put those in this vase," she said. "Is that okay?" Fox
nodded, and she picked up the roses and arranged them.
"They're beautiful," she said softly, and Fox gave a shy smile.
"Cait loved red roses," he revealed. "My life wasn't worth living if
I didn't bring home red roses on Valentines Day or our anniversary!"
Dana could well believe that - when it came to remembering important
dates he had been hopeless, and she had saved him from imminent
death on more than one occasion.
She finished fussing with the flowers and said, "There's water in the
vase, so they should last a little longer."
"Thanks Dana, I really appreciate that."

Dana looked up at him and noticed that his lovely brown eyes, always
so expressive, now looked tired and weary. His forehead was lined,
and his face looked thin and grey.

<He still hasn't got over it, even after all this time> thought Dana
sadly. She saw tears well up in his eyes, so she reached out and
closed her arms around him, holding him. Fox held on to her,
sobbing. "I miss her, Dana," he choked out. "She made my life
complete, and then she was taken away from me." There was nothing
that Dana could say that would make him feel better, that would ease
the pain in his heart, so she continued to hold him, soothing him as
best she could.

Dana understood how he felt - she understood only too well. Life had
been unfair to both of them. To go through the agony of losing
someone close, someone that you loved very much was bad enough, but
for it to happen twice was more than anyone should have to bear. She
knew that it had driven Fox to the brink - she didn't want him to
stand on the edge of that abyss again. She wanted him to know that
he was not alone.

Fox closed the door of his apartment behind him. "I'll make some
coffee," volunteered Dana. Fox nodded, taking off his scarf and
hanging it on a hook by the door. As he went through to the bedroom
to hang up his overcoat, Dana took a quick look around. It was like
his old apartment - the one he'd had before he married - only more
spartan and cheerless. He and Cait had purchased a small house soon
after their marriage, but Fox had sold it after her death. He
couldn't bear to stay there - they had hoped to fill the house with
noisy children, but instead it just echoed with silence and painful

Dana opened the kitchen cupboards to find the coffee - they were
nearly all bare, just like when he had been single. She discovered
that the fridge was the same - it contained some milk and low fat
spread. "Do you still take it black?" she called.
"Yes please," Fox called back.
Dana came through with the coffee and sat opposite him on the
comfortable couch. She took a sip, then asked, "Are you looking
after yourself properly?"
"I'm fine, Dana," he replied. "You don't have to worry about me."
"But I do worry about you," she answered softly. "I've always
worried about you."
"I'm okay, Dana, really." She didn't believe him.
"When did you last eat a proper meal, Fox?" she asked. "When did you
last get a good night's sleep?"
"Ah - the second one's easier to answer than the first," said Fox.
"I haven't slept properly since Cait died." As soon as she had
passed, the sleeping problems that had plagued Fox for most of his
life had returned. Feeling her next to him had always comforted him,
made him feel secure, and he would sleep the whole night through.
Then he had found himself alone again, and all the old problems -
the lack of sleep and the nightmares - had returned to haunt him.

"As for the last time I ate a proper meal......" Fox shrugged.
"I thought as much," scolded Dana, not unkindly. "We'll go get
something to eat - my treat."
"I don't really feel like going out," said Fox.
"Then we'll get take out," she insisted. He knew better than to
argue with her.
"You don't have to do this, you know," said Fox.
"I know, but I want to," replied Dana softly. "You were always there
for me when I needed you - now it's my turn to do the same for you."
She reached out and took his hand.
"You're not alone, Fox - Cait is always with you - I am always with
"I know," whispered Fox. He had always known, and that knowledge had
given him the strength to carry on.

The End