Title: Fading Rose
Author: Abby M Huot
Status: M/V
Disclaimer: Chris Carter? Yes, he did create Mulder, Scully, The X-Files, and all that cool stuff. 20th Century Fox? Yeah, they DO own it all! Abby Huot? Yup, she DOES write strange X-File related stories and her whole family thinks she's a deranged obsessive X-Files fan. Too bad she didn't have the brains to create it all! (But she was only in 6th grade when it premiered, what do you EXPECT, people?!)
Spoilers: This is taken place sometime during Never Again. Probably right after the "Why don't I have a desk?" debate. (Remember, that's when she suspects she has cancer but doesn't say anything to Mulder about it.)
Summary: Mooooooo........ (If you speak cow, this summary gives away the whole story. If you don't understand the language that cattle speak, then I guess you'll just have to read it like the rest of us!)

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I can't believe this.

No, not only do I not believe this, I don't *understand* this. Scully just chewed me out because she doesn't have a desk. If it bothered her that much, why didn't she say anything before? I don't want her to feel like she's inferior, that most certainly was not the plan. I honestly DID always think she liked it in the back. What's not to like? You're right by the coffee maker! That's a luxury I don't have. She's been acting strange lately. Awfully quiet, kind of isolated. I don't like it, it makes me worry about her. I left this office earlier today after the argument. I felt like crap by the time I got home, so I just turned around. I had to apologize. I've been an ass hole. I just didn't realize I was, I didn't know any better. But when I got here, she was gone.

What *was* here instead was what something I never really thought of. A faded, dry rose petal. I watched her last night while I talked to my informant. She bent down in front of the Memorial and picked it up off the ground from boquets of flowers. I didn't think of it then, but I am now. And when I stepped back into my office, I found it sitting on the corner of my desk.

Now I'm sitting here, in the dark of the basement. The only light is my desk lamp, which gives off a warmth, gold, iridescent glow. The rose petal is in my hand; my thumb runs down its center. I examine it slowly, wondering if, maybe, there's a second meaning to it. Its small and delicate, red and fading. Halfway dried out, but the edges of it are still full of deep, bright color. Surprisingly durable. Stiff, but flexible enough to be turned inside out. And then it hits me. There *is* another meaning. I realize there *is* something wrong. Scully must have known I'd come back. She left this for me as a reminder. A reminder that warns that she's tough, but she is fragile. Something is wrong, I know it, and its not just not having office furniture of her own, I'm damn sure of that. And as my fingertips runs over the dry half of the leaf, I feel my heart sink. Is she....dying? No, no, she can't be. She's too young, too healthy. She's....Scully. Nothing can kill her, she's too strong. Again, I look at the bright edges. Unless....she *is* dying. Regardless of how healthy she might look on the outside, that doesn't make her perfect on the inside. What is it she's telling me? Is she showing her ailments through this? A fading rose? Perhaps it is a symbol to her. A symbol of herself, that she is half-dry. Did she pick this up to leave here for me to find? She knew I would, somehow. She saw it and saw herself in another form. She is a thing of beauty, a being which is taken for granted. No on think that she can ever die. But maybe she is....perhaps she is a withering rose, slowly losing itself as a petal falls from its blossom. One by one. Till there is nothing left of the beautiful flower, but a stem. That which made it a flower is gone....No, I'm overlooking this. I chuckle at myself. This is absurd. If Scully thought she was dying, she would tell me. Wouldn't she?

This is stupid. This is ridiculous. I stand up and set the petal back on the corner, then make my way to the door. Before I leave, I turn back to look at it. I can't even see it. I close my eyes, shaking my head. No....this is all a misinterpretation of my own fears. Scully can't die. She won't. I close the door and walk down the hall to the exit.