TITLE: Judgement Hour AUTHOR: Sandra Winarta DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as the story is intact along with my name, address and disclaimer. CLASSIFICATION: V, A. RATING: G. SPOILERS: Gethsemene. SUMMARY: As her cancer progresses, Scully struggles with Mulder's memory and her faith. DISCLAIMER: I don't own FM or DS, nor do I claim to. CC and 1013 Productions do (and Rupert Murdoch too when I think about it)! JUDGEMENT HOUR By Sandra Winarta The sun strained through the stained glass, refracting into a myriad of colours, plunging the agonised face of Jesus in blood-red. This was the place she had shunned since her childhood. Now, it was the place she returned to. To seek consolation. To find her feet. Her sanctuary away from the scrutiny of the world. She knelt on the hard wooden pew and crossed herself, closing her eyes to let her heart say the prayer she had longed to say, even as her head deemed the action futile. Lord, give me strength. Lord, give me hope. Lord, give me faith. So I can continue to live without threatening to fall apart every minute. So that I can face the world without him. Without Mulder. The image of Mulder's blood-stained apartment assaulted her memory. She was a pathologist; it was her job to examine the dead, yet the memory will never cease to haunt her. His traumatised body draped on the carpet, blood that soaked through the carpet, through his clothes. Here lies another martyr for the cause. To an outsider, Fox Mulder may have seemed callous, unstable, irresponsible. He believed in the impossible, was willing to do anything at any price to further his personal crusade. Yet, Dana knew differently. He had paid a high price for his wayward actions; a price she knew he valued more than his own safety. Her life. The guilt. The pain. It was in his eyes every time he looked at her these past few months since her cancer was diagnosed. No, even before that. Since her abduction. He took all the blame upon himself. In his eyes, Fox Mulder was the only person responsible for her suffering. Her heart overturned at the guilt he must have suffered to be able to end his life in such a way. She should have seen the signs, at least tried to talk him out of it. Convince him that what happened to her was not his fault. He didn't force her to stay; she chose to -- no, she needed -- to stay. But, she didn't know. And the price of not knowing was... "There can be no doubt, Dr. Scully. The cause of death was from a self-inflicted gun-shot wound to the head..." Now, she faced a lifetime without him. Her friend. Her partner. Without him, she was just Dana -- ordinary. Mulder made her extraordinary, their partnership meshing their two minds together until they became seamless. Ying and yang; black and white; separate entities that when in action became one. Entwined through trust, because there could be no one else. Somewhere along their journey, Mulder had become her faith. A surge of happiness rushed through her at the thought. She pictured his lopsided grin, challenging her to prove him wrong. Dana smiled, even as the memory of his face faded. What was the use of remembering such things? He was gone. Even these hallowed walls that had comforted countless other souls could not comfort her. "Oh, Mulder, I miss you." She let the tears fall silently down her cheeks, let her head fall into her hands. The dozens of flickering candles beckoned her to come. Slowly, she rose from her knees and moved towards the lights, each step taking place in slow motion. Taking a small candle, she passed its wick over the flame of one of its siblings, and placed it upright. She watched the candle burn, flicker, burn, while her thoughts ran free. Ahab. Missy. And now, Mulder. Always Mulder. No one else. Her body felt weak already, the cancer eating up her strength now that her faith was gone. She slumped to her knees, unconscious of the hardness of the tiled floor. The candles flickered, beckoned. She saw the peaceful figure of Mary on the mantle, cradling the baby Jesus in her arms. Beckoning her to peace. Hold on, Mulder. I'm coming. Holy Mary, Mother of God. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. The hour had come. finis.