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Title: Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind Summary: What happened after Mulder got out of the shower in Existence? Notes: I tried to write this so it could actually fit into the world that Chris Carter has created, and since we don't really know where Mulder is or what's going to happen, I sort of left the ending open. The day I left was one of the hardest days of my life. I had showered quickly, not wanting to waste one precious second of the time we had left together, and spent the last moments curled up together on the couch with the both of them in my arms. When Will fell asleep, I told Scully that I wanted to put him in his bed and be alone with him for a minute for a man to man talk. I walked into the bedroom and gently laid him down into his bassinette, pulling the blue cotton receiving blanket up to his chest. He began squirming and fussing a bit, but as I ran my hand over his downy hair, he settled and began suckling at his bottom lip. I wrapped his tiny hand around my finger and told him how much I loved him and how I didn't want to leave, but that if I never saw him again, he had to promise that he'd take care of his mother for me. "You're the man of the house, Will," I'd said, stroking his small, soft fingers with the pad of my thumb. "But your mom will still be the boss and the moment you see that raised eyebrow, you just need to shut your mouth and do as she says. She'll always only have your best interests at heart." I told him that if I never got to come back to him, that I wanted him to watch one movie for me: "My Life" with Michael Keaton and Nicole Kidman. "Yeah, I know it's sort of a chick flick, but our stories are similar in different ways. And if I were able to, I'd do what Bob does for his newborn son. Just watch it, think of me, and heed he advice the movie gives." As I walked away from my sleeping son, I reached into the laundry basket by the door and grabbed two things. The Onesie that Will had had on before I gave him a bath last night and the t-shirt Scully had worn to bed the night before. She looked at me kind of funny at first as I walked from the room and stuffed the shirts in one of my bags, but she didn't say a word. She didn't need to - she'd realized why I'd taken them. On the way back up to her apartment after taking the last of my luggage down to my rental car, I walked in to find Scully staring out the window. The door made a soft click as I quietly shut it, causing her to turn around, our eyes meeting. We stood across the room just staring at each other for a few moments. I had barely taken a step towards her and raised my arms in a signal for her to come to me, when she was suddenly there, clinging to me with a strength that even I never knew she had. She was shaking and all I could hear was the sound of her sobs and my own pounding heart. Neither of us said a word as I took her face in my hands, wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs, and brought her lips to mine. It started out soft and slow, but soon turned into a deep, frantic kiss, our tongues exploring and dueling as they darted around inside each other's mouths. Our hand grasped at one another, pulled and tugged, desperately seeming to try to merge into one person. I kept thinking that if I could just... hide in her, everything would be okay. I opened my eyes to look at her as we kissed and saw that her eyes were squeezed tightly shut with tears pouring out of them. I knew I'd never be able to actually say the word "goodbye" to her and I knew that if I looked into those eyes I'd never leave, so I broke the kiss and pressed my lips to her hair. When I finally caught my breath, I released my desperate grip on her, ran my hand down her arms and took her hands in mine without breaking the contact of our bodies. I inhaled her smell, then forced myself to let go, and turned to walk towards the door. The gasp I heard from her at the loss of contact between us broke my heart even more and I knew that tears were running down her cheeks like they were mine as I tugged my hand loose from her grip. But I refused to turn around. If I saw her, I wouldn't leave. Out of sight, out of mind. I don't recall actually moving to the front door, but all too soon I felt the cold metal of the doorknob on my hand and felt myself turning it to pull the door open. "I love you, Scully. I always will," I said. And I walked out the door without looking back. All that day, I tried to keep myself busy with driving and trying to plan what I was going to do and where I was going to go. I kept telling myself over and over again that we were doing the right thing, but I also had to repeatedly try to convince myself of that with every passing mile. The first night was hard. I holed up in some cheap motel room in Ohio that reminded me way too much of all the other cheap motel rooms that we'd stayed in together over the years on cases. I tried just going to sleep because I was exhausted from driving all day. Plus, I hadn't slept at all the night before. We had known it'd be our last together in God knows how long, so we spent the night in each other's arms watching Will sleep. We spent the night holding each other, whispering to each other, memorizing each other and just being together. And we cried. I wanted so badly to be strong for her, but the moment I saw the tears well up in her eyes, I lost it and felt my own tears spill down my cheeks. She looked into my soul and I swear I felt her say "It's not fair. I just got you back." And I was tired. I needed to sleep and had desperately hoped for a room without an adjoining room, but of course, no such luck. I kept staring at that damn connecting door thinking of all the times when she was just on the other side. Thinking of all the nights I'd turned down the television just so I could listen to her getting ready for bed. Or when I'd listen for her own TV to come on just so I could find the same channel she'd stopped at and we could watch the same thing. Thinking of the times I'd knocked on the door with the excuse of needing to talk about something with whatever case we were working on. Thinking of all the times she'd done the same. And, of course, thinking of the first time that we were at a motel after we realized that both of us knew that there was more to us than what we had ever admitted to each other. A sad smile crossed my face as I thought about the time she mentioned the rules we were breaking and the taxpayer money we were spending on my unused room. "But I'm sure the maid doesn't mind, Scully. Less work for her," I'd said. She just raised her eyebrow at me. "If you want though, we can go over there and make a mess of my bed too so she'll have something to clean up after we leave," I teased, dragging my fingers slowly over her smooth, flat stomach. She shocked me by saying "How about we make a mess of the bed *and* the shower?" And so we did. Ah, yes, my Scully. At least the dresser of the motel room I stayed in that first night had a huge mirror on it. I knew I'd never be able to sleep with that connecting door mocking me like it was, so I pushed the dresser in front of it. Out of sight, out of mind. I still couldn't sleep though. Usually when I was unable to do so, I'd call her. But damn it all to hell, I couldn't do that either. Staring at the phone got me to thinking of all the times that I had called her to bounce ideas off her. Or when I'd call her to remind her of a meeting we had the next day. She knew though. She knew that I just needed to hear her voice. "It's three o' clock in the morning, Mulder." "Can't this wait until tomorrow, Mulder?" "What is it Mulder?" "What are you doing, Mulder?" "Are you okay, Mulder?" "What's up, Mulder?" I just liked to hear her say my name. No one says my name like she does. And after talking to her, I could always fall asleep. The stupid phone kept beckoning to me, telling me just to pick it up and call. I just needed to hear her voice, to hear her say my name, and then I could hang up and go to sleep. But then I knew that if I heard her voice, I'd want to talk. It would just be too dangerous. They might be able to trace where the call was coming from and find me. Or, having someone call and hang up would just scare her. Or it would wake up the baby. I couldn't call her, so the phone was unplugged and put in the drawer of the dresser. Out of sight, out of mind. Finally, after flipping through the limited channels on the television, I dozed off during an infomercial for the Ab Roller with my head buried in Scully's nightshirt that I had taken. For weeks I tried to keep myself busy. But knowing that I could pretty much do anything and go anywhere left me frustrated. The one thing I wanted I couldn't have and the one place I wanted to be I couldn't go to. My life felt pointless as I roamed the street and shopping centers watching the normal families with their normal kids and normal lives doing normal things. It was hell. I saw a lot of movies at first, thinking that I could forget my own problems by "living" in someone else's fantasies, but found that most of the characters I could compare in some way to Scully and Will. And if I just squinted my eyes and turn my head slightly, that actress sure could pass for Scully. Finally I found a library and began spending a lot of time reading book after book on subject after subject that took my mind off of my thoughts for a while at least. At night though, when I wasn't reading and was trying to go to sleep, my mind would wander to them. Their scents on their clothes that I had swiped as I left had begun to fade and I tried to just keep telling myself that it'd get easier with time, but after a month, I knew I had to go. If I didn't see her, I was going to go crazy. Out of sight, was definitely *not* out of mind. I know it's dangerous and if she ever finds out, she'll tell me how stupid I am. That doesn't stop me though because I'd give anything just to be able to hear her voice, even if it is her telling me I'm stupid. "You're crazy, Mulder." I know that I'm putting our lives at risk and it goes against the whole reason we decided that I'd leave. If I'm going to endanger us anyway, why go through the cruelty of being apart in the first place? But I can't help myself. I want to - no, I *need* to see them. To see her. She is a part of me and being without her is killing me. Not in the literal sense - been there, done that, or so I heard - but it sure feels that way. I feel like I can't catch my breath. I feel like my throat is closing up. I feel hollowness in the pit of my stomach, but know it's not really my stomach that feels that way. It's my soul. Without her, my soul feels empty. It is empty. I'd been letting my hair grow and had stopped shaving. I went to the store and bought some gray hair coloring and a pair of black rimmed reading glasses. Then I went to a thrift shop and bought some clothes that were raggedy and slightly too big on me. After stuffing some padding in my clothes to make myself look heavier, I was pleased that I would not be easily recognized. I chuckled as I realized that I sort of looked like that hand model in Ben Stiller's movie, "Zoolander." I take many precautions in getting there too, including taking buses and taxis, renting cars under fake names and walking the last part of the trip. I've taken up to four days to get there before, all because I back track and take different routes each time. I must be careful because I don't want to be followed. And through all the traveling I do just to catch a glimpse of them I still haven't found the answer to the question that plagues me: Which is harder? Knowing a person you want to be with is dead and you'll never see them again, or knowing they're alive, out there, wanting to be with you, but can't. Just seeing her makes me feel like I can breathe again. She fills a void in me. In my heart. In my soul. I think I'd die if I knew she wasn't out there and it amazes me that she made it through the time when she thought I was dead. I swore I'd only do it the one time. I just needed to see her. To see how long her hair was. To see how big Will had gotten. And hopefully, to see her smile. But after the first time, I found myself going back again. "This is the last time," I'd tell myself. But deep down, I knew I was lying. I knew I'd go back like I have on this rainy night and sneak to the top of the apartment building across the street from hers to sit with my binoculars in hand and watch her through the windows. At night, when Will wakes her up to be fed, she likes to pull the rocking chair in front of the window and sit with him. I wish I could hear what she's saying to him, but I can only see her lips moving. I'm sure she's telling him stories about me. And usually after he's done eating and drifts off to sleep in her arms, she cries. I know she feels the emptiness in her soul too. And I'd give anything to be there with her to fill it, but I can't be. Just being here now is too dangerous and I know that I must go soon. I watch as she leans down and kisses Will's head, then wipes her tears away. She slowly stands up so as to not wake him, and I watch her disappear, knowing she's putting him in his bassinette and kissing him goodnight. Soon she'll come back to the window to retrieve the rocking chair and put it back in its proper place. Then she'll go to bed and I'll leave. But instead, I watch her come to the window and stare out at the dark street. She closes her eyes, clasps her hands together and tilts her head to the sky. Her lips begin moving slightly and I know that she's praying. I feel kind of guilty for watching her as she does so, but I know that she's praying for God to take care of Will and me, to keep us safe from harm. I know she feels helpless at not being able to make sure I'm okay on her own like she had for so long, so she's giving that responsibility to Him. As the tears start rolling down her cheeks again, I am overcome with the feeling that she asked Him for a sign that I am okay and that He has granted that for her in the form of a sudden bolt of lightening. Her eyes fly open before the light even fades and she looks straight at me. Even though it's dark, has been raining and I'm across the street and in disguise, her mouth drops open slightly and I see her chest rise with the sharp intake of breath as she recognizes me. I lower my binoculars and time seems to slow to a stand still as we stare at each other. After a while, she lowers her head slightly, breaking eye contact, and I raise my binoculars back up to my face in time to see her close her eyes and the corners of her lips turn up into a slight smile. She brings her hand to her heart and she mouths "thank you." Then she turns and walks away. I'm not sure if she was thanking God or me. Actually, she was probably thanking both of us, but all I know is the moment our eyes met, I felt an electricity shoot through me and that those brief seconds meant the world to her. And to me. She knows I'm safe. She knows I'm still here. She knows I love her. And she knows that I want more than anything to be with her and Will again. I'm shaking now as I begin my descent from the top of this building. I feel renewed with the knowledge that she knows now that I'm still here, but I'm still desperately aching for more of her. If God just answered her prayers, then He is listening to her and she needs to keep praying. If He is real though, then He needs to give me more signs like what I just felt so I too can have faith in him. But what I can't reconcile is that He'd allow aliens to colonize the earth and kill innocent people. If there were a God, wouldn't he put a stop to that way before it even started? And since He obviously hasn't yet, I have a hard time believing in Him. Part of me just wants to sprint across the street, bolt up the stairs to her apartment and take her in my arms. I just want to grab her and Will and run. Run from this place, this life, this terror that we live with. Go somewhere and start another life. One without aliens, without the fear of abductions, without government conspiracies. Out of sight, out of mind. Right? But I know I can't. I know they'd find us somehow and that we could never have a normal life because we'd constantly be living in fear with what we know may happen. I have to use what I know and hope that some day it will all be over and I can give Scully and Will the type of life that we all deserve. I've made it to the street now and have begun walking to the hotel that I will stay at tonight. Tomorrow I catch a bus to take me back to my own living hell until the next time I make the trip here to watch her from afar. I pull my jacket tight against me as I feel a few sprinkles begin to fall. Now that she knows I'm here, I can't help but imagine Scully laying in her bed being unable to sleep because she's in doctor mode thinking of how I could catch a cold from being out in this weather. As that thought crosses my mind, another bolt of lightening streak across the sky, and part of me wonders if that was God's way of saying, "You're right. She's afraid you'll catch pneumonia." The end
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