TIMELINE: Sometime between This is Not Happening and DeadAlive
SPOILERS:  Slight spoilers for Tooms, Soft Light, and Drive.
DISCLAIMER:  See Disclaimer Page
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  This came to me one day when I was messing around with my WAV files, thus, of course, I had to let it out to play.

As always, for NCL.

~~~
The Desk
~~~


“Why don’t I have a desk?”  Scully reflects, a little more than curiously.

 His response?

 Nothing.

 For he is not there; not any longer.

‘Why don’t I have a desk?’

The sentence of a long ago conversation; the epitome of questions, keeps up its mantra-in her head.

‘Why don’t I have a desk?’

She gawks at the nameplate–Fox Mulder-that stares up at her; mocking her.  She slams the top drawer shut, and turns, unconsciously, to survey the room.

Alighting her eyes upon the poster (a duplicate of the original; burned in a fire,) she returns its gaze, as if its message will help answer her question.

It merely gapes back at her: ‘I Want to Believe'.

‘Why don’t I have a desk?’

The question, asked so long ago-seems ludicrous...now.

We had almost never been here, anyway.  Always out and about, trying to save the world from liver-eating monsters, shadow-killing scientists, or ear-shattering soundwaves...

’Why don’t I have a desk?’

She turns back, and looks at the picture frame set atop the desk's surface.

Mulder and Samantha.

Mulder...

’Why don’t I have a desk?’

She sits down, slowly, into his old and achingly familiar office chair.

She places her hands on her face, her elbows on the smooth surface, and almost breaks down.

Almost.

’Why don’t I have a desk?’

’Why don’t I…?’

The mantra stops, midway through its loop, as the question is finally answered.

Looking down at the patterns of grain, she realizes...

I do now.

She breaks.

She sobs.

She weeps so hard, she feels as though she will never, ever, be able to stop.

“Oh God!  Please!  I no longer want a desk!”  She cries out to the empty room; hoping beyond hope that her change of heart will allow him to come back.

To her.

To his desk.
 
~Fin~

Copyright ~ February 16, 2002
Tammy D. Aiken-Phillips

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