Chapter Text
The day after Dana Scully walked away from clearing out her mother’s house and completing all the legal procedures involved with an estate - she finally opened the box her mother had given her three months before she died.
It was a simple shoe box, well handled like it had been opened and shut thousands of times she recognized Mulder’s writing on the top.
Scully.
Why did her mother have it? What was inside? She longed to open it, but their separation was still too raw. She’d made a new life for herself, but when her mother died he’d been by her side. No questions, no expectations - a solid presence in her grief, he already knew what it meant to lose a parent, to lose a sister … to lose a child. She’d leaned on him and there were nights he held her without question, his arms around her asking nothing in return. A comfort she took for granted - it was Mulder.
The box was taped quite neatly- surprising her, knowing he paid for gifts to be wrapped rather than attempting the task himself. When she slit the tape and pulled the lid off she knew why. There was an envelope on top with Dana in her mother’s elegant hand, beneath it was a sheet or two folded lined paper and tissue paper like a gift she couldn’t see what was beneath. She opened the envelope and read.
Dana,
When a mother has children one of her hopes is to guide them along the journey of life. Knowing there will be triumph as well as failures, but sometimes I think I failed all four of my children in this. Especially you, Dana. I love you my baby girl - I don’t ever want you to forget that. Perhaps you’ll be angry with me and you will tell me so the next time we have lunch after reading this letter.
Scully stopped reading and wiped her tears. Oh Mom. She wished she had the courage to open the box sooner.
I never understood many of your choices, but especially giving my grandson away. I know it was difficult, I know I could never have done the same. Now I wonder about this choice is it truly what you wanted - leaving Fox - you don’t seem happy or fulfilled my darling girl and you won’t open up to me about it. Neither would Fox. You didn’t know we spoke did you? I never told you.
He brought this box to me and asked me to give it to you, his eyes were so sad and lost Dana. I feared for him when he said goodbye and kissed me on the cheek.
He said, “Mrs. Scully … I - sometimes - I wish my mother had been more like you. Thank you for everything.”
I sat the box on my dining room table and I stared at it for hours - no days, like a snake about to strike. Fox never answered another call when I tried to reach him. I confess to you now Dana I opened the box and I’m not sorry for doing it.
I’m sorry for not doing it sooner.
The end