Mulder.  Its a name I once regarded skeptically, with a touch of fear.  The Suzanne Modeski files, as Frohike refers to these thoughts of times better forgotten but that gave us our start.  A name that I, at one time in my life, cursed, but that I came to respect.

Mulder.  Its a name that came to stand for loyalty, and friendship.  Friendship in his ability to believe us, his willingness to ask us for help.  Loyalty in never betraying us.  Friendship in introducing us to the woman he gazed at with more affection than we'd seen in him, the woman we all came to care for in a way that only he himself would fathom.

Mulder.  Its now a name I associate with grief.  Our grief, as Frohike is lost without his banter-buddy and Langly lost without his D&D buddy (I doubt even Scully knows Mulder plays...played...well, enjoyed Dungeons and Dragons).  Oh, Scully.  Poor Scully.  Pregnant and alone.  Some days the guys and I have to call her every hour to make sure her demons have not defeated her.

And then, of course, there is my grief.

I am not like the others.  Mulder wasn't...isn't...my buddy, he wasn't someone I'd pal around with outside of our work.  But he was...is...my mentor.  I learned so much from him.

And now, I must emulate him.

The others need guidance, in so many ways.  They fight too much to ever get this done, to find Mulder as expeditiously as possible.  Things have to be conducted as though Mulder himself were leading it. Scully knows it too, or else why would she call me personally at four in the morning after a nightmare?

"Byers, I...."

"I know, Scully."

God, do I know.  She's dealing pretty damn well with all of this;  Mulder's disappearance, her pregnancy.  For all intents and purposes she hasn't changed a bit.  I doubt the other guys even notice it.  But I noticed it.  Four days into this debacle of a summer, Scully called me privately to meet her at a coffee shop.  From there, we went to Mulder's apartment, and we talked (or rather, she talked) for seven hours about what she is going through.  From then on I've been her confidante.

At her worst, I wonder if Scully isn't more honest with me than she was...is...with Mulder.

She tells me the secrets of how she dealt....deals....with Mulder's dogged determination, his search for the truth in all things.  She tells me about Emily, about Melissa, and how, even now, she feels the guilt for their deaths.  As she tells me about the turmoil inside that others do not see, I wonder if I should tell her that Mulder was once the same.  But I know that could tip the scales.  I have taken Mulder's role in her life.

It is a role I accept with resignation, knowing that I am but an interim player whose scenes will be cut really, but it stings the way a ill-gotten gain always does.  This is a role I have been prepared for all my life.

I spend my days searching for him the only way I know how to, searching the skies and hacking into computer databases and files containing UFO reports.  I do this for myself, for Frohike and Langly, but....I do it for her, to find the man she knows to be the father of her child.  She is what drives me, if I am going to truly be frank.  Ah, hell.  Let's be totally frank.  Something in the bittersweet resignation of her voice reminds me of Suzanne.  And it resounds in my heart like the soprano sting of a harpsichord.  When I hear it, I know I will do anything for this woman to whom I am a mere surrogate.

I can't resist the opportunity to be something I'm not, to to be the rescuer of a damsel whose prince is undoubtedly someone else.  In high school it was Deirdre, opposite me in the science lab, who needed homework help.  I clumsily aimed to grasp her heart, and she laughed softly and turned me down.  She told me in my yearbook that I was the guy every girl should be so lucky to have.  The irony of that statement, made by a girl who dated a modern-day Marquis de Sade, was not lost on me.

I was attracted to Suzanne in much the same way, seeing the void and wanting so badly to have the luck of filling it.  Beauty was a secondary issue; here was a woman I could be a hero for.  But even she walked away, and the kiss she granted me tasted of the regret and sympathy I never wanted, but somehow received.  She wanted me, but didn't want me all in the same breath.

Scully's still on the phone.  Not two breaths have passed between us in my rambling thoughts.  She draws another, needing to say more to clear her head.  But she surprises me....and yet, I knew I could expect it.

"Byers, can you come over?"

She doesn't want to be alone.  I can't say I blame her, but guys like me know how the evening will end.  She will lay in my arms, and fall asleep.  Come morning she'll peck my cheek in gratitude, and our lives will continue as though this night never happened.

And when Mulder returns, she'll leap into his arms, and I will fade in her eyes, my importance diminished by his galactic presence.  I will be a godfather to her child, an uncle to him or her.  I will be there.  I will be there *for* her.

Emulate him?  Or take his place?  Do I go over, or do I beg off, not wanting to be disappointed in the end?

"Of course.  Be there in two shakes."

Mulder is a man I never envied, until I met the woman Scully.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
fin.