TITLE: The Conversation by the Carillon AUTHOR: Brandon D. Ray DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name stays on it and no money changes hands. SPOILER WARNING: Very, very minor spoiler for Momento Mori RATING: PG, mostly for theme rather than any specific language or action. CONTENT WARNING: None CLASSIFICATION: V,A; M/S Friendship SUMMARY: This conversation occurs in the middle of my story "Seven Days in November"; it is the literary equivalent of an outtake. It could not be included in SDiN for various reasons, all of which remain sound; however, the Blessed Saint Scully appeared to me in a dream and insisted that this story also needed to be told. It does not stand alone very well, but on the other hand, it isn't very long. THE CONVERSATION BY THE CARILLON - An Outtake from SEVEN DAYS IN NOVEMBER by Brandon D. Ray Dana Scully scuffed through the snow, hands stuffed in her pockets for warmth, keeping quiet company with her troubled partner as he marched round and round the carillon at Arlington National Cemetery. She knew that he would talk to her when he was ready, and as always, she would be there for him. Just as he was always there for her. On a nearby park bench sat her brother Bill and his friend, Jiggs Casey. From the looks Jiggs and Bill were casting in their direction, she knew that they were talking about her and Mulder, but she didn't care. She no longer had time for conventionalities and proprieties. Finally, Mulder stopped walking, and turned to face her. "You know," he said in a deceptively calm voice, "I really believed it when I told you the truth would save us." She nodded silently, not daring to speak, not wanting to interrupt. After a moment of silence, he went on, "I really thought that if we could just find the truth, all would be well in the end." "The truth shall make you free, Mulder," she ventured quietly. He nodded sharply. "I've wanted to believe that, Scully," he replied. "I've lived by that; it's been my religion." His eyes fell on the gold chain around her neck, and he slipped his fingers under it and gently pulled the cross from beneath her coat. "Like this is for you." He dropped his hand back to his side. "The truth still matters, Mulder," she told him earnestly, and reached up and lightly caressed his cheek. "Perhaps now more than ever." He hesitated, then said, "You do know that we're going to die, don't you?" Scully felt something catch in her throat, and her vision blurred slightly. Well, at least it was out in the open. She nodded quietly. "I know. I've known that since Monday evening." Two days ago. Was it really only two days? "But the moment of death is when the truth matters most of all." "I'll never lie to you again, Scully." "And I'll never lie to you, Mulder." They stood looking into each other's eyes for a moment; then Mulder's melancholy smile changed to his patented smirk, and a twinkle entered his eyes. "You know," he said, "if we were actors in a movie, we would now find a bed and spend one last night locked in the throws of grand passion before going out to face our doom." Scully laughed at the image, and sniffled slightly. "That's a very romantic thought," she said. "But where would Bill sleep?" "He could sit up in the lobby," Mulder said. Then he shook his head, and was suddenly serious again. "But we don't need that, Scully. That's not us. That's not real. If we did that, we would not be who we are." His eyes flicked up from her face past her shoulder. "It looks like the summit conference is over," he said. Scully turned to see Jiggs Casey walking away down the hill. Her brother Bill stood a few feet from the bench the two men had been sitting on, watching his friend leave, and looking as if his heart was about to break. "Let's go," she said to her partner. "We've still got some work to do." Fini -- “It’s not till you get back to nature that you realize EVERYTHING’S out to get you.” Special Agent Dana Scully “Quagmire”