RocketMan XXVII
Star Gazing
(1/1)
Date sent: Wed, 25 Jun 1997 23:53:55 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah blah.
Content: MSR!!!!!! This is full blown so you non
shippers head for the hills! Auhtor's Notes: This is
rated P. No sex. No violence. Something I can show my
parents if they ask what I've been doing on the computer
all night. But don't leave. It'll be worth your while.
=-}
Distribute where you may.
Star Gazing
"It's just hovering there, on the edge of the horizon,
like a swollen lightning bug," she said quietly,
indicating with a nod the yellow full moon watching
them. "A lightning bug?" he questioned. "Firefly." "Oh."
Mulder turned his face back to the night sky and peered
intently into the black void, as if the stars' distances
could reveal to him the secrets of life, or unlock the
mysteries of the woman beside him. Scully kept her blue
eyes on the brightness of the moon, preferring its light
to the the darkness that encompassed the stars,
swallowing up their inadequate light. The iris of her
eyes, he noticed, could barely be distinguished from the
blue, turned black by the sky above them, just as the
stars seemed to melt into the dark. But the yellow of
the moon was also mirrored there, to make her eyes seem
catlike if he didn't look too hard. Mulder leaned
against the hood of his car, stretching his neck up to
meet the gaze of the stars, easily picking out Ursa
Minor from the North Star and its sister constellation,
Ursa major. Then Hercules, Leo, and . . . Cancer. How
ugly that a constellation would have the name of
something so invading, so cruel and heartless. To him,
the stars were friendly mythical creatures that held
hope for Samantha's return, but to Scully, they were
white and cold, little tears in the absolute darkness.
They had once been friends, when her father had shown
her the sky and the telescope, but they had turned to
enemies, giving her pain and grief and missing months.
She shuddered and returned her gaze to the moon. It was
hanging heavily in the sky, pregnant with yellow light,
and illuminating the shrouded world like a child's
nightlight. Calm, comforting, remiding her of mother's
promises. "Mulder?" she asked. "Yeah?" His voice came
suddenly, from right beside her and she was thrown back
into reality. "How come the stars have always been
looked to for guidance, for religious significance?" He
sighed and rolled his head to see her better."Maybe
because they are a testimony to something greater than
ourselves, some higher power, some greater good, that
calls us to seek meaning in our lives." "What testimony
do you see in them?" Scully watched his lips move before
he began to speak, seeing how they were bright with
moonlight then dark with night. "I see that there are
things I will never know, things I can not comprehend.
But that I should not give up because of that, only that
I should strive further on, to attain all that I can."
Scully leaned back next to him on the hood and turned
her face suddenly to him. "Do you believe the future is
written in the stars?" she asked. He cocked his head.
"Do you?" "No. Why would the stars care about humans?
They have their own private universe out there and we
are such a small part of it. The stars would not align
themselves just to suit one tiny species. Humans have
always been rather egocentric." He nodded and said,
"Well, I don't think my future is mapped out for me by
millions of cohesive balls of gas and vapor. But I think
that the stars give us wisdom, if only to show us that
there are things out there besides ourselves." She
sighed. How had it changed into a talk about EBE's?
"Scully?" "Yes, Mulder?" "Wouldn't it be nice to be a
star when you die?" She trembled and he felt her
quivering beside him. "Scully?" But she said nothing, so
he put his arms around her and rocked her, like he would
a small child who was afraid of the dark. "I don't want
to die, Mulder. Even if I were a star-" Her own sudden
sobbing cut her off. He continued to rock her and
smoothed her hair, feeling its softness glide through
his fingers like butterfly wings. "I'm here, Scully. I'm
here." he murmured because he did not have the heart to
tell her she wouldn't die. He couldn't make empty
promises. "Mulder.." She seemed to whimper in his arms
and very lightly, he placed a kiss on her lips, wet with
her tears. She sighed and shut her eyes, relaxing
against him, as if his kiss had drained all her
strength. "Scully?" he whispered. She opened her eyes
hesitantly and he leaned forward and kissed her nose,
gingerly. This time she gave him a half smile and a shy
look. With her bright hair and pale face, mixing with
shiny tears, she could already be a star, long dead and
gone. He swallowed the lump in his throat and buried his
face in her hair. She turned to him and kissed his
cheek, then his lips, until he was filled with the same
heat as a sun gone nova. "Scully," he whipsered and she
looked in his eyes, dark with swirling emotion, dark
like the night sky. "I love you." she said. His eyes
sparked, a shooting star across the sky's darkness. She
took his hands and entwined her fingers with his. "I
love you, Scully, even when, even when, you do become a
star." She looked back to the sky. "You said the stars
told you there were things you'd never know, that there
are things besides ourselves. I think the stars just
told me who else was here." And Mulder realized that he
had been watching her as she spoke - star gazing.
End. Not too sappy, I hope?
Adios
RocketMan
Sunshine
(1/1)
Date sent: Sat, 16 Aug 1997 01:06:05 +0000
Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations,com<
Disclaimer: M&S belong to CC and I am not doing this for persoanl gain.
No wait, take that back. I do get something out of doing this, it's just
not anything material.
I mean what can I take with me when I die? Certainly not money.
Notes: This isn't bad. Rated P.
MSR--future--
Sunshine (1/1)
<Please be careful with me
I'm sensitive and I'd
Like to stay that way>
--I'm Sensitive, Jewel
Mulder walked quietly into his baby girl's room and watched as Scully
lulled her to sleep in the huge cherry wood rocking chair. The blinds
were slanted to let in the newly appearing sunlight and it shone in
golden hues across her face, and gave her hair a heavenly look. He
breathed silently to keep his presence unknown to the baby, but he knew
that Scully realized he was there.
She stood and shifted her ever so slightly into the small crib, placing
her on her back and against the soft foam things they gave to new
mothers at the hospital.
Scully turned and the radiance of motherhood shone around her.
His breathing sped and he walked carefully into the baby's room, arms
held out.
She sank gratefully into his strong embrace and sighed deeply against
his chest. She was exhausted.
He rubbed her back with one hand and brushed her cheek softly with the
other, all movements that could get her to relax.
"I hate colic," she murmured with a small laugh.
He smiled into her hair and propelled her back to their bedroom.
He slipped her under the sheets and pulled the bedspread over her,
warding off the November chill.
The early dawn was invading the room and he closed the blinds and
perched on the edge of the bed. He stroked her face and hummed softly to
her the only song that popped into his head.
She smiled, eyes closed, as she recognized the lullaby and snuggled
deeper into the pillow, clutching his hand.
Soflty his words melted into sleep and she was gone, lost to the world.
He detatched his hand from her grip and went back down the hall to his
little baby girl's room. He heard soft noises coming from the crib and
he peered down at her.
Hannah was sleeping peacefully, looking a lot like her mother had been
just five seconds ago. Her thick black hair and soft pink skin was
framed by the coming of the morning sunshine and Mulder reveled in the
pre-dawn glimpse of his little girl.
He couldn't get enough of her.
"Hey, Hannah, baby." he whispered and stroked the side of her cheek,
liking the way the soft fuzz felt like a smaller version of Scully's
cheek.
Hannah stirred and opened her mouth.
Mulder snatched her up before she could even begin her cry and had her
in his arms, patting her back and massaging her tummy as Hannah was
reminded of the colic.
He sat in the cherry rocking chair, the only thing that could really
soothe her apart from her mother and hoped he hadn't woken Scully. She
liked to do everything sometimes, but she was exhausted and needed the
rest.
He held her in his arms and stroked her stomach, as he watched in
helplessness as the pain filled her eyes with tears.
The sun broke over them and it dazzled Hannah.
She stopped crying and turned her round face to the sun.
Mulder watched in amazement as her blue eyes opened and gazed at the
light coming in the blinds.
He continued to stroke her stomach and murmured to her, letting the
crying lull ease her back to sleep.
Her face still in the sunshine, Hannah's eyes closed, shutting away that
beautiful blue behind her lids. Her body went limp like jelly and she
was out.
Mulder smiled and laid her back in the crib.
She stirred and he began to sing softly.
"You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away."
Hannah smiled in her sleep and Mulder felt his heart swell.
He watched her for a minute longer then crept back to bed.
As he got in Scully murmured, "Mmmm, Mulder....."
He wrapped his arms around her, just as he had for Hannah.
She snuggled into him and her body was bathed in a pale yellow glow from
the light straining to get through the closed blinds.
His women, bathed healing light.
His only sunshine.
end
adios
RokcetMan
Surrender I
(1/1)
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 1998 22:35:01 +0000
Author: RM >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox.
Notes: M/S friendship. The first in a series about the vulnerable
moments in the night between the partners.
~~~~~
Surrender
~~~~~
His voice echoes through the hall.
She freezes, finds her breath too sharp, too loud.
He comes closer, inching through the darkness to her, hands out and
reaching for her.
She backs away with a muffled whimper of fear, every nerve in her
sensitized to the feel of darkness and and the feel of panic.
His hand brushes her; she jumps away, fast away, moving like a scared
child, moving with a speed found only in fear.
Hitching breath, choked screams, shivering uncontrollably as death comes
laughing after her.
And then she jerks-
-jerks-
into a dark room with hands clutching her softly, a voice smoothing over
her nightmare.
She breathes, finds the air delicate, unopressing.
"Mulder?"
"Are you okay, Scully? I heard you in the other room."
She nods in the dark, lets her body find normal again.
"Just a bad dream."
He lets go of her shoulders, smooths her hair with an absent-minded
caress, and pushes his body up from her motel bed.
"Okay. Sleep better, Scully."
He disappears back through the connecting door, the light from his room
showing her he had been watching television.
She turns over in the bed, realizing she was screaming: her throat is
hoarse and his TV is turned up.
Her eyes close to a more profound dark.
She shivers, feels things watching her, feels hands reaching for her.
Feels the brush of a hand across her stomach.
Panic immediately finds a clutch on her, and she shoots from the bed,
scrambles to the door, and throws it open, gasping in breath as she runs
into Mulder.
"Scully?"
She buries her head deep into his chest, trembling with the feel of a
hand across her skin.
"I can't let myself fall back asleep," she says softly.
He understands; he feels the same panic at night, the same terror
clutching hard.
"Watch TV with me, Scully," he says, saving her from having to look weak
by asking, making it seem as if she is doing him a favor.
It's what she loves about him - she always has her dignity with him.
He takes her hand and leads her back to his queen sized motel bed,
crawling in and taking her with him.
Her body is tense against him, still in the clutches of a blind panic,
still reeling from a too real dream.
She lets the blue light of late night filter over her.
He puts an arm around her softly, snuggles her up closer to him.
She lays her head on his chest, breathing as her heart slows.
Blinking, eyes scratchy, she tries to stay awake, to stay away from
darkness and hallways crowded with her own fear, to keep herself from a
hand reaching through the black.
His fingers smooth her hair, run in rhythmic circles along her skin,
stroke her until she's closing her eyes, feeling peacefulness descend.
When her breathing slows to almost nothing, he looks down.
She's asleep, secure in his strength, finding respite in his arms.
He gives her a feather of a kiss and turns his eyes back to the
television, wishing simply being in her arms could banish his own
nightmares.
Close enough though.
The night slips smooth silky hands along his cheeks, down his jaw, and
trails the dark along his chest, to swallow his partner.
She stirs, murmurs, and continues on in dreamless sleep.
Mulder lets his own eyes close, ignores the hands reaching for him, the
demons swirling around.
Closes his eyes and remembers her touch, dwells in her feel, remains in
her warmth.
Night becomes a friend, and he surrenders.
~~~~~
end
adios
Surrender II (1/1)
Date: Sat, 25 Jul 1998 13:43:37 +0000
Author: RM >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
see first one for other
~~~~~
Surrender
~~~~~
She walks into his apartment quickly, nervous anticipation clutching
baby hands at her, dragging her down.
His place is dark, reeking of stale deli turkey and mayonaise set out
too long.
She slips into the shadows and makes her way to the couch.
He lays there, sweating, shaking, shivering. Tightly curled, Mulder
closes his eyes to the fever.
"Mulder?"
His eyes jerk under his eyelids and he makes a grunt.
"Mulder, this isn't a hallucination. I'm here."
He gives a quirk of a smile and opens his eyes.
"How'd you know?" His voice is rough, scratched with the claws of
sickness.
"I didn't, I just got worried."
He nods and his body suddenly tenses as a violent cough racks his frame.
"Mulder, you need to see a doctor. . ."
"I am seeing one. And she's beautiful. . ."
Scully shakes her head and strokes the sweaty hair from his face,
remembering her little girl in a hospital bed with the same feverish
look.
He shudders hard and clutches her hand.
She extricates herself from him and stands, heading for the kitchen and
his well-stocked supply of extra strength Tylenol.
Grabbing the pills and a glass of water she eases back to him, sitting
gently beside him and touching his cheek to wake him up.
His eyes open to reveal an intense heat there.
"You got your hair cut," he says.
She smiles, touched with his notice.
"Here, Mulder. Drink this."
He takes the medicine, eyes still trained on her shorn hair, absorbing
every small detail of it.
His hand reaches out sifts through the colored pieces of her hair,
snaking through like a comb.
"Scully . . ."
"I'm here, Mulder."
He sighs and his eyes drift shut again, his hand falls limply back to
his side, and his body relaxes.
He falls back into fever dreams about doctors with haircuts and little
white pills that dance down his throat.
And in it all he feels tender hands, and small fingers, and light
kisses.
Healing.
Healing.
He surrenders to the touch.
~~~~~
end
adios
RM
Surrender III
Date: Tue, 04 Aug 1998 14:53:47 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully beong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
NOTES:::: This is a stand alone piece, as are the rest. You need not to
have read the other two to understand.
~~~~~
Surrender
~~~~~
The phone rings softly again, carefully insinuating itself into her
dreams of Las Vegas showgirls and strip clubs and poker tables that
don't stop moving around.
Gambling. Taking a chance. Risking things. Why this dream?
She slips back to reality, the details frustratingly out of reach,
knowing only that it was strange, and not her, and not something she
cares to remember anyway.
She picks up the phone, cradles it on the bed as it rings again,
watching the way the keypad lights up.
Then she hesitantly removes the receiver.
"Scully."
A sigh of relief greets her. It is a voice she does not want to hear
tonight.
"It's me. I wondered if you were even going to answer."
He wondered. He has the right to wonder. She wishes she wasn't talking
to him now, wishes she hadn't picked it up, hadn't said her name.
"I answered."
"Thank you."
She pauses, adjusts the bedspread over her chilled body, eyes the clock.
3:13.
Odd time to call. Usually it's two or possibly one . . . not three. By
three he really is asleep.
"Why did you call, Mulder?"
"I miss you."
What was there to miss?
"Why? I'm not usually over at your apartment at three in the morning, am
I? Or have I been missing something?"
Her words are harsh; she knows this, but he needs to back away, to give
her back her space, to let her reassert some control over herself again.
"No. . . No, I mean, today. I missed you all today. Why'd you leave?"
<Because you are too close. Because your body sidles up next to mine and
doesn't let me calm down. Because I need you and I can't allow myself to
need anyone.>
"I was tired."
"Of me?"
She pauses, wondering at how much truth he actually knew.
If he knows, why does he not act on it? Why tease her like this and make
her suffer?
"Yes. I was tired of you."
His breath stops short, his throat makes a sort of hitched sob.
Maybe he really does not know. Maybe his words are a way to condemn
himself further.
"Not of you, Mulder. Really-"
"You just said it. You said me. You are. I know it."
"Just of things together. Too much has happened and I need to find ways
around it."
"Just let it be."
"Speaking words of wisdom?" she whispers.
"Let it be." His words echo back, things that she knows are right, but
can't face.
"And do what? Let it be what it is and lose everything in the process?"
She can hear a smile on his face.
"No. Let it be what it is and gain everything in the process."
"I can't just sit back, Mulder. I have to have some kind of . . . of . .
."
"Control?"
"Yes." She whispers it softly.
"No. You're stronger than that. We control only this thing between us,
nothing else. Whatever happens . . . it happens. But nothing can take
away, can control what is already there. Nothing."
She wants to believe this. She wants to let go of her fears and her
panic.
"How do I let it go?"
"You answered the phone, didn't you?"
"Yes," she says, twisting the cord with a finger and shifting further
into the sheets.
"You had that control to make the decision, but you have no control over
what I say. None. I could have said something and hurt you, or something
to confuse you. . . but you still picked up the phone."
She smiles, lets the images come. "So I just have to pick up the phone,
is that it?"
"In a very basic, very simplified way, yes. Just answer when I call."
She snorts. "I will not be at your beck and call."
He chuckles. "Darn. I was hoping you would."
"Too bad. Find another woman."
"I've already found mine."
Her breath stops, her body stills.
Her room is quiet, dark, oppressing.
One of those things, he's said it. One of the things that she has no
control over, but that make her react.
"Are you going to let it go? Let it happen?" he whispers, his voice deep
with something she doesn't recognize at first, mainly because she's
never heard it in him.
Fear. His voice is afraid of what she'll say now.
"I've never been one for giving up," she says, even though she wants to
say yes, yes, please control it all for me.
"Not giving up, Scully. Giving in. Giving in to yourself, to me."
Giving in to Mulder. The sound of it makes her shiver, makes her want to
reach for her blankets and wrap herself in warmth until he comes for
her.
"*I'll* give in. . ."
His admission startles her. She hasn't thought of what he has to do for
this, only her own sacrifices on the altar of Something More.
"Mulder?"
"Yes."
"I promise, I'll never give up."
"I know."
"So, then . . . . . . I surrender."
~~~~~
end
adios
RM
Date sent: Sun, 10 May 1998 22:14:23 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder, the X-Files belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No
fringe intended, but why do I always start to type, "do not belong to" .
. .?
Summary: Someone, actually, Darkstryder, told me that in my stories,
Mulder abuses Scully a lot, and she thought it was more of a mutual
abuse. So, she's inspired this one, all to her, and now I'm writing. You
could say it was a mutual abuse story.
(This is not *physical* - sorry for all you sadists out there)
SPOILER:::::FOLIE A DEUX:::::US5
Temporary
====
"And this sea that divides us is a
temporary one."
--"Temporary One" Fleetwood Mac
====
She licked her lip and chewed on the side of it for a moment before
looking at him.
He was glaring at the side panel of the elevator, his jaw working
silently and making him look a lot more intimidating that he was.
She sighed and wondered why he couldn't just let it go.
"Scully."
"No Mulder. I refuse to let you continue in this mass delusion."
"You saw it," he said quietly.
"I saw something. It was dark."
He snorted. "How many times have I heard that one...."
She glanced at him, her mouth set in the manner that told him she was
irritated.
"In five years of working together you should have seen it coming."
He winced with the throwback of his words and leaned forlornly against
the elevator, listening to its whirring of cables as it slid to a stop.
It chimed and opened and he stepped out carefully, his lip still
throbbing from where the 'crazy' guy had backhanded him with his own
gun, and his wrists aching from his futile wrestling with the
restraints.
Scully followed behind him and he could hear her kind of sigh as they
passed through the hallway of the basement, its dark drab walls echoeing
her discontent.
It was going to be a summer of her discontent; he was fairly certain of
that.
His too.
She stopped behind him as he fumbled with the keys, then snatched them
from his clumsy fingers and opened the door herself.
She held it open for him with a look that plainly said, "What am I going
to do with you?"
He shrugged and gave her a pitiful look, hoping she'd go easy on him.
Glancing around the room, he noticed she had been sitting in his chair
while he was gone, at his desk too. The papers on top were neatly
stacked and the pencils were all sharpened - something he never had time
to do unless she was gone (like on vacation to Maine).
"Made yourself comfortable I see." he said.
She gave him another one of her Doubting Thomas looks: the one that said
he had no right to even start with her because he'd get it all slammed
back in his face.
He knew she could probably do it too.
"I told you so" rang in his ears.
She moved around to sit in her customary spot in front of his desk, but
he moved to block her and sat down in it instead.
He pointed to his chair and pushed her towards it.
She eyed him, felt his forehead, and frowned, all without words.
"I'm not delusional anymore, Scully." He emphasized the delusional and
the anymore to display his anger with her for passing it off as 'folie a
deux.'
She frowned again but sat down in his chair, slidng into it carefully as
if it would bite.
He watched her for a long moment then sighed and shook his head,
realizing that what she had done for him was more than he deserved from
her.
She said nothing about his wild accusations to Mr. Pinkus, nothing of
his crazy behavior at the woman's house, and not one single "I told you
so" formed on her lips.
He was grateful.
"Hey, this chair is pretty uncomfortable."
She nodded and said nothing.
"Look-"
"No Mulder. I don't know what happened, you don't know . . . well, you
think you know. But let's just leave it at that, okay?"
He nodded.
It was okay again. They were okay again.
"But it sure was almost *right* to see you in the psych ward."
He frowned and she raised her eyebrow.
Yeah, they were okay again.
end
adios
RM
The Kiss
(1/1)
Date: Sun, 20 Jul 1997 16:06:02 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Warning: MSR, Scully has died, but no Mulder incredible angst.
Note: This is for marianne :)
The Kiss
"And in an instant all things disappeared...
All - all expired save thee - save less than thou:
Save only the divine light in thine eyes.
Save but the soul in thine uplifted eyes.
I saw but them - they were the world to me.
I saw but them - saw only them for hours -
Saw only them until the moon went down...
And thou, a ghost, amid teh entombing trees
Didst glide away. Only thine eyes remained.
They would not go - they never yet have gone.
Lighting my lonely pathway home that night,
They have not left me (as my hopes have) since."
--"To Helen" Edgar Allan Poe
Mulder watched the moon from the car window, letting his firstborn son
drive him home. The moon always reminded him of her. Her eyes always
held the same aloof coldness, the same sparkling beauty.
His son was watching him carefully he knew, but the child had nothing to
worry about. His life with her had been long and very happy, very full.
He missed her deeply, but he would not dishonor her memory by committing
suicide.
He loved her. He ached for her. But he had resigned himself to spending
the evenings ferreting out old cases that made need some work, and the
mornings thinking of her touch.
The afternoons he spent with his family, playing with his grandbaby -
the grandchild she had just missed......
It hurt, hell yeah. But it hurt good. Like when you sprain your ankle
sliding home.
He enjoyed thinking about her, about the times they had together.
And he still couldn't get out of his head, the way her eyes had stared
into him as she died. The so blue orbs of magic for him, telling him she
would always love him, always be with him.
Her eyes were imprinted in his memory. Even when he felt the moment of
panic because he could barely recall her face, he could always see her
eyes. Every minute glory of them, in his soul.
His son dropped him off at the old house, walking him to the door and
making sure he got in and everything.
It was annoying, but sweet, the way he acted exactly like Scully did.
He put on his pajamas, remembering that she had liked this pair.
He closed his eyes and felt her next to him.
His eyes popped open and it *was* her.
Again.
She smiled, looking just as he had when he had told her he loved her.
Fresh and young and alive.
She moved and took his face in her hands, pulling him closer.
Her lips touched his like a whisper.
Then she was leaning into him, her mouth clashing with his for space and
her teeth nibbling his lip.
He grinned and realized he was making out, at his age no less, with a
ghost.
She let his tongue enter her mouth and he felt the wild taste that was
pure Scully.
He sighed when she was gone.
Nobody believed him.
They said he was crazy, that he was imagining her.
He wasn't imagining that kiss.
Adios
Rocketman
These Dreams
(1/1)Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully do not belong to me. They are owned by CC,
1013, and Fox. No infringement is intended.
These Dreams
"These dreams go on when I close my eyes. Every second of the night, I
live another life."
--'These Dreams,' Heart
She hated listening to his torrent of self abuse, hated because she
could not stop it, and hated because nothing could stop it. Mulder was
destined to run with remorse, destined to drown in despair.
So she had gotten up in the middle of one of his 'woe is me' speeches
and walked out.
She just wanted some peace, a sense of justice and fairness again.
All alone in her apartment with music playing and fresh clean notebook
papes spread before her, she could achieve that.
She wrote her demons out in her journals, she exorcised her spirits in
fantasy and daily hurts and musings. She wasn't a terribly good writer,
but it gave her comfort, and that's all she needed.
She didn't have to talk to someone like Mulder did.
This night, though, she felt bad for having walked out on him, for
ignoring his need and his hurt and focusing on herself.
But she desperately needed a chance to find her center again.
Mulder's sorrow wasn't the place for it.
So she wrote and frowned and grew angry as she did and let tears of
frustration fall over him, fall over once clean pages, and then it was
done, and everything was all right again.
She thought.
~~~~~~~~
Mulder sat back in his couch, trying not to let the events of the day
catch up with him until it was lighter outside, until he had some time
to absorb everything.
It was becoming quite clear that she was fed up with him, that she had
finally realized what a deranged man he was.
Even *he* was tired of being the sorrowful, dark, macabre man that he
was.
He just wanted a bit of peace, for any length of time.
A point where he could sit down and not think of Samantha or
conspiracies or men who smoked. He wanted a rest.
He'd been running in this paranormal race his whole life and he was
ready for the finish line.
He was about ready to simply quit.
Find an island where no one knew him and hide out......disappear.
Disappear with Scully, maybe.
If she'd like......if she would even want to go anywhere with him.
Raise a family and have little natives running around, climbing cocconut
trees and laughing in sunshine.....
Yeah, and while he was dreaming, maybe he could have Scully's cancer
cured and his sister back, please.....
He had finally resolved to himself that they wouldn't be giving Sam
back, or even a cure for Scully. Why should they? They were the masters
of the game and needed no one. He'd been trying to tell her that.
They just didn't care about the lives of innocents.
That's how it was with them.
When you ceased to be amusing, you ceased to be.
Scully had ceased to be amusing.....
The thought sickened him.
It made him feel trite, this vanity, this searching after illusions and
casting wishes on falling stars.
He had to leave. He wanted a different life and different ideas. He
wanted fresh grass under his feet and a clear stream running in his
backyard. He wanted light and love and laughter -- he wanted an end to
this pereptual gloom.
He eventually fell alseep in his familiar position.
~~~~~~~~
Scully is standing in front of him, facing away, her white dress
reflecting the silver of the moon, and her hair dark in the night.
The waves crash around her, and even though she stands in the surf, she
is not wet and her feet leave no marks in the sand as she walks ahead.
He watches her slide across the shore, as silent and pale as a spector,
her shoes dangling from her fingertips.
He sprints forward and catches up with her, touching her shoulder as
waves crash around them.
She turns and as he leans forward to see her, to tell her it's not his
fault, she falls away into a million silver doves that stretch their
shining wings and fly up to the nightsky.
As he watches them disappear, the sea swallows him up and he drowns in
its healing, salty embrace.
~~~~~~~~
Mulder is curled into fetal postion on a larger gold altar, his body is
dwarfed by the immensity of the grand cathedral. She is halfway down
the aisle of the church, running to him, but his eyes are blank and he
does not see her.
She halts at the altar, climbing their steps in a slow, respectful
manner, before taking the ceremonial knife from its place.
Its dull metal lends no remorse.
She touches him with the flat of the blade and he uncurls, naked before
her.
As if he were a corpse on her cold steel table, she begins the
dissection; his eyes open and he watches her movements.
As his blood spills onto the gold, she trembles and her hands stops; she
cannot be doing this to him.
He takes her hand in his and guides her, even as he spasms in his death
throes.
The agony on his face matches the agony on hers, but neither can stop
their combined hands.
And then it is done.
She crawls up next to him, pressing her heat to his chill and digs the
knife into her heart.
But she will not bleed.
She cannot die.
Her anguish is eternal.
~~~~~~~~
Dana woke up, feeling sick, and ran to the bathroom.
She collapsed to the floor of the cold hard tile and shook for the
clutching coldness of her dream.
~~~~~~~~
Mulder woke in a panic-filled frenzy, his heart beating a war rhythm in
his ribs.
His eye caught on the moon through his window, regal in its beauty,
frightening in its frown.
~~~~~~~~
She opened the door and found him whole and couldn't help but slumping
against the doorframe in relief.
"Mulder." she said.
He sighed and looked to see if she hated his intrusion.
"This has got to stop Scully."
She blinked and backed away.
"I'm killing you."
They both whispered it and the truth struck out at them with fierceness
and hurt.
She thought he was talking about one thing and he was thinking of
another, but it was true, too, too true.
She stepped aside and let him in.
He remained standing and she looked in his eyes for the truth and the
fear and found neither.
"Mulder, I - We're not going well."
His breath was an explosion. "I know. And we need to somehow fix it. I
can't do this alone."
She knew he meant his life. Not fixing them.
He couldn't do *life* alone.
"I can't either."
It was simple. It didn't require more than monosyllabic words and it
held no threats, no double entendres.
But it meant more than a mere three words.
And now they didn't know how to go, where their road was anymore.
"Maybe, Scully." He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Maybe we need to
be apart for awhile, clear some things up within ourselves."
She studied him. He had already decided on this course of action long
before she had let him in.
"I'm taking a few weeks off to kind of hunt around."
"Looking for what?"
His eyes blazed and he looked at her intensely.
"Myself."
He turned from her and opened the door softly, leaving no sounds behind
him as he left.
No sounds except for the startled sigh of Dana Scully.
And she let him go.
end
adios
RocketMan
They're Green
(1/1)Date: Fri, 29 Aug 1997 23:21:52 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: M&S belong to CC and Fox, and probably 1013, but since CC
owns that then I really don't need to mention it, do I?
Thanks: To Julie Burnham, who gave me great feedback, enough so that I
thought of another story even. See? This is the greatness in store for
you when you comment on my story. See? up at the top, my email addy.
Just read this and hit >Reply to Sender< or you can type in my addy. And
then, you too can write me a long letter about how crazy I am!! =-)
They're Green (1/1)
I can't seem to stop noticing his eyes.
Mulder's rich expressive beautiful eyes.
The kind that stare right through me until I am perfectly dizzy with the
headiness of them.
But no matter how long I stare, how much I drool, I can't figure out
their color.
I guess I could always ask Agent Scully, but she might think I'm mental
or something.
But I really want to know.
He has got to be the most provacative, desirable man on this planet. And
those eyes are haunting me.
We have this bet going as to which color his eyes are, brown, green, or
hazel.
I say they're green, but hazel is also a good choice.
They just keep changing.
You'd think that at some point they'd be just one color, and maybe when
I'm not around they are, but usually, it's seven thousand different
shades of green, brown, and even blue.
I think the most crazy our little office has gotten was when we started
writing down the day and time when Agent Mulder walked by, and then put
a lengthy desacription of the eye color seen.
I swear, there were thirteen different hues every single time.
There are only twelve in our office.
I'm the youngest, and the least experienced, so maybe that's why they
picked on me.
They made me go down to the basement and ask him what color they were.
Everyone was sick of guessing, and they wanted to know.
I was the poor soul who got to go down there and ask him.
Ask Agent Mulder, hunk of the FBI, Spooky himself, what color his eyes
were like some lovesick high school girl.
I was quaking like a leaf.
He called for me to come in and I about dropped through the floor.
Agent Scully was sitting opposite him, in her Chair, as we've come to
call it, since she doesn't have a desk, her face pensive.
"Uh, excuse me, Agent Mulder?"
Did that mouse squeak come from me?
"Yes?"
<Oh.........how could I be doing this? I'm a timid, shy, introvert. I'm
about to stroke here.>
"I was wondering.......um......"
"Wondering what?"
Now, Agent Scully was regarding me carefully, and the look on her face
said - hurt him and you die.
"I was wondering what color your eyes are" I said it in a rush, trying
to hurry up and get out before I totally made a complete fool of myself.
He watched my cheeks blush and my eyes dart from his face, all in
evidence to my discomfort.
"Well," he said slowly. "They're hazel. But don't go telling people
that. I'd like to keep the air of mystery surrounding me. Tell people
they're green and let them wonder."
I stood there with amazement for a second and then I blushed furiously.
I didn't know what to say. I mumbled thanks and ran out the office.
But back in our little coffee breakroom, I was popular. They all wanted
to know what color his eyes were, and if I hadn't just hid out in the
restroom for ten minutes.
Some even asked if I was afraid of him.
Of course not, he was quite funny.
As if we'd had a conversation or something.
And finally, everyone was gathered to hear the ultimate truth.
I held up my head and announced in a clear voice.
"They're green."
And at the back, in a corner, I saw Dana Scully, with a small smile on
her lips, thanking me.
end
adios
RocketMan
Tigers
(1/1)Date: Thu, 03 Jul 1997 15:18:01 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: FM and DS belong to CC, 1013, and FOX. The excerpt comes
from 'Les Miserables' - "I Dreamed A Dream" which is sung by, on this
CD, Debbie Bryne, playing Fantine.
Rating: P, friendship S. Maybe MSR if you're inclined to seeing it that
way. ;-)
Author's Notes: This is sort of a companion to A Flower, since they are
both dreaming along the same lines.
Distribute: Anywhere. try to put A Flower with it. They just go better
together.=-}
Tigers (1/1)
"I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving
Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used
And wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung
No wine untasted
But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
As they turn your dream to shame"
What was that? She could hear a faint scratching, as if a cat was
begging to be let in. She turned in her sleep and sighed, as heat and
warmth enveloped her.
Where was she? She could see the heat rising from the ground in waves,
rippling the images before her and causing her to squint in their glare.
She turned and saw endless white beach, stretching before her like time
when one was born. She saw two figures prowling far down, a mile or
more, there animal like bodies wavering in the heat. She sighed and felt
her body struggle to keep control as the relentless heat battered on
her. The beach was oceanless, if that were possible and she saw nothing
to relieve the expanse of white.
She felt herself being prodded, a hand that seemed to rest on her back
and nudge her forward. She began to walk down the beach, drawing closer
to the animals on down, seeing scenes of her life play in the white
grains. The sand under her feet was soft in the beginning, letting her
move with ease and still cool enough not sting her bare feet.
As she drew near the catlike animals, the heat came in undulating waves,
like the surf of the ocean but with heat washing over her and a tide of
weariness drowning her. Then the walk was harder and she tried to hide
her eyes as scene after scene of horror played out along the beach.
There was her father, rebuking her, turning from her in shame as she
told him she had joined the FBI. Then his face again, reluctantly
greeting her for Easter and their fight afterwards. It left a feeling of
acidic terror in her gut and she wanted to throw up.
And then the sand was burning, her feet were being scorched and scalded
and she sat in th sand, not wanting to go on.
But a hand pulled her up and carried her to a cooler place.
She was set down on a grassy area, where it looked as if water had been
discovered and she rested and slaked her thirst for a time. Then she
began paying attention to the scenes flashed before her. There she was
entering the basement for the first time and trying so hard not to be
frightened. Scully smiled and stood, and then began to walk again.
The patches were rough in some places and green in others, and she
enjoyed watching the scenes before her so much that she didn't realize
she hadn't gotten so close until she heard the growl.
She froze and her heart skipped, her breath came after a second of blind
intense fear.
She looked up.
Tigers.
A dozen, a hundred, a thousand, waiting for her.
She had walked right into them, she was so preoccupied with what had
been happening in the pictures. She had forgotten the danger.
One circled in closer, moving with a morbidly graceful flow of muscle
and tendon. She stayed absolutely still, thinking that if she just
stopped walking they would leave her alone.
They circled closer, until she could see the yellow eyes and hear the
throaty purr. The boldest of the thousand came so close she could have
reached out and petted him.
<Oh my gosh there are tigers! Tigers! Oh help, please help me.>
She started to tremble and one of the brighter, more livid tigers came
close enough for her to feel his breath puffing out of his nostrils.
She shut her eyes and waited for the teeth.
A lick down her arm made her start and she opened her eyes to see yellow
staring at her.
She gasped and the tiger, the brave one, came and nuzzled her.
<What?>
She backed away and bumped into another tiger. It snarled and and
lunged, but the brave one jumped and knocked it away. She realized it
was trying to protect her. The tiger was trying to protect her.
She walked closely beside it, one hand clutching his silky fur the other
clecnhed in fear and uncontrolled panic.
And then the attack came.
Half of the thousand sprung at once, throwing her away from her
protector and they savagely ripped into the brave tiger. She heard his
growl of painand watched as he fought with every bit of strength in him,
tearing and clawing and hissing.
But as one of the cats got a chunk of his neck, shaking, Scully looked
into the tiger's eyes and saw something, someone.
Mulder.
<Oh no, oh no, oh please no.>
She ran into the midst and shoved at the furry bodies, ignoring the
musky scent of death and the occasional snaps of jaws. She heard bones
crunch and sobbed, kneeling beside the battered body of her protector.
The tigers circled at a distance, like jackals.
She pulled his head into her lap and looked hesitantly in the eyes.
There was nothing.
Dana Scully gasped and woke to find herself sitting up, sweat and the
smell of fear heavy in her room.
She blinked and caught her breath.
Tigers, something about tigers.
She closed her eyes and laid back.
Just as she did she thought she saw a light.
Her eyes opened and she saw yellow slits in her face, staring back.
Dana jumped and they were gone.
Tigers, something about tigers.
end,
adios
RocketMan
Torn
(1/1)Date sent: Fri, 27 Mar 1998 23:13:11 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to Fox, 1013, and CC. No
infringement is intended. This was inspired by the song "Torn" by
Natalie somebody, and the episode "The Red and the Black."
SPOILER FOR "THE RED AND THE BLACK" and REDUX
SPOILER
SPOILER
SPOILER
(Okay, that should be enough....)
Torn
Dreams were all right, she thought. They weren't the worst thing in the
world. She could handle the dreams.
Dana just couldn't handle Mulder.
He seemed so lost. Just adrift in whatever was going on out there. And
she did not want to follow him to that kind of aimless wandering.
She had nothing better to do that night but sit there and pray that the
nightmares didn't come again and think about Mulder.
Thinking about Mulder was better than dwelling on the dreams.
Mulder was kind of like a little boy who's defended the good name of
Santa Claus his entire life and then was told that Santa didn't even
exist.
Kind of.
And then, he was also like a man in the throes of a mid-life crisis.
Which was to be expected since he was 38 and had nothing to show for his
life except some ratty unsolved files and a partner that would no longer
follow along.
Kind of.
Dana sighed and wished she could follow him, but she really just
couldn't anymore. He had no support and she would not become his
support, his foundation for a Holy War that had neither weapons nor the
Holy Grail.
And yet, she longed to have that kind of abandon, that kind of total
passionate freedom where she could forget that things had to make sense
scientifically and just go with gut feeling.
Of course, she didn't have these desires for long. But long enough.
And one other thing.
He was hurting her.
Sure, she had given such a plausible explanation for not standing beside
him, but it was not really the complete truth. The real matter was that
she reached out her hand to hold onto him and he wasn't there.
That was more frightening than any nightmare.
She shivered and realized she had to get to bed if she wanted to even
make it the next morning.
She hesitated. Mulder hadn't called yet and he usually did, after things
like this.
The phone sat still and the clock ticked louder at her, admonishing her
for staying up, and she glanced once last time to the window, then
climbed into her bed.
Sleep wasn't far behind and it slid into bed with her and cuddled up
around her.
~~~~
Mulder paced outside the apartment, his mind whirling along at the top
speed it always whirled along at.
He was torn.
The night was so dark and she'd been having the nightmares lately, he
could definitely tell, and he wanted to go see her . . .
But he didn't know his place anymore.
It wasn't right for him to suddenly walk in and see her, it wasn't right
for him to assume that he had that still.
She had said she wouldn't follow him down. She'd been there with him and
back and there again, but this time, he had nothing to pull himself back
up with and so she would wait at the top.
Wait to heave him out of his pitiful depressions and conspiracies and
fear.
Things weren't working out. He had thought everything would come to some
glorious conclusion, after her cancer was gone, but nothing had fallen
into place.
In fact, all the puzzle pieces he thought he'd put together were not
even pieces of the real puzzle.
It was all quite confusing, and all quite crazy, and all quite *moronic*
he saw. Finally. He understood completely why she was staying out of it.
He wished he could stay out of it.
But it seemed forces had decided his fate long ago. He couldn't get out
of it even if he died.
A car's backfire made him jump, startled, backing away into the recess
of the apartment doorway.
It was left slightly open, as if Scully had known he would need her and
was allowing him to come in, at any time.
He slipped into her apartment building and dodged up the stairs, eyes on
the lookout for the security guard.
Silence was keeping watch in her hall and he crept along until he got to
her door.
He wasn't all that surprised to find it unlocked. He did have a key
anyway, but it seemed she knew he wouldn't have used it. This was a sort
of invitation.
He opened the door to darkness again and thought immediately of a
similiar time, hearing Scully come into her darkened apartment and the
sound of her shoes clicking along the floor.
It was odd how small things came back to him as he walked into her
bedroom, knowing exactly where every piece of furniture was from just
that one time he had been there.
The way the window looked out onto a faint light, the way the phone and
answering maching seemed to be old friends. The smell of the last dying
of the day, the aroma of her home mixing with dinner and shampoo and
detergent.
He liked watching her sleeping, the tiny rustle of breath that seemed to
barely keep her alive, and the shrouds of something deeper settling over
her.
In the dark, her face was young and once more the girl that had walked
confidently into his office with the long red brown hair and long bland
skirt.
He saw they had started again. The nightmares. Almost exact replicas of
what he'd heard in the regression therapy.
It made his skin crawl as if ants were taking up residence in his cells.
He sat down next to her bed and simply listend to her moans, her little
gasps of breath, the way she seemed to be whimpering and fighting it off
at the same time.
He was torn.
For her sake, he didn't want to believe they'd come again, that it had
happened.
Yet for his own sanity, he wanted to believe.
And then came the moment.
Her hand, shooting out across the bed, flailing, grasping, reaching for
someone who usually wasn't there.
This time he was.
He snagged her hand and held tightly, this time not disgusted with the
whole thing, this time willing to beleive for one single second, that
she was going through hell and calling his name.
He held on, she held on, and together they rode out the waves of fear
and hurt and anger and confusion until all that was left was their
hands, locked and sweaty and trembling.
Her eyes opened.
He kind of gasped, kind of howled.
Ragged breathing made it hard to hear but he caught her words. "Mulder."
"I know. I know. I'm here."
It was nonsense words that meant nothing, but to her, they were
cataclysmic, revolutionary.
She curled around his hand and kissed it.
His heart was torn.
But he kissed her back, on the forehead.
Her eyes closed and suddenly, there were right there together, holding
to a promise of friendship and faith.
She was not afraid of nightmares.
She could handle the nightamres.
end
adios
RM