Date: Fri, 22 May 1998 23:07:23 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe
intended.
Summary: Some things just get to be tiring.
Catagory: MSR, SPOILER:::::::US5::::::::PRE-The End::::::::::
Heat
=====
"I cannot take the heat
I guess I'm letting go
I'm tired of stitching up my dreams with
This thread of hope."
--Amy Grant, The Feeling I Had
=====
Dana watched the clock until the second hand made a complete trip around
the face, realizing that she had sat there for five full minutes simply
watching the time pass by.
She looked irritatingly at the phone and tapped her finger on the desk.
It still did not ring.
She had called Mulder on his cell phone while he was out in the field,
checking on a file's validity, and he had asked if he could call her
back.
He said at six, when she usually left, he'd call.
It was seven: she could kill the man.
She let out a frustrated growl at herself for *waiting* around for him,
then gathered her things and left.
~~~~
As she turned off the main cross road and onto the little lane that
boasted many apartment complexes, including her own, she half hoped
Mulder would be waiting for her.
She still was hoping that maybe she had missed his car and he was inside
when she unlocked the door.
She was searching eagerly for a message light on her answering machine
when she did not see any huge Mulder on her couch as she walked in.
As she played the only message and heard her mother's voice, she
wondered if he had gotten in an accident, if something had happened to
him.
And then she stopped.
He wasn't going to call.
He probably had forgotten, even.
Her mouth soured and she clenched her fists, completely sick of his
nonchalant behavior and indifferent attitude.
She had thought that after her cancer he would be more . . . More.
Just more. Pay more attention to her, listen to her opinion more . ..
Of course, that hadn't happened.
Of course.
This was Mulder.
~~~~
"Oh crap, Scully, I'm sorry. I fell asleep."
She wanted to glare at him and make him get on his knees and offer a
thousand apologies, but of course, she let it slide and simply shrugged
off his pleading.
"Whatever, Mulder. Let's just get this case started."
The office seemed to shrink that day and she knew he had realized he had
made a huge mistake somewhere last night and that she hadn't at all
gotten over it.
Oh well, he'd give her some room the next few days.
~~~~
She had thought their partnership was strong.
Stronger than pettiness, stronger than doubt, stronger than fear.
It wasn't.
She was falling away from him and didn't know if it was his fault or
hers.
Had it started with that night when he said he'd call and didn't?
Or had it been that very first case when he had tried to freak her out
by telling her horrible stories and making her think he was nuts?
Maybe it had been a slow thing . . . a kind of molasses of spinning,
where she hadn't really done any one thing, and neither had he.
But all the same, she was too tired of trying to get him to be
considerate for once in his life.
She didn't have the energy to keep it going anymore.
~~~~
"Scully?"
"Yeah, Mulder?"
"Jeez. Never mind." he said, making a face at her sighing answer.
"Mulder, just tell me."
"No. Forget it. You're obviously not interested."
"Mulder! Just say it."
"If the X-Files are wasting your time, Scully, then-"
"Dang it Mulder, just shut up and leave me alone."
He scowled and shoved his chair away from the desk, angrily bringing
with him the file and his coat. "Fine. I'm gone."
She huffed as he walked out and slammed her desk drawers shut, rummaged
loudly and abnoxiously through her briefcase, and made in general as
much noise as she could.
She was fuming.
And yet, something in her was breaking.
~~~~
This time when she argued her point on their case, she sounded
condescending, snobbish.
"Ghosts, Mulder? Uh-hunh. Right. Now, tell me again what makes this
worth my time?"
He hated the look of utter bitterness in her eyes, but he didn't know
how to change it. He wasn't sure what was wrong with them, but it was
big.
And it wasn't going away.
~~~~
She poured the last of the tea into her glass and ran some water in the
jar. Walking over to Mulder, she set the cup on the coffee table and sat
down heavily, wishing the night could just be over.
"Scully, come on. Stop sulking and finish this."
"Mulder...."
He sighed and leaned back wearily in the chair. He let out a frustrated
and smothered scream into the throw pillow and looked at her.
"Scully, just go with me on this one. Do you have to always try to come
up with something better? This is what happened and you know it!"
"Mulder, I'm just trying to be rational."
"Difficult is what you're being."
"Mulder, look, let's just finish this tomorrow."
"It won't change overnight, Scully. The man will still have called on
his dead sister, whom you yourself saw, to kill those women."
"Mulder. As I said before, it was dark and I had just been whacked on
the head, thanks to *someone* not backing me up-"
He winced and threw the pillow at her. "Shut up! Aghh! Do you have to
keep dragging that up? I was attacked by a huge Doberman!"
"Mulder, it was a puppy, and it was a mutt."
"I was attacked."
"Sure. Fine. Whatever."
"Arrrgggghhh.....Don't start that again."
She glared at him. "Go home, Mulder. We'll deal with this tomorrow."
"It'll be exactly the same."
"Go home."
~~~~
At work he had arrived late and rushed into their office to try to do
that report when he got a call from Skinner.
After that meeting, he was livid.
He burst into their basement office with his face red and his eyes ready
to bulge out: he was more angry than she had ever seen him before.
For the first time, she was afraid of him.
He started the morning by screaming.
"Why the hell would you go and do that? Huh? Why sneak it?"
"What are you-"
"Don't do that to me. You should have told me last night you were going
to turn in that . . . that load of *crap* to Skinner so that I wouldn't
look like a fool when I got here this morning."
She gaped at him lamely. "I didn't know he would-"
"I really appreciate your *partnership* attitude Scully, it's about as
wonderful as your friendliness these days."
"Oh, that's low Mulder. I didn't know he'd call you on it. I wanted to
get it over with. We weren't going to come to a mutual agreement on it.
We haven't agreed on anything since . . . since . . . I don't know
when."
"You're right. I don't know what made you change Scully, but I want the
old Scully back."
She stood there, stunned, as if he had physically slapped her with his
hand.
She gathered her strength clamped down hard inside her cheek with her
teeth.
She would not cry in front of him.
"Well, the old Scully had cancer and a lack of interest in life. The new
Scully wants to live. And this isn't cutting my definition of being
alive."
He glared at her and she could see beneath that the hurt in his eyes.
She shook her head. "It's too hard to do anymore Mulder."
He felt his breakfast rise as she walked out the door.
~~~~
She felt as if some things in them had definitely changed, but she
couldn't really pinpoint what exactly. It was almost like the time in
sixth grade when she and her best guy friend started to like each other
and there was all this strained tension between them because of it.
Except this was Mulder and there was no way she *liked* him like that.
No way.
~~~~
He couldn't understand what was going wrong.
One day she was doing okay, not really needing for him to pay attention
to her and the next, she was practically whining.
He had never heard her whine or complain about their job. She just did
it.
He wondered what had changed in her.
Or maybe something had changed in him?
~~~~
The plane was doing its best impression of a boat ride in stormy waters
and passing a little too admirably for her stomach's taste.
She clutched the seat's arms and made her best effort not to whimper as
the plane bucked decisively under her, making her feel a little too much
like a rodeo clown on a mad bronco.
Mulder said nothing, did nothing, offered no distractions as he usually
did when he could see she was freaking out.
Of course, she never admitted to this, but he knew, and she pretended he
didn't and he did too, and things were okay. This night, however, he was
tired and not really feeling like trying to play 'good' partners again
when he had been trying to pull it off all week in Oregon.
By the end of their case, 'good' had degraded into just trying to stay
dignified in the face of oncoming traffic, mainly her headlight-like
eyes that froze him deer-stupid to the road.
The plane did a roll again and she just knew the pilots were up there
laughing and having a wonderful time.
It pitched wildly again, sending nasuea sliding up her throat like a sea
snake.
Scully lost it and grabbed his arm, tightly, as if she wanted to pop one
of his veins to his skin to tap blood.
He resented it at first, after all his 'trying' all week, but he
couldn't help but take her hand in his and kiss her knuckles
reassuringly.
He was amused when she visibly relaxed and hunched further down into her
seat so that she was closer to him.
This time though, his actions did not go unseen.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Mulder felt an odd protectiveness come over him, wash through his veins
and empty the bad blood between them to fill him with honey sweet
warmth.
He palmed her head and gently moved it so she was resting on his
shoulder, content and safe in a little nest made by his arm and chest.
When the plane hit the air pockets again she closed her eyes tightly and
he rubbed his thumb over her ear in a comforting gesture.
Somehow, nothing was changing right now.
~~~~
They were dragging themselves off the plane when it happened.
A little boy barreled right into her and knocked her even more off
balance, combining the force of his hurtling body with the seasickness
of a bumpy plane ride to cause her to tip mercilessly to the floor.
Mulder managed to catch her and pull her up and hold her steady.
She frowned and checked her pockets, but her money and everything was
intact.
Mulder led her out of the airport and to his car, which they had left
overnight in the parking lot.
She seemed oddly dazed by the run-in and he had to call her name three
times before she responded.
"Uh, Scully, I was just wondering if you'd like me to drop you off
tonight or do me the honor of gracing me with your presence." he said,
laying it on thick to cause her to forget the boy.
She merely nodded. "Your apartment's okay." she murmured.
~~~~
He'd been attempting to be deep in conversation with her when he
realized she was not at all paying attention, so he shut up and began
flipping channels, waiting for her to come back to his time zone.
When it registered that he wasn't talking anymore she let out a little
noise and turned to see him, apology on her face.
She was opening her mouth to tell him some excuse when he placed a
finger to her lips and shook his head. "Just tell me what's bothering
you."
She lowered her head and licked her bottom lip in the habit she had
whenever she had something sad and important to say, something he
wouldn't like to hear, yet nontheless, loved to because he loved
watching her tongue dart out, and glide, glide, glide, across her
pinkish skin.
"When I caught myself automatically checking my pockets to see if
something had been planted or stolen, Mulder . . . I realized how
pathetic I've become, how utterly wretched it is to not trust anyone."
He sighed and closed his eyes, blocking out her words.
Already. Already she was getting too jaded to continue. Already she was
jaded enough to know that she wasn't innocent anymore and want to quit
because of it.
"Scully...."
"Mulder, I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I know it's nothing to
do with you; it's me. I've had this nagging at the back of my head that
I've been forever changed, forever calloused, and I can't do anything
about it."
"You're not like that Scully."
"Yes, Mulder, I am. I am because when that boy did that, I did not feel
the same shamefulness I used to feel. That because of this other
person's crimes against humanity, I share in the shame of it. I didn't
feel that. I simply reacted. I did not care. That's what scares me most,
Mulder. That I won't care so much that I'll end up like CancerMan or his
friends."
He bit down hard on his lip and made it bleed, then sucked it clean
before shaking his head and pressing his hand to hers.
"If you can still feel this, if you can still know that you're losing
touch, then you're not gone, Scully. You're not."
"I wish I could feel, Mulder. I want to look at a person doing wrong and
know with cartainty that it is wrong, and then feel ashamed that this
person is of my species, or my country. I want to feel it, Mulder."
"I don't think you can get the shame back. You're above that. You're
greater than shame . . ."
She shook her head and he watched her agonized eyes slide across his
face.
"Mulder . . . I just want something to feel."
He knew, then, what it was about. Why so many things had shaken her over
the past few weeks. The sting of Emily's death had numbed her to
oblivion, and although no pain felt good for awhile, it was unhealthy
and dangerous, and she knew it.
Looking at her tragic face, peering into her soul by seeing her eyes, he
knew he wanted to be the one to make her feel again.
His hands met her face and brushed the cheeks, wiping away the invisible
tears she wanted to be crying and making her skin soft again.
She closed her eyes and it seemed to be an invitation to him.
She was asking him to make her feel life again.
Asking him to give her back her innocence, her emotions, her life.
He bent forward and gave his life for hers.
~~~~
end
adios
RocketMan
(1/1) RocketMan
Okay, I'm really getting into this posting thing. For those who didn't
like the first-sorry here's another.
I'll Be Around (1/1)
Date: Wed, 04 Jun 1997 23:03:59 +0000
RocketMan <lbontger@wmcstations>
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belong to horrible man that is slowly killing us
all. I'll Be Around is a song by Michael W. Smith
Rating: Not sure. Hmmm.......PG13?
Content Warning: Character dies. (No Kidding....he doesn't come back,
either.)
Spoilers: FOURTH SEASON!!!! post Harold Spueller pre-Demons,
Gethsemane.
Author's Notes: This isn't fluff. Beware of dog. He's got terrible fangs
and his bark is as bad as his bite.
============
"For we cannot do anything against the truth, but only for the truth."
2 Cor. 13:8
============
I'll Be Around
I know sometimes it's hard for you
To keep your feet upon the path that you've
Chosen
It's not for you to walk alone
Together we can take this road where it's
Going - Hang on.
Fox Mulder was going to scream. The pent-up rage formed by constantly
rejected concern was eating an acidic hole through his pysche and he was
about to smash his hand into the wall with frustration. He wanted to
feel useful to her, as if in some way his strength could make up what
he'd taken from her, but all she did was push him away, cut him off. He
needed to help her, in any way he could, and she was rejecting that
offer, rejecting him. She had sent him off to look for the truth while
she suffered, had made him promise that the Truth would always come
first in his life. Well, he didn't want that anymore. She came first and
he wasn't going to supplant his search for her life. Didn't she see he
had to be there? That she couldn't make it all alone?
Maybe she didn't because he had never told her. He had the wonderfully
anal tendency to shut things off when it hurt too much. Someone dies;
Mulder shuts the door. Someone cries; Mulder turns off the faucet.
Someone talks about feelings; Mulder closes a window. It was about time
he explained to her that she didn't have to do this alone, that she
couldn't do this alone. He knew all about loneliness and its deep dark
valleys. Why should she suffer through that when she had an experienced
guide to help her?
He picked up the phone before the fluttering in his chest could take
back control and dialed her home phone number. She picked up on the
fourth ring.
"Scully." came her calm voice, a little low.
What was he doing? She was in a good mood, why mess with it?
<Because you both need to talk.>
"Hey, it's me." he sighed.
"Mulder." Her voice was warm and genuinely surprised. "Are you
alright?"
Was that the only reason he called her anymore?
"I'm . . . doing as good as can be expected." he said honestly. "What
about you?" She was immensely thrown off balance by his sudden
personality change.
"I'm . . . I'm okay. I feel good. A little tired maybe."
He felt elated at her confession of weakness. Well, not weakness, just
something other than I'm fine.
"Oh, that's pretty good, Scully. I won't talk to long then."
"Oh, don't let it stop you," she said.
He recognized the irony. "Hasn't ever seemed to stop before, huh?"
She sighed. "Mulder, in this conversation, let's refrain from
crucifying ourselves, huh?" she said bitingly.
He was a little taken aback, a little frightened by her sudden fresh
honesty, but he'd initiated it and dealt it out, so he'd better be ready
to eat it.
"Okay, deal." he said, with a small smile.
"So why'd you call, Mulder?"
"Well, to really say some things that I think I need to say, that I
think you need to hear."
She sighed. "Mulder, I don't want to get into this tonight."
"No, no, no. I'm not trying to fight with you or anything. I just have
to get this off my mind."
<What am I, his emotional dump?>
"Mulder....."
"So I can sleep tonight, Scully? Please?"
"Mulder, I will not be guilted into talking with you."
"Okay. Can you be bribed?" he said, only halfway joking.
"Depends on the bribe, Mulder." she said archly.
"I can think of some pretty tempting offers, but they all involve
whipped cream and t-"
"Mulder!" she said, cutting off his filthy thought. "How about we never
have to do this again after tonight?"
He sighed. "Scully......I can't do-"
"I know, Mulder. Just start talking, alright?"
"I'll make it up to you, I promise." he said. "Okay, what I need to say
is this......"
A long pause.
"Forgotten already, Mulder?"
"No!" he said. "Just trying to think before I speak, you know it cuts
down on the stupid things you say."
"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed. You always jump in headfirst with
everything. Don't change on me now."
"....Scully, I know you're afraid."
"Well, how's that for jumping right in?" she said softly.
"I'm afraid Scully, and I don't know what kind of comfort I can give
you. You won't let me - even though I can see it. I want you to know I'm
here, with your heart, not just your brain. I'm here, walking right
along beside you down this path, even if you don't want me too, I am
anyway. I've walked through despair and fear so many times, Scully, I'm
a native. So let me guide you, please. I see you making the same turns I
have and still do and I know they only lead to dead ends . . . and it
hurts Scully. It physically hurts."
"Mulder, I don't intend to hurt you. But I have to do some things
alone, you know. I can't have my mother lead me by my hand my whole
life. I need to learn things on my own, make my own mistakes."
"I understand that, Scully. All I'm asking is that you don't totally
ignore me. I have free advice, ya know, open twenty-four hours a day.
I'd like to hold your hand and pull you right out of it, but I can't.
I'm frustrated and I need to do something to help. I want to do
something to help."
"But, Mulder-"
"Please, Scully. I've had your strength for so long. Give me a chance
to give that gift back. I don't have much to give, but I'll give all
I've got."
"Mulder, I know you want to help, and I'd like that. I think it's
great. It's just . . . I don't want you hovering, or making all my
decisions for me, or taking over my life. I have so little left, Mulder.
I need control over what I do have left."
"How about........How about, Scully, I just say that I'll be around,
okay?"
"What do you mean?" <Don't leave me Mulder!>
"When you're ready to talk, to come to me, to let me be the strength
you need, I'll be around."
"Around?" It sounded so vague.
"I may be on some wild quest for the truth or on a mad hunt for aliens,
or even in a fight with you, but I'll still be around. The moment you
feel it starting to close in on you, I'll be there. For now, though,
while your own strength can support you, I'll be around, waiting for
you."
She liked that. It sounded as if she could still call the shots in her
own life, and yet have Mulder's reassuring presence. "You'll be around,"
she said softly. "I like that, Mulder. Thank....thank you for this.
You've given me a great gift, Mulder."
"Okay.....well.......great........Just promise to call me when you do
need me, and I'll see you around."
"Promise. Yeah, I'll see you around." she said.
Neither could say good-bye, so they simply hung-up.
I'll walk this road with you
Wherever it may wind
And I'll be around
Come what may
So don't give up and don't give in
We will stand together till the end
And I'll be around.
<BIG SMILE> you like???
It's short, and more how I thought a touchy-feely conversation between
them would go. She's not backing down from her firm insistance that she
is FINE.
Okay, so feedback, remember?
Adios,
RocketMan==>
Hey!
It's the
One-Sipper!All my thanx to Nessie, for coming up with that game. Very mug.
And thanx to Melissa, for actually liking the idea, and the challenge.
I'm looking forward to yours, Meliss!
Title:
One-Sipper (1/1)Author: RocketMan
Oh forget it. Consider it disclaimed.
O'Riley's
11:54 p.m.
"Miss? Miss? You're gonna have to leave now. It's clsoing time." the
bartender said, looking at her strangely.
"Yeah, I know. I'm waiting for my brother. He's driving and he went to
the bathroom a minute ago." Special Agent Dana Scully said.
The man shook his head. "No, ma'am, no one's in there. I just checked
to make sure no one was barfing in my toilets."
Scully frowned. "No. He's in there, you must not have checked very
well."
The bartender knew how to do his job and he didn't need some woman with
a high society air about her telling him that he was wrong. "Ma'am, you
can go check if you like, but no one's there."
Scully did just that and found an empty bathroom. And also found that
her brother's car was gone and she had no way of getting home. Bill had
all the money and the car and she was just a little drunk, so that her
mind was kind of spinning and she couldn't think too clearly and why was
the room shaking just a little?
"Miss? You wanna use the phone to call your brother? Sometimes people
forget things."
"People? You can forget people?" she said, feeling her tongue slide
awkwardly over the roof of her mouth. No, she wasn't calling Bill. That
would be weakness. He had probably left her on purpose, to remind her
how much she needed her family and not Mulder, and she couldn't call him
now, like a lost little girl, sounding stupid because she was a little
bit tipsy....
Mulder. Mulder could come get her. He never slept anyway. And if he even
tried joking about it come Monday, she would ram his ugly tie down his
throat.
Mulder's apartment
12:00 a.m.
Through the light filtering in from the street lamps Mulder's form
looked alien in his bed, a rare change of habit for him. Because his
nightmares had grown to include one of his couch eating him alive, he
had been forced to relocate for the duration; the fear when he woke up
on his couch after such a dream was enough to outwiegh even the best
comfort derived from the green leather couch.
His bedroom consisted of dirty clothes, washed clothes, old case files
that had led to nowhere, posters similiar to the ones in his office and
newspaper clippings of sightings across the globe. He also had hung a
grey alien head he had gotten as a Christmas present from Frohike on his
bedpost. It was propped right next to the flavorless chewing gum that
had managed to devolop life of its own on the bedpost.
His fish, dead about three months, gave the room an odd smell, one
matching the odor in the living room near his other fish tank.
The phone rang shrilly and Mulder jumped in his bed, disoriented for a
moment, and grabbed it before it could throb in his eardrum again.
"Uhh...Mulder."
"It's me. Were you asleep?"
"Depends on how you define sleep."
Scully frowned over the phoneline and Mulder could almost feel it.
"Oh...Um, I was wondering if you could pick me up?" she said, and
wondered if her words had come out the right way.
"Pick up line, or pick up from a place?"
"Place...Uh...O'Riley's"
"Are you drunk!?" he asked increduously.
"NO!" She groaned and he smiled.
"Oh yeah you are!"
"Mulder...just come pick me up."
"Scully, what happened to designated drivers?"
"That's now become you, Mulder, so get over here."
"Yes, ma'am."
She hung up and he laughed in the silence of his room, seeing for the
first time that his fish had died.
The fish's name was Nora, and it was bright green and one of his
favorites. He frowned and tapped the top. Maybe she was just sleeping?
Nope, definitely dead. He'd have to get a replacement.
O'Riley's
12:02 a.m.
"Here you go, miss, just drink this and I'm sure you'll feel better."
came the bartender's voice, gentle now that he could see her so weak and
helpless. She sipped the scalding coffee in gratitude and smiled at him,
glad of the wake-up to her system. The bartender then placed a bowl of
sunflower seeds in front of her. "Eat a few of these. They're supposed
to cure hangovers, or at least not make them so bad."
Scully laughed out loud and thought of all the times she'd seen Mulder
with those seeds. Had he been hung over the entire time?
She ate a few and then rushed to the bathroom, despite the bartender
pleading for her not to throw up in his clean toilets. She did anyway
and made an enemy for life.
She went back to the bar and laid her head down on the smooth wood,
wiped clean by the almost obssessive-compulsive bartender. She closed
her eyes while waiting for Mulder and felt her mind begin to drift. Too
much alcohol always made her sleepy...so sleepy....
Then the door banged open and light poured through, intense bright
white light that pried at her eyelids. The bartender screamed something
about not getting his freshly polished floor dirty and she couldn't hear
past that. Then a woman came to her, dressed Amishly, in a long black,
homespun dress, the collar looking as if it were choking her, and her
feet not even showing. Dana tried to move, to get away because for some
reason the woman was bad and the light was bad, but her fuzzy brain
couldn't process quickly enough. She realized the woman was Marita,
Mulder's contact at the ....the....whatever the hell that place was
called, and that she was pulling her to the light.
She was under the light and trapped in it and she looked up and saw
metal, glowing and shiny and seamless, with lights and windows
interspersed between the birghtness and she realized that it was a
U.F.O. and holy.....
There was a little man, smaller than her, and grey with the same odd
head shape that the people in the leper colony'd had and she was talking
with him, asking him to let her go back and get some more things before
she left, namely Mulder because he would never believe this, never....
Mulder jerked her awake and she screamed. He immediatley pulled her
into his arms, unthinkingly, only knowing that she was frightened and
had screamed for Pete's sake.... and he was holding her, hugging her to
his chest to dispel the bad images and she was about to cry in his arms
because it felt so good to be safe for once....
<Oh.....I'm definitely drunk.>
"Thanks for coming Mulder," she said, her voice a bit muffled. She
pulled back and he gave her a small smile.
"No problem. Nothing I wouldn't do for a beautiful woman." he said and
she had the funny feeling he was drop dead serious.
"So, hot date leave you?"
She slapped him.
He looked at her in utter surprise and said, "What was that for?"
She was drunk, oh she definitely knew it know. "You complimented me one
instant and ... and...and teased me the next. Why should you care why
I'm here?"
Yeah, Mulder thought, she's definitely drunk.
"Maybe because I'm picking you up, that's why I care. I do care about
you Scully." He switches unconsciously to puppy dog face and she melts,
even through the haze of alcohol.
"Sorry......I just.....I don't feel too good." she said and wanted to
fall back in his arms.
"Scully, why don't I just take you back to my place and you can explain
if you want on the way there, okay?"
She nodded, too incredibly sleepy to offer much in the way of protest.
They made it back to his apartment, since it was close to O'Riley's
anyway and he carried her in to his living room, gently depositing her
on the couch. She was fighting sleep and he wasn't helping.
So she told him what had happened, how Bill had left her and she kind
of went off on him for awhile before getting back to her story and when
she finished she was all confused again. It took way too much energy to
speak she realized, but she had to make sure she wasn't inconvienancing
him.
"Mulder, I know you sleep on the couch, so I don't want to impose. I'll
just sit in the chair until I can drive again-"
"Nope, unh-uh. You sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch and I'll
drive you to your house tomorrow morning and we can get your stuff."
She was confused again and he could see it, so he picked her up and
settled her in his bed.
"I didn't realize you had a bedroom, Mulder."she mumbled.
He gave her a quirky look and tucked her in.
Skinner's house
12:23 a.m.
A.D. Skinner felt bad for spying on his agents, but sometimes they did
things he needed to know about and check up on. And Fox Mulder was a
prime example of someone who needed checking up on. So when he heard the
phone ring and then later, Mulder come in with Scully, he had listened
intently, thinking he was finally, horribly, going to catch Mr. and Mrs.
Spooky in the act.
He let out a huge grin of relief when Mulder really did go back to the
couch, leaving Scully alone. Skinner went back to bed and slept soundly.
Mulder's apartment
1:35 a.m.
Mulder screamed and jerked awake only to realize he wasn't awake, his
couch was slowly sucking hm down, eating him alive and he couldn't get
away, he couldn't escape it.
No. No. It was only a dream. His couch was there and being friendly
and.....was that a slight ripple in the green leather? A bit of laughter
at his foolishness? Here he was back on the couch, where it could stick
to him once again, trap him and suck him into its hungry belly.....
Mulder dashed for his bedroom and the comfort of Scully.
She was sitting up, staring at him wild-eyed, as if he was nuts. He
sank to his knees beside her and explained his dream, his limbs still
quaking with the realness it had been to him.
Scully thought he looked like a little boy telling momma all about the
monsters living under his bed. Scully took pity on him and scooted over
to allow him in the bed, his warmth eagerly accepted.
"Mulder," she said, her thinking still screwed by the alcohol. "Maybe
your couch is possessed by demons or something and that's why you're
dreaming about the couch eating you alive."
Mulder looked at her for a moment and then felt her forehead. She had a
fever alright. He sighed and realized it was only the drunkeness
talking. But he snuggled closer to her and wrapped his arms around her
waist.
"Thanks, Scully." he whispered.
She was already asleep again.
Wasn't that great? And totally out of character?
Here's the qualifications in order of appearance. (I'm stretching some
things a bit to fit. Please consider the grey alien as a person smaller
than Scully.=-)
1. Scully gets drunk
2.We see Mulder asleep.
3. We see Mulder's bedroom.
4. We see Mulder's fish. (Nora!)
5. Scully eats sunflower seeds.
6. Scully laughs out loud. (Actually you may have to switch 5&6)
7. Uniblonder wears something completely conservative.
8. Scully sees a U.F.O.
9. Scully speaks to adult shorter than her. (Alien was an adult.)
10. Scully screams.
11. Mulder hugs Scully in a public place.
12. Mulder comments on Scully's appearance.
13. Scully slaps Mulder.
14. Mulder shows good taste in women. (He got Scully didn't he?)
15. Skinner smiles.
16. Scully had paranormal theory.
17. Mulder and Scully sleep together. (Totally platonic, I know, but all
my XF instincts were screaming at me already for writing humor, and I
couldn't ignore them when it came to that. Sorry.)
Adios
RocketMan
So who's doing Two-Sipper?
--Chapter One
Date: Fri, 17 Jul 1998 21:13:15 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is
intended.
Summary: Journeys unfold and lives are risked as Scully discovers her
own personal truth.
SPOILER: FTF, the movie, some spoilers, not really directly involved,
just after it
WARNING: Eventual MSR, character separation, questionable
characterization
Notes: This will be a long one, hopefully. Scully may be different to
you, because I have her acting on her own, without Mulder, so you might
not like her at first. I do promise to keep it within the realm though.
Read on.
Thanks to Ivy for finding the poem. Dedication also goes to Deb, who
encourages me to find my own truths, and to Nell, Gary, Mike, Georgia,
Nicole, and Shane Smith in Independence, Belize, for showing me the
power of love.
~~~~~
Opening
~~~~~
"I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand."
--"Making A Fist" Naomi Shihab Nye
~~~~~
~~~~~
In the End
~~~~~
She walks in and sits down on my couch without even looking to the shock
and the horror and the relief on my face.
She walked back into my life without so much as an explanation and all I
can do is wish she would stand up and look at me.
I come to sit next to her immediately, hearing nothing but my own
heartbeat loudly thumping in my ears, and knowing only that she is back.
She's back.
I grab her roughly and shake her.
I yell.
"Why the hell did you leave me?"
~~~~~
In the Beginning
~~~~~
"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. . .And God saw
that it was good."
I glanced up at Scully, raising my eyebrows at her spontaneous sermon.
She looked thoughtful as she turned to me. "When did it stop being
good?"
I grinned a bit. Too good to pass up.
"Probably when the woman tricked all of creation into rebellion agaisnt
God by eating a stupid piece of fruit."
She glared at me and shook her head, as if dismissing me. I knew she
wanted to talk about something, but I guess I was too scared to really
let her start.
Something was eating her up inside, but I didn't know how to stop it, or
how to let her talk about it.
I just didn't want anything more to go wrong. After Antarctica and
deadly bees, I just wanted some normalcy, some silly X-File that
demanded our attention, but turned out to be as harmless as those
vampires in the trailer park with their false teeth and scared nature.
She stood and walked to the file cabinet, psuhing back in a file I had
asked her to read over for me. I supposed she was getting depressed over
the cruelty of it, and wanted to talk about the 'plight of humanity' or
something.
"I think there are still some good things, Scully."
She looked to me gratefully, her eyes turned on again, as if there was a
light behind them that dimmed or brightened based on her emotions.
"I have trouble finding them sometimes," she replied.
"The work we do here is good, Scully. It saves lives, saves families,
saves happiness and love and grace."
She sat down in my chair and I sank to the top of my desk, wishing I
knew where to take this converstaion, wishing I knew what she needed to
hear from me.
"It is good. But it's never enough."
What was she saying? That a hole had opened in her life? That she needed
more than just this?
"How's it not enough, Scully?"
She must have sensed the rising panic in me because she put her hand out
and touched my arm, looking righ into me with her far away eyes.
"It's good, Mulder. But sometimes I have to do things that aren't good.
That go against me and who I think I am. And after those times, I'm not
good."
"But Scully, the things you do are always for a good reason though. I
know that."
I wanted to help her, I wanted to show her she meant too much in the
grand scheme of things to let go now. She made a difference for the
good.
"Maybe. I just feel wrong."
"Right now?"
She nodded and crossed her arms. "I can feel something is about to
happen, Mulder."
I knew then that something was wrong, really wrong for her to say
something so intangible as that and mean it. Scully was not a feeling
kind of person, more of a concrete evidence type.
"What do you mean?"
"Something bad. And it's big and going to change everything."
I shuddered.
Big.
Change.
I hated to even think about what could happen next, to think that maybe
she would be snatched from me by Death's sarcastic grin of triumph.
I stood and went to my chair, sat down on my haunches and looked
straight into her eyes with all the strength and courage I could find in
me.
"I won't let it hurt you, Scully. Whatever happens, you're good for me
and I'm not letting soemthing bad get you."
She sort of smiled and took my hand and the surreal nature of it all
caught up to me and I laughed.
"Nothing'll happen. Let's go get some dinner and I'll drive you home."
She stood and seemed to be broken of the spell. I followed her out of
the office, locking it behind me.
~~~~~
Descending the steps and coming around the corner, I noticed the faint
smell of Something Wrong.
I can always tell when Something's Wrong.
It smells like fear.
My own. Scully's. Other people's.
I ran to the office, only to stop dead on as I saw it.
The door was wide open, smashed in with a strong, determined force. The
lock was wasted, totally blown, but I could see only calm inside.
I went in and surveyed the naturally ruffled appearance of our office,
the new photos tacked to new walls, the two desks with their sparse
smattering of supplies, the slide projector, and the one file cabinet
that housed recovered files we had scrounged up after the fire.
"Scully?"
My voice echoed in the silence of the office and I went to the file
cabinet, checking the precious ones we had left.
They were full. Or as full as they were supposed to be.
I walked to my desk and rifled through it for a moment, finding only
some sunflower seeds missing, but I thought maybe I took those home last
night.
I went to Scully's desk and wondered if I would even know if something
was missing.
There was a single white sheet of paper balanced against her coffee cup.
<Ransom note>
It was the first thought in my head.
I picked up a pencil and used the eraser to open it.
Written words in her hand spiraled at me and and I slumped to her desk
chair, shaking.
<Mulder,
Sorry for the door. Couldn't wait. Took yesterday's file.
I have to make things good again. Don't come.
Scully>
I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't imagine her ever doing this to me, ever doing this period.
She left.
Left. Didn't want me to follow her. Busted down the door so she'd get
away faster without even having to say good-bye face to face.
I stood.
Walked numbly to my desk.
Sat down heavily.
Opened a file.
Tried to forget.
<Don't come.>
~~~~~
At night, I couldn't breathe right.
I grabbed the blanket and pushed it down, then over my head, then to the
floor, and I couldn't seem to get it right. It was like I was
concentrating too hard on the act of breathing that I coulnd't do it
right.
I had to take my mind of the breath, the in and out of it, the conscious
fact that I still lived while I didn't know if Scully did, and pretend
not to notice.
Pretend she hadn't left.
Pretend that breathing didn't matter.
I could hear buzzes in my ears and the sound of blood rushing in my
veins like trains in the dead of night.
I wanted to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop remembering her words
written on a square sheet of ripped paper.
Don't come.
Like bullets into me. Like snake teeth ripping through my skin. Like
hearing your one in five billion say : Don't come.
Don't come.
I wanted to say: To hell with you Scully!
I wanted to say: I'm in hell without you Scully.
I wanted to say: Where in hell are you Scully?
But I laid on my couch and thought up good excuses to tell Skinner when
I had to explain her sudden leave of absence.
She was me, I was her.
She had split, I was left saving her butt so that she didn't get fired.
It was strange, it was new, it was awful.
I'd been given a taste of my own medicine, and I swore to never force
her to choke it down again.
Waiting is hell.
Waiting is agony.
<Don't come> screams at me from my walls, leaks from my ears, tumbles
through my apartment like John Denver's crazy ball of war.*
I closed my eyes, screamed at my breathing, then held my breath until I
could feel hot whiteness shatter over me.
I blacked out.
~~~~~
end of chapter one
adios
In Him
RM
*The reference to John Denver's ball of war is a sort of poem/story he
says on his album "Poems, Prayers, and Promises" that talks about a box
all tightly bound and shut up that is labeled War. Someone opens the box
and this ball comes bouncing all about, hitting woman and children and
more, this deadly little ball called war. It's really rather a good
story.
Title: Opening--Chapter Two
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully (even in this odd form) belong to CC,
1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended.
see chapter one for other
~~~~~
Opening
~~~~~
"Opening for you
a violet
to discover the perfume
of a secret woman
this life
rejoices in the follower
exalts the man
that comes with me."
--"Opening" Laura Bontrager
~~~~~
I couldn't sleep all night.
Once I passed out, I woke again to find my darkness had come and left me
gifts at my door.
I couldn't stop thinking about her. About the words, "Don't come."
About her flight. Why did she run from me? What have I done to her?
If I couldn't run after her, maybe I could help her anyway.
I rose from the couch, slipped down the side of the wall until my toe
stubbed on the computer desk. The light blinked as I powered it up, and
the faint whir of the fan started, sounding loud and angry in the night.
I called up my files, the copies of what we had now, the one of many
copies we had now. I wasn't taking the chance of having everything
destroyed all over again.
I skimmed the list, clicked on the one labeled correctly and tried to
recall its details as it came up for me.
A woman.
Twenty men murdered.
She couldn't be proven guilty of the crime even with her confession. The
medical examiner couldn't even decide what the cause of death had been,
only that the heart had just given out.
Devout Catholics. . . maybe that held the interest.
I read over the report again, found the mental pictures I'd fashioned
when reading it, thought again about the importance of such a case. The
parents of the womann accused had called the FBI to help them out,
convinced as they were that their daughter could never have killed
twenty men.
Being strange and a little less pressing than other cases, it had gotten
booted directly to our basement office.
Still the basement after all.
What had she seen in this case that made her want it, made her question
good and evil?
Made her question us?
I shook my head, grabbed for some paper and jammed it in the printer.
As the sheets drifted cleanly from the laser jet printer, the expensive,
government paid printer, I remembered her face as she read this case, as
I told her it probably didn't merit our time.
Horror.
Complete and utter horror.
I'd forgotten that until just now. I remembered the way she turned to
me, her eyes dark and liquidy, almost like she would cry.
I remembered it almost frightened me.
And then I had laughed it off, told her it didn't matter.
It mattered to her; I could see that now. Something about the woman,
something about this case, mattered very much to her.
I scooped up the papers and turned off everything.
On my couch again, coffee burning one hand and the case burning the
other, I read over the details, the little things I had simply scanned
before.
All twenty men were known to be abusive, cheating, lying SOB's
basically. All the families of the twenty men hadn't wanted to press
charges, but the state of Mississippi had. All twenty men had been
arrested before for beating their wives or children, or some dog
somewhere.
All twenty men were lowlifes.
I shuddered.
It was wrong for them to be killed by the hand of man, but their deaths
weren't mourned.
One of the men had been this woman's husband.
I reread her stats again, letting her name drip from my mind, her
existence permeate my every inch.
Becca Jackson, married for two years to Bob Jackson, a drunkard and
adulterer. She was twenty, almost twenty-one, and appreciated simple
things like family and making dinner.
Her husband was a Baptist, and had converted her from her previous
Catholicism. Half the other victims were Catholic, half Protestant.
No real method to the madness.
What had Scully seen here that I just didn't?
I wanted to understand this, I wanted to understand her.
I wanted to know her mind, her thoughts, her reasons and motives and
deep desires. I needed to know. I needed to believe that she needed me
as much as I needed her.
She never said she did.
I said I did. I know I do. She never said . . . never said anything.
If I figured this out, if I could come to her with understanding, she'll
see, she'll know how much . . .
How much she does need me . . .
~~~~~
In the End . . . Scully
~~~~~
I walk into his apartment and sit down, wondering if he knows, if he
could possible understand.
I hope he understands. I hope he's got this all figured out.
Because I don't. I have no idea why I felt like I had to do this.
Mulder knows me better than anyone. Knows me inside and out.
Sometimes.
And I pray he understands this, because it's scaring me to death.
Come on Mulder, give me a good reason, explain it all to me.
I need you.
He sits next to me, quiet, unmoving.
She suddenly grabs me, shakes as hard as he can.
"Why the hell did you leave me, Scully?"
I can't look at him.
I cry hot hot tears.
~~~~~
In the Beginning. . . Scully
~~~~~
Mississippi was humid, hot and sticky and full of breeding mosquitos and
full of simply breeding.
Humans, dogs, whatever.
I guess it was all there was to do in the winter and now, it was coming
to fruit in the summer.
Made for some moody woman, and some irritated men.
And whiny kids.
I walked through the little town, walked right past the ice cream store,
bursting with little hands wanting more, walked past the gas station
checker players with their cheap ball caps spelling out "Eat at Joe's"
in once white faded paint.
Everything was the same as it had always been. Small Southern towns
don't change much. I remembered that from the Navy base we'd been sent
to once, in Mississippi by the Gulf. A small little town that didn't
exactly thrive, simply meandered through life on an economy based on the
Navy business.
I watched three little boys chase a dog through the Super Wal-Mart
parking lot, their sticks beating the ground and never the animal, only
scaring him a bit, or maybe having fun. I could lay heavy bets that this
happened regularly in the summer, when the kids were out and bored and
waiting for something to do.
I came full circle back to the rental car, slid inside, and sort of laid
my head against the steering wheel, praying I guess.
I wasn't sure why the hell I had just done all that.
Broken into our office, stolen one of the files, run like crazy away
from him.
I was afraid. I knew that.
Of what? Of the things happening between us, the small changes that
seemed ready to explode in my face?
No, I wasn't afraid of that. Mulder and I are great together, too great
together to let anything like romance or even lust get in our way. So
maybe we have something, maybe we don't.
It wouldn't change much of anything.
But something else was changing, shaping up into something I can't even
begin to understand.
I was changing. I didn't want that at all.
If I changed . . . what did Mulder have anymore? What did *I* have
aymore?
Memories of how things were, of what we could have been together. Not
together like a couple, but together like a good team.
Whatever had happened to Becca Jackson had been happening to me.
She'd killed to stop it.
She had changed just as I was now changing.
How did she stop it? Did she even try?
Would I kill to stop it?
I shuddered and started the car, the directions to her house clutched in
one hand and my own written words clutched in my mind.
<Don't come.>
I had meant it. It wasn't safe for him. Becca obviously didn't like
abusive men.
Mulder could sometimes be like that.
But it wasn't safe for me either.
I could sometimes be like that.
~~~~~
"Look. Ms. Scully-"
"Call me Dana."
She sighed. "Dana. I confessed. I must have done it. There's no other
explanation. I feel bad that I caused this. But I'm not going to jail."
"I'm not here to try to send you to jail," I tried to speak softly,
reassuringly.
"Then what are you doing?"
I didn't know myself.
"Just trying to find the truth."
"Here's the truth. I married Robert because I was pregnant. He hit me.
The baby died and I hated him. That's the short story, okay? The long
story is, I tried to love him because this was my one shot. I'm a firm
believer in the Bible, Ms. Scully, and I was going to make this work.
Robert didn't want this to work."
"He didn't want your marriage to work?"
"No. He wanted out as soon as I miscarried. I told him no way. I told
him why. I think it was the only reason he slept with that woman."
"Why's that?"
Becca blinked and looked at me strangely, her eyes so brown and dark,
and her hair reddish brown with the sun.
She almost reminded me of Mulder. Mysterious at times, above the world
in thinking and attitude.
"Why's that, Becca? Why do you think he'd cheat on you?"
"So I'd have a reasonable excuse for a divorce."
"Divorce?"
"In the Bible, it says let no man tear assunder what God has rendered
one, unless there is intances of adultery."
"So he cheated on you simply to let you get out of marriage?"
Becca blushed and hid her eyes. "I'd like to think that, hunh?"
I softened and stopped pressing it. She needed to make herself feel
better about him.
"How'd he die, Becca?"
"The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective."
"What's that?"
"James 5:16. I learned it as a little girl. I believed it. I believe it
now."
"Are you telling me you prayed for this?" I said, my eyebrows lifting
high and in much speculation.
She prayed for the man to die?
"I didn't pray for him to die, Ms. Scully."
"Then what?"
"I prayed that God would take care of me, that God would keep me safe."
"Did you feel threatened?"
"Yes. Robert wasn't exactly a saint. Like I said, our baby died because
of his abuse."
"Did you let it happen, Becca?"
I thought I'd hit it right then. That was where her guilt was coming
from. She felt she had somehow allowed the baby to die, therefore
getting her out of a nasty situation.
"Look. I was a moody kid. I was eighteen and thought I was in love with
Robert, I was in love with him actually. I didn't know he was like that.
The first time he hit me, I thought it was an accident. The next time I
thought he was joking around. The third and fourth and fifth times I
cried for what I had gotten myself into. I asked God to save me. I asked
Him and He heard me. So maybe it is my fault my baby's dead, and maybe
it is my fault that Robert's dead. All I know, Ms. Scully, is that my
baby is a lot better off, and I'm a lot better off."
I stared at her, watching her lips quiver and her whole face alight with
her pain. She was trying very hard to cope with this, to reconcile
herself to the possibility that her child was dead because of her
prayer.
"Do you think prayer is like that, Becca? Do you think God is like
that?"
She looked at me and her eyes were wide, dark, swirling in her own
private hell.
"I think God's powerful. I think people forget that. I think most people
have skimmed over the gory details of God."
"What are the gory details of God?"
"He killed a man for trying to save the Ark of the Covenant because he
touched it. He struck down a couple for lying to the church. He burned a
city that held women and children who didn't know any better. He turned
Lot's wife to a pillar of salt because she looked back. Ms. Scully,
God's big; I'm not. I'm not looking back, understand?"
I breathed out, slowly, thinking.
She seemed convinced of her faith, of her God. Was that my God too?
Was I changing into a woman who believed like that? Not simply about
God, but about the way things were?
I had one shot. She had one shot.
"Ms. Scully?"
I looked to her, surprised at how timid she now seemed. I remembered she
was only twenty, only a child really.
"Yeah?" I said, taking a better look at her.
"The other men that died-they were all bad, you know? I prayed that the
bad men would all go away, and they did. I prayed that I would be saved
from the situation I was in, and I was. But people died. A little baby
died. Do you think I should stop praying?"
I didn't know what to say to her. She was afraid of herself, of her God,
and I didn't know how to reassure her.
I didn't even know why I was there.
Only that I was finding my faith again, little by little, and she had
hers solid and strong.
And that she had changed, as had I.
"I don't know, Becca. I don't think you should stop praying. But maybe
you should refigure what your God is. Maybe He's really not like that."
"But if this is happening, He must be."
I shook my head. "I don't know what to tell you. If these men died
because God wanted them to, then there's nothing we can say about it,
you know? God takes people all the time."
Becca nodded and stood up, her long limbs gracefully unfolding.
Opening like a flower.
I didn't know what I was doing this for, I didn't know why I had come
all this way, but something in me was answered, something in me had
changed.
For the good.
Maybe God had used me to help this woman come to terms with everything.
Maybe God had used this woman to help me come to terms with everything.
"Becca?"
She stopped at the door, her hand on it ready to let me out.
"Yeah?"
"Did you ever feel completely hopeless?"
Why had I asked that?
"Hopeless? Yes. I still do. There were only two things in my life and
that was my family and my God. And I don't have one, and I'm not sure
about the other."
I gave her a sad smile, letting her see that I was satisfied, that I
would not be coming back to hurt her more.
As I walked down the front lawn, I heard the door open again.
"Oh, wait! Dana!"
I turned, surprised she had used my name, and saw her there, in the
doorway.
"Look. I have to tell you this. Things are rough. A lot of times, life's
awful. But there are things and there are people that make it worth it,
make it good. My parents made it worth it to me for a long time. Then
Robert and the baby. I don't have that anymore. I barely even have my
parents. I guess what I'm trying to say is . . . don't forget the people
that make this worth it."
I stood in the green grass, summer licking at my body with heat and
cascading down with sweat, and I couldn't see past her face, couldn't
look beyond that moment.
>From now on, her life would be ruined. She might build it back, but
she'd always be watching herself, always wondering if the strange power
of prayer would kill something else. She'd had it bad with Robert, but
if she had just gotten out, gotten safe, she'd still have some things.
Her God, her baby, her life.
I slowly got back in my car, buckled my seat belt, and looked at myself
in the rearview mirror.
My eyes were afraid, my body tired, my hair dry and guilty.
At that moment I wanted to go home. I wanted to go back to my office and
put the file back and fix the broken lock and then, then, go to Mulder.
Where it was good.
~~~~~
end chapter two
adios
In Him
RM
Title: Opening--Chapter Three
Author: RM >[email protected]<
Disclaimer and other in chapter one
~~~~~
Opening
~~~~~
"we sat stiffly
although the barren moon
climbed her wrinkled fingers
through our wind-tangled hair
and breath was death . . ."
--"stargazing" Laura Bontrager
~~~~~
I sat in the car for an hour wishing I could leave and wishing I hadn't
come, but never found the energy to pick up my hand and turn the keys
and get out.
Things crushed me from the inside out.
The feel of family and the feel of death hovered near by and all I knew
was that I didn't have that sense of security in life that I wanted.
I had beaten death so many times that death was numb to me . . . or I
was numb to it.
And it wasn't death that frightened me anymore.
It was the not living and yet breathing and driving to work and seeing
Mulder and solving cases and still . . . still not living.
It's what I had been all along. All along.
Nothing was good. Work was work. Sleeping was sleeping. Love was
nothing.
Family was nothing. Family was even bad, a hurtful reminder that I would
never be the one to hold a grandchild for my mother, never be the one to
ever feel a part of a family again. My family was half dead.
I was half dead.
But something had told me that I needed to find out where the good in me
had gone to. Something had pushed me to talk to this woman, to
understand why her prayer, why her desperate plea to God, had ended so
badly.
Ended without goodness anymore.
I had heard as a child a simple memory verse over and over, one that
stuck because it seemed so right and so loving a thing.
All things work for the good of those that love Him.
Back then, it seemed true.
Two years ago, three, it was hell no.
It almost never did. That was in the Bible, and I thought it should be
right, it should be true because the Bible was always true. Right then,
I thought it never would be good.
Until I realized the words didn't say that everything would be good.
It said that in the *end*, things would be good.
In the end.
When I died.
It seemed to be almost a trick. A sneaky God thing to do.
I'd missed all the gory details of God.
It wasn't even that anymore. I'd missed alot of things. I'd missed how
it feels to wake in the morning and know that I was allowed to have
breath; missed the knowledge that life was over too fast and I still had
mine; missed the immortality felt by a child surrounded with love.
I had goodness in my life.
I had just taken it at all for granted so much that I couldn't see it
anymore.
Things always had to be black and white for me. Either good or evil,
right or wrong, heads or tails.
Mysteries are things I can't accept because they don't fall into any
catagory.
God was a mystery, love was a mystery, Mulder was a mystery.
Mulder had hit me hard when he classified us as unclassifiable, not
easily referenced. I wanted something easily referenced with us, I
wanted something I could look at and say without a doubt, that it was
good.
In the beginning, God saw things were good.
In the beginning, so did I.
Maybe Mulder did too.
I thought in that car, and watched parents wheel their kids to the
sidewalk and run behind them as they tottered on training-wheel-free
bikes, and saw dogs get a healthy paced walk around the block, and some
mothers call out that it was too dark to play anymore, and watched as
lights flickered from television sets.
I watched life play out like Shakespeare's stage analogy and waited for
that something in me to kick in and make me move.
All I could do was look at it all and think quite surprisingly--
I don't want this.
I don't want to call out to three little boys of mine that they'd better
come inside Right Now, and I didn't want to set off down the block in
Walkman and Reeboks jogging an overgrown puppy, and I didn't want a
husband pulling into the driveway after a long day at the office with a
scowl of misery on his face.
I wanted my unclassifiable, not easily referenced, sometimes good,
sometimes bad, never defined relationship with a man who thought aliens
were out to get us, who had treked across a frozen wasteland to give me
an injection from a man he didn't trust - all because he *couldn't do it
without me.*
I wanted that.
I laughed.
Smiled.
Wished I had figured this out in my nice warm apartment with strains of
Bach to keep me company and my telephone right there when I had this
urge to call Mulder and laugh.
I started the car and turned off the street and onto the highway and
thought only about getting home.
Getting back to excitement and living and mutants and aliens and
informers and most of all, Mulder.
Mulder.
No matter what we were or would be or had.
Mulder.
And I looked at it all, from beginning to end, and I saw that it was
good.
~~~~~
In the End . . . Mulder
~~~~~
She laughs at me.
Takes my hands and squeezes them so hard that I think she'll actually
break some bones.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why. I don't even know how to explain it, or
even what I figured out that made me come back."
She's got to be nuts.
"Scully, are you sick?"
I raise my hand to her forehead and check for a fever as she smiles
broadly.
This isn't my Scully at all.
Although, the way she's beaming at me, the way she's looking me over, I
could get to like this Scully real quick.
Real quick.
"Mulder, I . . . well, I had to sort of think. But I didn't even know I
had to think, otherwise I probably would have stayed at home."
Is she rambling?
"But anyway, I went to talk to-"
"Yeah. About her husband's death? And the other nineteen?"
"Yeah, and she told me the whole thing, about her prayers and the power
and I sort of got on this tangent and I-"
"Scully."
"Hunh?"
"Breathe."
She seems puzzled for a moment, then gives me a grin.
"Yeah. I'm different Mulder. I don't know what happened, but what was in
that file . . . what it said about her and how it had happened. . . it
hurt. I don't know why, but it did. And I had to fix it."
"That's the doctor in you, Scully. When those urges come up, let me know
and I'll try and break a finger or something."
Her grins have got to be lighting up the world by now.
She's not even too mad that I joked around instead of really listening.
"So I left. I talked to her. I found something that made me put a lot of
this behind me."
"A lot of what behind you?"
What was she talking about? What did a woman's prayer have anything to
do with what we'd been through in the last few months?
"Us."
"Oh. So I'm behind you now?"
Is she trying to tell me she's quitting again? Whatever happened to "If
I quit now, they win?"
Well, there's that same look as when she said it. That smug,
I'm-throwing-your-words-back-in-your-face-to-prove-a-point look.
"No. You could never be behind me. You know what I mean."
I shake my head. I truly have no clue. She's so way off this time, that
I don't even think *she* knows what she's talking about anymore.
"Just that we've been tested a lot, Mulder. Our trust and faith and love
has been screwed over by so many people and so many things, that I was .
. . insecure, I guess."
I raise my eyebrow. "Insecure? After everything we did, everything I did
and said to you, you still didn't know?"
I can't believe this. She's . . .she's nuts. She's so -
"Mulder. Not about you. About me."
"So what are you telling me, cause frankly, I am truly and completely
lost and I have no clue how to even start to make you understand what
you mean to me."
I gaze at her helplessly, the only words in my head are the ones
"insecure" and "love" and all I can think is that I should have kissed
her before that stupid bee. Or even after.
Even if she was gasping for breath and trying to relate to me her
symptoms.
She shakes her head.
"Just know this. I'm here. I'm not ever leaving. You're good for me."
I sag down to the cushions of my couch, closing my eyes and forgetting
everything for just one moment.
She said it. She said it back. It's almost better than hearing I love
you back.
Then my usual personality kicks in.
I wink at her. "I'm only good for *you*, Scully. I give everyone else
hell."
She smiles and shakes her head. "I think I'm going home, Mulder. I need
to get to bed."
"You are home," I say softly, maybe hoping she'll hear me and mostly
hoping she won't.
She turns back, eyes bright, lips parted as if she was about to say
something more.
"Yeah. I am. Thank you."
She leans forward and snags my mouth with her light light brush of lips.
She's somehow shown me so much of her this night, and here's even more.
Even more she gives me, even more she lets me take.
~~~~~
In the End . . . Scully
~~~~~
The world still hasn't come into focus.
It's me and Mulder and being home again.
I want to sleep, to let my body relax into the pleasure of darkness and
warm fingers, but it's still too new, too fresh and *good* to let go of
wakefulness.
His arms are tight around me, his face snug into my cheek, almost like
he wants to pull me inside of himself, he's so close.
My eyes are closed.
But I'm open to him. I have nothing hidden from him anymore. He knows my
love, he knows my fear, he knows that it's him I want.
My mother always said that some girls were late bloomers.
My flower has just opened, spread its petals and let him smell and touch
the goodness. The opening was hard, the growing was a struggle, and I
don't think I'm all the way fully stretched toward the sun, but I am
here.
I am here.
And he's right here with me.
No matter what happens, no matter how we travel, what road this takes
us, or where we end up, I have him.
All things are working for the good because I love Mulder.
It's not black and white and it hasn't been something we've shouted,
yelled, explained or even really said, but it's there and it's right and
it's ours.
It's here in all the little gory details, and in all the good.
Now why in hell did it take me so long to figure out?
~~~~~
end all
adios
In Him
RM
By RocketMan
=====
Notes: This is first person with hints of MSR--you know me, can't stand
for it to be platonic
=====
I thought he was mine. I mean no one else ever really wanted him. It's
not so much the sexual thing, or the Soul Mates, just that he isn't
mine.
And I'm not his.
Melissa Ephesian pretty much made that clear. Or Sarah or whatever her
name was. They are meant to be, or something crazy like that. But he
asked me if I had known would I change it.
Hell no.
And hell yeah.
I would have let myself be myself. Maybe then I would be seen as a
woman, a person with feelings. But I can't blame that on anyone but me.
But I thought he was mine.
I really did.
He touches me and talks to me inches in front of me. His eyes follow me,
his hand comes to my back, he even called my name out in his sleep once
or twice. I thought Mulder was mine and I was his.
Oh, I would love to be his. Just to have someone know me like that. To
have someone touch me like that. To have *him* know and touch me as his.
I see lovers touch and think it's not quite the same. It's the kind of
thing where they have a right to touch you, anywhere, because......well
they just do.
And I thought Mulder had that right. I thought I had that right.
Oh I don't exercise that right.
But it's comforting to have it.
But I don't have it.
Melissa does. And he cried over her and cradled her head even as she was
dead. Touching.
I wish.......
I need to stop this. It's pitiful and pathetic......and oh the truth.
I laugh to myself.
There's your truth Mulder. I'm pathetically in love with you.
No....just.....I just want to have that connection with you. I even have
that with my brothers.....
Are you mine?
I look at him, standng in that field, the field where we both died.
If I am always with him, then maybe he is mine. His soul and spirit. His
heart could be another's, Melissa's, but he, himself, is mine.
Mine.
I like that.
He looks up as I cross over to him.
He needs me.
He sighs and I slip the pictures from his hands and let him fall onto
me.
"She wasn't it..." he murmurs.
"Mulder...." I am trying to be against this notion of past lives. I am
really. But I would like to have a Soul Mate.
"She wasn't, Scully. I could tell. Maybe her regression was messed up by
her schizophrenia. And it fostered on me, when I regressed."
Was he saying he wasn't Melissa's?
"No, she wasn't it."
Was he saying it for his sanity?
"No, because......because someone else is it."
Oh....
Was he still mine though?
He touches my waist and sighs deeply.
I stroke his forehead and I know, I know.
He is mine.
And I am his.
His hand brushes my back and the pictures fall from my hands. He is
touching me.....just touching. Unconsciously touching me in the spots
that make me relax because he knows it. And I know I am his.
"Scully....."
And his lips are touching my hair, brushing as his hand did along my
back. His lips are touching my forehead, then my eyelids and it stops.
It stops.
He knows who his Soul Mate is.......me.
He is mine......I am his.
"You're mine." he whispers, in eery cadence with the thoughts in my
head.
I only nod as he pulls away.
He's mine.
end.
good? Bien?
mal?
adios
RocketMan
Mine II
Date sent: Thu, 24 Jul 1997 15:30:34 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to the esteemd CC.
Stuff: It's not bad, mostly V.
Spoilers: The Field Where I Died
Mine II
Is she my soul mate? I don't want her to be.
She's dead - does that mean I have no other person left alive that knows
me inside and out?
I have Scully. She knows me inside and out. She is practically the
keeper of my soul. Had she not been here, I would have sold it to the
devil long ago.
But I feel like nothing is mine anymore. My life has been controlled and
directed by men with just the right strings to pull to make me move. My
heart has been crushed so many times, I don't even really have one. My
soul supposedly belongs partly to Melissa Ephesian.
I don't think that's right.
Why her? She hated me. She looked at me like I was killing her. And
whatever personality that emerged never really said anything nice,
except Lilly.....but she was a little kid.
Scully handled Lilly really well. Crouching down next to her and asking
the right questions to make her unafraid.
And I was no help. Scully knew that though and still said, at the end,
that she would do it all over again.
Would she?
Even this search is no longer mine.
My head snaps up when I finally notice her walking across the
field.....the field where we both died. She comes to comfort me, but I
feel like I should be comforting her.
She touches me.....I move to touch her, but she shifts so that I end up
brushing her thigh.
Oh......my........she's so soft.....like peach fuzz or flower petals.
I want to touch her again.
NO NO NO
Not allowed.
Oh heck, I don't really care anymore.
I reach down feeling that my lips are going to kiss her but she gives me
this look like she can't quite figure out what has happened.
I think I ask her if Melissa was my soul mate. And then maybe I ask her
if she believes in soul mates.
I'm not sure, because all I can do is stare at that mouth, slightly
puckered to show her irritation with the whole idea. Oh I want to take
those lips with my teeth and....
What?!
Sheesh, she looks like she's going to cry.
In one brief flickering instant I could see the pain all behind her
eyes. If I hadn't been looking directly at those sharp blues I wouldn't
have even seen it. But I did. Fear and pain and hurt. She hurt for me.
No.......she is hurting because she thinks I couldn't be her soul mate.
Even Scully wants a soul mate.
"You're mine," I whisper, pulling her into my arms.
She is stiff for a second, a look coming over her face that seems to
say, no, to scream - how did you know?
But she is. She's my soul mate. Scully is more me than I am. She is more
in tune with what I need than I could ever hope to be. And I would like
to think that I am that much of her too.
Her body seems to tell me that.
I think I just kissed her.
She's looking at me like I ought to be smacked, but then her face
softens and for an instant I see Scully the woman.
She's melting me.
She takes my hand, and I brush my fingers along the back of her palm,
feeling her shiver beside me as we move away from the field.
She's mine.......soul mate forever......she's mine.
Away from the field....the field where, now, I can honestly say I died.
I died to myself and lived for Scully. She is me......
She is mine.
I kiss her again, before we make it to the FBI van, wanting to feel this
before I forget, before I can delusion myself into thinking it's not
what it is.
I put my hand on her thigh as the van moves away. She lets me.
She's mine.
Oh yeah.
End.
Adios
RocketMan
Mine III
Date sent: Sat, 16 Aug 1997 01:05:29 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: The characters and all material borrowed are property of CC
and 1013. I am intending no copyright infringement.
FWID spoilers.
Dedication: To Joseph McConnell, who reminded me that the Mine stories
were something a little different than my regular and nicelt told me to
finish them. ;-)
Mine III
I walk with him away from it all.
Yet I know he left something there.
Maybe a piece of his soul, as dramatic as it sounds, but maybe something
else.
I think he left a piece of his belief on that field. The field where we
died.
I feel dead. He looks about reaedy to die, if only because of the sorrow
on his face. And I can't tell why..........no, actually I can't
understand why.
He just said I was his soul mate.
Me.
He's mine.
So why the sadness, why the terrible feeling that I'll never have the
whole Mulder?
He is looking at me strangely.
I smile a fake, sorrowful smile that I am always so good at giving him
when he needs it the least. How foolish we have all become.
"Scully.....If you died........and you're my soul mate, really and
truly, then what chance is there for us? Evidently, you die in every
past life I've recovered." he says.
*That's it?*
You have got to be kidding me.
"Mulder! You don't believe that do you? Some of it doesn't fit,
chronologically. It's made up fantasies. You wanted to believe, so you
did."
I stare at him.
He shakes his head and walks away from me. I can hear him
thinking....maybe it's not her......
"Mulder.....wait..."
He turns and waits; I'm surprised.
But then it comes. "Scully......just let me be alone for awhile. To
absorb this all, okay?"
No! I want to shout. You're mine, you're supposed to want to be with me.
Isn't that what a soul mate is? My other half? Why are you leaving me?
"Scully?"
I shake my head. "Yeah. Okay. See you later."
I turn away from him, still halfway on that field, hating it. I don't
want him to leave me. I have so much I can't make sense of, things he
could explain away in such unfrightening terms that it would all seem
fresh and clear. But he wants to be alone.
We're seperate people after all, right? Two very distinct individuals,
with no compatibality for each other.
So how did we end up soul mates?
No......not possible. We couldn't really be. It just didn't work. We
didn't fit that way. Two pieces of a puzzle fit perfectly on the right
side, but once you swtich them, put them in different places, then they
don't fit at all.
They don't fit.
Maybe he isn't mine.
Maybe he's Melissa's.
I want him to be mine.
Be mine.
I sound like a freaking valentine. Whatever. I'm a professional, no
nonsense woman, I don't need this.
I don't need him.
I don't.
"Scully?"
Oh, God, I do. I do.
"Yeah?" I swivel around to see his beautiful face grinning sheepishly at
me.
"Sorry."
He never says he's sorry. "Okay...." I'm at a loss.
"I think I screwed that up back there." he says.
I smile.
He's at a loss. I never truly smile.
Is he dazzled just a bit? I hope so.
"It's okay."
He is mine, I can see it on his face.
"Come here." he says.
I walk to him; we are still on the cursed, blessed field.
"I'm going to kiss you." he whispers.
"There goes the element of surprise," I say, as his lips descend on
mine.
It's long.....hot....oh my gosh.....Fox William Mulder is kissing
me......
He's my own soul, fixed in time, with my own fears coursing through.
Fate?
Maybe.
But he's mine.
And I won't share him. Or hurt him. Or scorn him. I can't.
"I think I love you," he says.
Even his love is mine.
"I know I love you," I say.
My love is his.
I am in weeds up to my knees and kissing him again in front of half of
the Hostage Rescue Team, and probably Skinner too.
"Let's get off this field." he says.
Have I died on this field in this life?
Because I must have gone straight to heaven.
He's mine.
end.
adios
RocketMan