RocketMan IV

Dancing

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

13 May 1998 22:35:52

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, XF belong to CC, 1013, adn Fox. No fringe

intended. The opening line I got from a commercial. Caelyn is the name

made by Rohan and Angela for their baby girl. Isn't it a beautiful name?

Summary: Alternate Reality. MSR. PG

======

"Cascading stars on the slumbering hills

They are dancing as far as the sea . . .

Take me with you on this journey. . .

Find the answers, ask the questions

Find the roots of an ancient tree

Take me dancing, take me singing

I'll ride on till the moon meets the sea.

--Loreena McKennitt, "Night Ride Acorss the Caucasus"

========

"Daddy, Daddy. Watch me."

The little girl stood poised on her tip toes, waiting for her father to

look up and notice her, to smile his faint smile and show her she was

alive, she was important.

The father did not.

"Caelyn, Daddy doesn't feel good right now."

The little girl turned in her light blue dancing outfit and her tap

shoes skittered across the hard wood floor. Her dark brown moody eyes

stared back under light lashes and under a curly head of red tinted

brown hair.

Caelyn's lips puckered and she nodded, putting a finger to her lips. "We

gotta be very quiet for Daddy, right?" she said in a mock whisper.

Scully smiled at her. "Right. And when Daddy's headache goes away, you

can show him your tap."

Her smile lit up her long, oval face and she traipsed off, her shoes

making loud noises and scuffing the floors.

Scully turned back to the man sitting slumped in the chair, not at all

feeling sorry for his sorry looking state.

"Mulder," she started.

"Scully. Please, not now." he murmured.

She frowned and checked over her shoulder to make sure Caelyn was in her

room, playing. Then she hunched over him and began running her hands

along his body, searching for wounds or broken bones, or something that

would tell her why he was being so dismissive.

He pushed away her hands when they connected to his ribs, wincing and

hissing as if she were a wild animal come to kill him.

"Mulder. Your ribs could be broken...."

"They're not though."

"How do you know?"

"I've had broken ribs before. I'd be in a whole lot more pain."

She raised an eyebrow at his attempt at humor and pulled his jacket from

his shoulders and then off of him.

She hissed in her own breath when the bloody gash on his side glared out

at her. The hands holding hers away teetered and she swooped in, placing

her hands just above the long wound, hovering there as if she had

special healing powers.

Caelyn chose that moment to come into the living room.

Mulder panicked. Blood wasn't something a three year old should see.

"Caelyn! Go back to your room. Right now!"

"But, Daddy-"

"Caelyn, do it right now." Mulder's voice was threateningly low and

laced with an undercurrent of pain that made him sound cruel.

Caelyn flew back to her room.

Scully glared at him. "What the hell are you trying to do to her

Mulder?"

She fled after the little girl, leaving Mulder bewildered and wondering

what in the world had just happened.

****

When Scully came back he was barely conscious and he had to bite the

inside of his cheek to pay attention to her words.

He found it too hard though and simply interrupted her.

"Is she okay?"

Scully's eyes turned soft at his honestly needing question.

"No, Mulder. She's three years old and she doesn't understand why her

Daddy yelled at her for no reason. To Caelyn, that's equivilant to not

loving her Mulder."

His face blanched and he winced as she dressed the gash. "But I do love

her. She knows that."

Scully sighed. "Mulder, I know you love her and I know you love me. So I

can take it. She doesn't have that to fall back on. She only knows that

she has to somehow please you Mulder and that no matter how hard she

tries, she can't."

Mulder physically reacted to her words, stiffening in his chair and then

rising out of her care to step forward.

She hauled him back. "Mulder, don't you dare move another inch until I'm

through. And listen to me this time, Mulder."

"This time? What?"

She suddenly grew frustrated with him. "Is this how it was with you and

your father, Mulder? Did you wish he would love you and did he wish you

would stop getting in his way?"

He bowed his head and she could see him shaking. She felt awful for

saying it.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I-"

"No. No. I need to hear that. I didn't even realize.....I swore I

wouldn't be my father, Scully. I swore it. And I am."

"No, Mulder, no, you're not. I was overreacting. She'll be okay. She

knows more than I do that you love her and I was the one that-"

His lips came to hers and cancelled her words. He brushed his hands

across her stomach. "I'm not screwing this up, Scully. She's my only

little girl."

She smiled and let him get up slowly, his face determined and his eyes

just a bit frightened.

Caelyn's door was closed and he stepped up to it lightly, chiding

himself for fearing his three year old. But she had the fierce

stubborness of her mother and his own indignation.

"Cae?"

The little girl looked up with a kind of held back hope, and he realized

she was afraid to hope he was there to love her.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Caelyn. I was wrong to do that. Will you

forgive me?"

She nodded but stayed firmly in her bed, her teddy bear clutched in one

hand.

"Caelyn, you know how I sometimes yell at Mommy but I don't mean it and

Mommy always comes and kisses me because she knows I don't mean it?"

"Yes."

"Well, I didn't mean it again. I do some pretty stupid things sometimes.

I was hurt, Caelyn, and I didn't want you to see that. That was all."

Caelyn nodded and he had the feeling he was losing her completely.

"Cae, I love you, baby. I do so much that sometimes I wish I could keep

you away from anything that could ever hurt you. And I know that

sometimes, I'm the one that hurts you and I'm sorry."

Her face turned intensely frightened and he felt panic rise in him

again.

"No, Daddy. No. You don't hurt me. You don't." she said, rushing from

the bed to his lap.

He put his arms around her and smiled, smelling the scent of crayons and

Scully's mothering mixed in her. Her little body wiggled around and he

let go.

"Caelyn, what did you want me to see? A dance?"

She suddenly grew embarrassed and her cheeks flamed. He smiled as she

reminded him of Scully.

"Tap, Daddy."

"Oh, tap. Right. Can you show me?"

She nodded and ran to her tape player. The fast music started and she

began an awkward rendition of whatever she had been working on in class.

When it was over he stood up and applauded and whistled and swept her up

in a big hug.

"Wow, Caelyn. You must be the best dancer in the class, huh?"

She giggled and smiled. "Yup."

He could see Scully doing the same thing at this age. Neither of them

had much modesty when it came to accomplishments.

"So, I bet you get your wonderful talents from your mother, right?"

She shook her head and wiggled out of his arms. "Nope, Mommy said I must

have gotten it from you because she's horrible."

Mulder's face lit into a grin. "You wanna go find out just how horrible

your momma is?"

Her eyes grew mischevious and she bounded up into his arms.

"How will we do that?"

"Well, I'll sneak up behind her and when I've got her, you play the

music, okay Caelyn?"

She seemed delighted to be in on something so secretive with her father

after all the times they had kept things from her. She nodded and they

went into the living room.

Scully was standing, looking out the window and after a glance to

Caelyn, Mulder went up to her and circled his arms around her.

She had just relaxed into him when the radio came blaring out at them

and Caelyn's giggle became lost in the music.

Mulder began swaying and moving her around a bit.

"What are you doing Mulder?"

"Dance Scully. Caelyn showed me how, come on."

"Mulder...."

"Dance Mommy!" Caelyn yelled, clapping her hands.

"See, Scully you have to..."he whispered into her ear.

Caelyn wiggled in between them, standing on his feet and clinging to his

belt loops and they moved awkwardly around the floor.

Mulder saw Scully smiling and Caelyn laughing again and he knew he had

fixed things. Everything was all right again.

Scully looked down at Caelyn then up at him.

"All I asked was that you let her know you loved her. You didn't have to

gang up on me, Mulder."

Her words were soft but her eyes were smiling and he bent forward and

kissed her, managing not to crush Caelyn.

He held her against him and simply moved back and forth, dancing only as

a vague concept. His feet shuffled and his eyes closed and he realized

he was dancing with everything he ever thought valuable right in his

arms.

"Mmm....." he murmured into her ear. "I love it when my women can

dance."

He heard Caelyn's giggle and felt Scully's eyes on him and relaxed in

the feel of his family.

"Daddy. Daddy, watch me." Caelyn spoke up.

And this time, he opened his eyes and watched.

****

end

adios

RM

Discombobulate

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is

intended.

~~~~

~~~~

discombobulate--to bewilder

~~~~

There's a pause as he tries to form something new to say.

I wait, lingering on my last words, tasting them in my mouth, the faint

bitterness at being shoved down and pushed away for so long.

He wants to say something to refute my claims, but his head just shakes

back and forth.

What I said is the truth and now, he can't deny it.

Maybe he thought it would never, never happen. Depsite all the symptoms. .

.

"You're wrong!"

His words explode like fireballs through the air, his eyes wide with his

own surprise.

I shake my head and sit back down in the chair, watching him stare down at

me, the look of shock etched into his face like carving to stone.

"Scully."

He sounds indignant.

As if this was something I could have prevented.

He *gave* me this.....

I shake my head again, teeth grinding as he moves away from the desk and

closer to me.

"But I. . .saw the. . .it's not possible. It was assured that you. . .you.

. ."

He seems to almost want to argue with me.

"There's nothing to deny, Mulder. I have proof. The doctor confirmed it."

He looks crushed, defeated, utterly fallen. I want to slap him.

I thought he'd take it better than this. I'm going to need him to be

strong for me.

"But, Scully. . .you're. . . .you can't have. . . "

"Mulder, stop lying to yourself. It's happened. It's here. I can't do

anything about it . . ."

"No, no. You can. . .you're going to be okay, right, Scully?"

I sigh.

He's slumped in on himself, propped up only by a meager spinal cord, his

head resting in his hands which are propped on his knees.

"I thought you couldn't. . . .couldn't. . . .it's why I did it in the

first place. . .like that."

I bite my lip, raising an eyebrow.

"It wasn't solely your decision Mulder. As far as I know, this is *my*

body."

He blushes, then shakes his head again, licking his lips as he manages to

glance up at me softly.

I stand and come closer to him, brushing a stray piece of hair from his

hooded eyes.

"I can't believe this. . ."

"Mulder. . .stop making this into something so awful. . ."

He pulls away from my touch. "This is all my fault Scully. It's all my

fault. . .I shouldn't have-"

"Mulder. Stop. This isn't your fault. This isn't something you blame on

anyone."

He blinks. My words are acidic and cold, alternately burning and freezing.

"I'm. . . I'm confused on how to feel about this."

I laugh at him gently, pushing yet another strand of hair from his eyes.

"No kidding. I am too. I didn't think it could happen."

"I should have known not to trust Them. . . I should have known."

I shake my head and take his hands in mine, pulling them from his face.

"If you had known, would you have done it differently?"

He glances up to me, sees the seriousness of this question, and how much

hinges on his answer.

"No. Nothing."

I smile, then stroke my thumbs across his palms.

"Well, then. Get ready to be a Daddy, Agent Mulder."

~~~~

end

adios

RM

ha ha, you thought she had cancer again didn't you?

Date: Sun, 08 Feb 1998 14:40:18 +0000

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No

infringement is intended. No offense is meant to be taken.

Rating: PG-13, SA

Spoilers for US5.

"A shark dies if it stops swimming, Mr. Mulder. Don't stop swimming."

--Deep Throat, "E.B.E."

"And I'm barely balancing as it is, and I don't want to drown in my

dreams." --"Furious Rose" Lisa Loeb

I thought I wanted this.

I told Dad I wanted this and I refused his words and his rage to do

this. I am an FBI agent and I wanted it.

I did.

But I don't want it anymore. Not at all. It's cost me too much. I have

nothing.....nothing.....I am an FBI agent.

How was I supposed to know it would cost me my children, my family. . .

my love?

I lost Emily because of it.

If I had a normal job, they would have let me adopt her. I would have

her right now, in my arms and in my heart.

I didn't even get to know her.

My own baby.

My . . . own . . .

But I guess I would never have had her if I hadn't been in the FBI . . .

the X-Files. She came to me because of them. And I have Mulder because

of them.

Big comfort there. Mulder is . . . well, I once called him a nice jerk.

And I guess that hasn't changed much, it's just not so nice a way to

describe someone you love.

I guess this is what a mid-life crisis is. I think though, that this is

a call from reality telling me that, contrary to popular opinion, I'm

*not* immortal and that this cancer was my warning.

I need to just stop thinking so much, that's all. If I stop thinking, I

don't have to worry about the winnowing away of my life.

I call Mulder.

"Yeah?"

So eloquent.

"Mulder? It's me."

"Hey you. Want to come over and watch a movie with me?" he says, and I

can hear him rising from the couch and walking around.

"Sure. I'll be over in a few minutes." I say and then fall silent.

"Something bothering you, Scully?"

"Ah . . . not really, Mulder. I just wanted to know if your foot was

feeling any better." He had gotten his ankle twisted when running after

a suspect the other night. I have been kind of taking care of him,

making sure he took the anti-flammatory drugs he was given.

"Oh yeah. Much. Having you rewrap it every night is wonderful, too."

Such a tease.

"It isn't bothering you anymore?"

"Sometimes at night . . . you wanna come over and make it feel better?"

The man never gives up . . .

"I'll let you go, Mulder. Want me to bring popcorn?"

"Yeah, I seem to be lacking in the food section . . "

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye. And hurry, my foot is throbbing...."

"So funny." I hang up and sigh.

At least he can make me laugh at myself. Not ever out loud, no, that

would be admitting something I don't think I'm ready to admit to him.

But always inside, where it counts, Mulder can make me feel better about

myself, about what I've chosen.

Sad that my confidence, my strength, comes from Mulder when I've tried

all my life to rely only on myself. He has thrown me a lifeline again

tonight, pulled me from the inky waters of uncertainty to the lifeboat

he managed to build.

I can't keep relying on Mulder to pull me in, especially since some day,

this will all end.

I don't like thinking about it, but some day he's not going to be there

when I walk into the office. Or I'm going to get cancer again and it'll

do it's job. And then it will be over. Everything we've built, all the

life rafts we've so agonizingly lavished over, will be gone, blown to

bits in the winds of the storm that sucks everyone under.

It's sucking me under. Not Death, but a kind of death where everything

seems to be unworthy of my time, unworthy to be in a day, to take up my

life when I have so little of it.

So - I have a life saver for the moment and I am not drowning any

longer.

How long will that last?

Until I leave Mulder's? Until the next case comes along to brutally

bring me to my knees?

Where does my strength come from? - because Mulder isn't going to be

able to keep me going my entire life.

I thought I wanted this life. I wanted this in the beginning, but my

dreams are drowning me . . . and I'm barely keeping afloat. I'm treading

water and it's so very tiring . . . so exhausting.

The phone rings.

"Yeah?"

"Eloquent today Scully."

We really need to get separate lives.....I'm starting to think like

him....

"Anyway, I called because I was wondering if you could bring some apples

too."

"Apples?"

"Yeah, I'm craving one right about now."

"I don't have any, Mulder."

"What? Scully, the health nut, doesn't have apples?"

"I have oranges."

"No....that's no good." He sighs and I hear his breath heavy on the

phone. "Oh well, never mind."

"Fine."

"Hey, come on already. Get going, I want to watch this."

"Stop calling me." I say with a smirk.

"I can't resist Scully....you know how much your voice turns me on."

"Yeah, right. Good-bye Mulder."

"Wait!"

"What?" I say, exasperated.

"You're on the cellular. Don't hang up, just start driving." he says and

I realize he must have planned this.

"Feeling a little lonely, Mulder?"

"Hell, yeah. Are you coming?"

I sigh and pick up my coat and the bag of pocorn I had wandered over and

gotten while he was talking. "Yes, I'm coming."

"Good. Don't hang up."

"I'm not."

I lapse into silence as I walk out the door and then turn the key in the

door to lock it.

"What are you doing?" he says.

"Locking my door." I say, amused and somewhat patronizing.

"Okay." He falls quiet and I can hear him breathe as I walk down the

stairs, figuring I need the exercise and it's faster anyway.

"Scully?"

"Huh?"

"What are you doing?" He sounds very suspicious as if he has just found

out something very incriminating about me.

"I'm walking down the stairs." I say, indignant.

"Oh." He is sheepish again.

"Why? What did you think I was doing?"

"I don't know. You were breathing kind of funny, and I was wondering if

you were . . . uh, having an asthma attack-"

"I don't have asthma, Mulder."

I have a funny feeling I know exactly what he thought was going on.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?" he says and his voice is very reticent.

"Stop watching your porn."

His half-guilty, half-amused snort reaches me and I smile to myself.

"So, where are you now?"

"This sounds surprising like phone sex, Mulder."

"Ooh.....she gives as good as she gets..." he murmurs in my ear.

"I'm getting in the car." I say and roll my eyes.

"Okay, hurry up. My foot is begging for your little hands."

It's kind of nice knowing that he needs me, wants me around. Once again,

he is throwing me a lifeline, a way to keep swimming.

"Thanks Mulder." I say softly.

He stops joking around and I hear him sigh. "Scully . . . "

He wants to say so much more than that but he can't, and I know it.

"Scully, you . . . I need you just as much . . . just as much."

I smile a little and start the car.

I'm still in the water, I'm still swimming, despite that it seems to be

in circles . . . but I'm not drowning.

I'm not drowning.

end

adios

RM

Dropped

Date sent: Sat, 30 May 1998 20:12:57 +0000

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is

intended.

NOTES:::::This takes place in the First Season. hint of MS/UST.

Dropped

=====

"Sorry your mother dropped you on your head.

Maybe her mother dropped her too.

In the end we all get dropped,

We all get black and blue."

--Carly Simon, "Didn't I?"

=====

The wheels were slipping under her and the wind gusted the bike across

the road. She skidded to a stop at the light and panted, waiting for it

to change and allow her to go on across.

She hated waiting for the light; some motorist always made a comment.

Some *male* motorist.

Not that it didn't secretly please her a little; it was just

embarassing.

She licked her lips and pushed some of her hair out of her eyes.

She'd taken up cycling as a way to keep in shape after some of Mulder's

more strenuous cases had left her with horrible aches. Riding her bike

toned her arms and stomach and excellently gave her leg muscles a

complete workout.

After three months, she felt ready to tackle Mulder's X-Files and the

crazy monsters and supposed vegetables turned abductees.

The light changed and she ignored the construction workers who were

eagerly clapping and calling, and made for her block again.

A small hill that no longer winded her and then there was the back of

her apartment building.

She cut through the yards and squeeled to a stop at the back porch where

she kept her water bottle.

Taking huge gulps she downed nearly half of it and rolled her bike

around to the front, managing not to trample all of Ms. Rouse's flowers

on her way.

It was an effort to wrestle her bike up the stairs and then into the

elevator, but once there, it was easy.

The lift rose and she watched the numbers peeling away like orange rind

and blew her bangs from her face in time to the chimes.

It was stuffy in the car and she always felt like she sweat more there

than the entire two hour bike trail at the park.

When the floor rolled up and she yanked her bike into her hall, she

noticed that her door was standing open.

Immediately she thought of the strange shadow people that came for

Mulder sometimes to talk, and she thought of monsters hiding in closets

and under beds.

Licking her lips she eased her gun out of the pouch around her mountain

bike's handle bars, then slid up to her door.

She jumped when Mulder's body came barreling out at her.

"Mulder!"

"Scully!"

She gasped for breath and shoved her gun into the waistband of her gym

shorts, then ran a hand across her sweaty forehead.

He noticed.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" she said, frowning at his utter

lack of decency.

He held the door open as she wheeled her bike inside and then helped her

stow it in the huge hall closet.

"So?" she said again, collapsing onto the sofa.

"Well I called and you didn't answer and I came over and . . . I got

scared."

Sheesh, the man was paranoid. "Mulder, people go out sometimes. People

do things like get groceries, buy clothes, ride their bikes . . . normal

people that is."

"Do I detect a note of sarcasm, Agent Scully?"

She shook her head. "Weariness, Agent Mulder."

He looked wounded and she sighed. "Not at you. I just rode through all

of the park in two hours and I come home and get the biggest scare of my

life . . . so far."

He watched her rub her eyes and push her stubborn hair out of her face.

It was curling on the ends from the humidity and her tight ponytail was

simply not keeping it all in. Her face was sun speckled and her freckles

showed up in sharp contrast to her sun faded blue eyes. He noticed light

streaks in her hair and the way her arms had a slight tan, while her

legs were evenly browned, not much, but good for a fair skinned person.

She licked her lip again and stood with a certain grace he couldn't

fathom.

"I'm going to take a shower, make yourself at home if you haven't

already."

He gaped at her and watched as she left him in the living room.

Her trust in him was remarkable. Here he had used the key she'd given

him for use in an emergency *only* and now she was telling him to make

himself at home and even taking a shower with him there.

She completely amazed him.

She scared him too.

How could he protect someone so naive, so trusting? If she grew jaded,

it would be his fault.

~~~~~

The shower helped get her mind back on track and as she snuck from the

bathroom to her bedroom, trying not to let him even get a glimpse, yet

wanting to let him get a little look, she knew his paranoia over her had

to stop.

She dried her hair with a towel and a quick five minutes with the blow

dryer, leaving it damp and unmanagable. She pulled it back into a

ponytail and dressed in a black tank top and kahki shorts, then went out

to the living room.

He was deep in one of his funks and she sighed.

"Mulder?"

He looked up and shook his head. She was surprised at how single minded

he could be. When he wanted to be depressed, he was depressed, when he

instead wanted to completely throw her off balance by noticing her,

commenting, teasing, he did that passsionately too.

"I hope you never become like me."

She smiled and said, "I hope I'm never as pathetic."

He refused to smile. "Scully, I hope you never have to see the things

I've seen, I hope you never lose this faith, this youthful enthusiasm

for life that you have."

"Mulder."

"No, I'm serious. I'll probably get you killed or kidnapped or hurt . .

."

She sighed and refused to be suck down into his black hole pessimism.

"Mulder, you know, stuff happens to poeple. Things die, go away, get

lost. When something happens, you deal with it. I can deal with it."

She watched him flinch. "But things that happen to everyone else happen

worse to me."

"Sheesh, Mulder. Did your mother drop you or something?"

He looked right at her and his sorrow pierced right into her.

"Or something."

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I just meant that . . . well, whatever happened to

you, with your sister . . . that happens to other people. You don't

think other people have their loved ones kidnapped or . . . just die?"

"I know they do. But this is me . . ."

"And if it happened to me?"

"I'd feel even worse."

She sighed and sat down on the couch next to him. "I guess I'm not going

to get you to think otherwise."

"Scully, if . . . if you got hurt I don't know what I'd do."

She silently watched his inner torture and wished she hadn't become a

Samantha to him.

"Mulder, if I get hurt, it was my choice. I don't have to stick around

you know. In fact, they're trying to get me to leave. But I won't. I

want the truth the same as you. Maybe you introduced me to it, but I

shook its hand, and I stayed to talk to it."

He smiled and leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"You're cute, you know that?"he said, then stood.

Shocked, she stared at him.

"What've you got to eat, Scully? I'm starved."

~~~~~

end

adios

RM

Elvis

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Characters belong to CC and 1013 Productions. No

infringement is intended. Elvis is his own man. (Though quite dead.)

Notes: MSR - PG13 - Aaagggghhhhh! I'm sick of Elvis. I live in Memphis

and you'd think that Elvis was the only thing going on here. I mean

sheesh, a policeman was shot yesterday and a house was sold and tons of

other stuff. So forgive me if this turns into a

Scully-going-off-on-Elvis-Week.

=-)

"Mulder, seriously, he's dead." I said to his back as he reached down to

pick up his luggage from the baggage carousel.

"Scully!" he sounded shocked.

"Mulder.....you really don't think he's still alive, do you?"

I saw that look on his face, the one that says 'I know exactly what

you're going to say so don't.'

"Mulder..." I said, sounding like a school teacher trying to explain the

rules to a kid who just doesn't get it. Then I understood. "Mulder! You

think *aliens* took Elvis Presley?!"

He sniffed and handed me my one black piece of luggage. "It's a working

theory."

"Yeah, of lunatics!" I said.

###X###

I realize now that was the wrong thing to say to Mulder. I mean, I

didn't try to hurt him, but after that he hasn't answered me.

"Mulder, come on..." I say and he turns to me, a look of scorn on his

face.

"Oh, jeez, Mulder. I didn't mean it." I say. Never has he held my

beliefs against me. I guess I scandalized sacred ground with that

comment.

We're in the motel room, and I just know this motel is *the* place for

the prostitutes to bring their 'work.' I mean, I can hear them.

"Mulder, you had to pick this place, huh? Admiral Benbow Inn. What a

name....what a whorehouse."

He turns and stares at me icily.

"Mulder." I am sick of this. "I'm going back to D.C."

"No! Please, Scully, stay here. It'll be fun, I promise."

I seriously doubt this, but I'm not saying that to his face. "Mulder,

this is a little ridiculous. There is no X-File here."

He frowns. "What about the fact that on Elvis Presley's birth

certificate, it clearly spells his middle name with one A. But on his

headstone, it has two? A-A-R-O-N."

I can't beleive he's telling me this. "Mulder. One word. Mistake. Oh,

wait, make that two words. Stupidity."

He glares at me. "Scully."

I guess that's a warning.

"Just come to Graceland with me, okay?"

"Why? There will be a ton of people there straining to glimpse a man

that not only was an alcoholic, but a drug addict that had eccentric

behavior and probably bi-polar disorder."

"How come you know so much about Elvis?"

I groan. You led yourself to slaughter on that one Dana.

"All right. I'll come."

He smiles. "Don't let me twist you arm, or anything Scully."

It's my turn to glare. "Mulder.." Mine is now a warning.

He knows how far he can go.

"Glad you're coming with me Scully. It wouldn't be any fun without you."

He is pouting.

What a baby!

###X###

The bus goes through the gates and up the driveway and I am impressed

that everyone on the little bus can stay so very quiet. The tour is now

on tape and I think it cheapens the whole thing; I liked the tour guides

the last time I was here with Melissa.

"I don't like tapes, Mulder." I say, as the bus rolls to a stop.

I stand, ready to depart and the crowd, including Mulder reamins seated.

He yanks me down and we are just sitting here, waiting.

How come everyone else knew to remain seated?

Oh......they've been here before.

Actually, so have I, but I didn't remember to stay seated.

In irony, John Denver is playing in the little piped in music. I think

it's the song "It Amazes Me." How very appropriate.

Then we are let off.

Finally. Into the hot, humid Memphis day.

"Mulder, it's August!" I complain.

His look plainly tells me to shut up.

Ooohh. Sorry, didn't realize this was so holy for you, Mulder.

We put on the tapes and headphones and immediately the voice tells us

that the house was bought from a doctor for such and such amount of

money and that the doctor's wife was named Grace, hence Graceland. So

Elvis never changed it. He met Priscilla when she was forteen.....blah

blah blah. I could care less.

Mulder is enraptured.

###X###

Finally out of that weird house.

A Jungle Room? Complete with waterfall?

A TV Room? With yellow, cancary yellow interior and about twelve

televisions?

Whatever.

Mulder is practically prostrate in front of the grave.

I am a little worried.

I pull him away. "Mulder.....don't worship him...."

He frowns and looks around at the crowd who are worshipping him.

"I'm not Scully. I'm looking to see if the headstone has been-"

"What? Tampered with? Mulder they did move his body, along with his

parents and stillborn twin to this place from a real cemetery."

He frowns. "Yeah, that's going to be a real problem."

I yank him away from the crowd and past the standing sprays of memorial

flowers that come from as far away as China and as odd as Paraguay.

No joke.

"Mulder, listen carefully. You're scaring me here. Just stop with this,

all right?"

I think my voice wavered a bit. If he turns into one of those crazy,

Elvis-sighters, then there is no way I will have any respect for him.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully. All right. I'll stop."

He looks at me and I think he can see the fear in me, that he will go

crazy on me and I'll loose him.

"I'm okay. Really." he says.

I hope so.

"Here, as long as I'm being crazy, why don't I be crazy in a more

productive manner?"

I raise an eyebrow to his words and look in his eyes.

His eyes are getting bigger, no closer to me. What?

Oh my gosh, Mulder is kissing me.

"Mulder!"

He pulls away and grins. "I've always wanted to do that."

I have no clue what to say. Despite that he has just violated my

personal space, not that he doesn't all ready, but he's acting crazy.

Elvis crazy.

"Mulder.."

He smiles and leans forward again. "Once more, Scully..."

This time I catch his lips in my mouth and I don't let him get away.

If Mulder and the rest of the world can go crazy one day, why not me?

Elvis crazy that is.

end,

adios

tchau

RocketMan

Ummm...this is a story about e-mail and poetry, inspired halfway by

GreenFish's two and halfway by our school Literary Magazine, from which

I got all these great poems. So just read it and think of the poems

and... I'll shut up and get started now.

Author: RocketMan <[email protected]>

Date: A long time ago

Disclaimer: Okay, I have the poems' authors when they come up, but once

again they are not mine. Not mine. And of course, neither is Mulder or

Scully, I just decided to steal them for a little bit. No, no, not

steal. Borrow is the word. (If I could have them, I'd take them.)

Distribute: Go ahead, make my day.

Rating: G

Content: I really don't think it's ..... I mean it's fluff, basically.

Spoiler: I'm going to be careful and say fourth season, though anyone

could read it and it wouldn't spoil anything.

Classification: MSR-oh yeah...

Summary: I did that up there, didn't I? Oh well.

Author's Notes: This isn't really all that great, just nice for shippers

and poets. Or those waxing poetic.

Mulder finished tyoing on his computer and clicked on the Send icon,

watching as the message box at the bottom connected to the e-mailman. He

wondered if the e-mailman had to where a uniform, or if there were

thousands of them in one huge room, all with cramps in their legs and

aches in their backs. He wondered why you never heard of e-mailmen going

crazy and killing a bunch of people, if they sat behind computers all

day.

He also wondered if he had done the right thing.

Dana Scully saw the Mail icon flash at the top left, ever the little

apple, and sighed. If it was Frohike again, she'd . . . she'd be mad.

She had just gone through a hundred messages already; what happens when

you go away for a while and don't check them, and she was sick of it.

But she dutifully clicked on the Get Mail Now icon and waited as the

message loaded.

It was from Mulder and she smiled to herself, a bit surprised, and a

bit dreading whatever he had to tell her. They'd had an argument, maybe

he was trying to make up?

< "Mulder, get off it! He didn't take her anywhere! She says he didnt,

he says he didn't, and you're not getting anywhere by insisting-"

"Scully! Stop it! Just stop it, okay? You can believe their lies if you

want to, but I won't!"

"Mulder . . . let's just go home . . . please . . . "

"You go ahead, but I'm staying here to find the truth, in case you've

forgotten your job description!">

That had been a terrible argument, but she had stayed and helped him,

and he had been wrong, but she had tried to forget and push it away. But

it was always there, drawing a veil between them since they'd gotten

back.

The message said:

<Scully-

Can't figure what went wrong.>

And there was a poem attached, and she read it slowly, to catch all of

it. She hadn't been very good at explicating poems in high school

English.

< cargo

by Chad Nixon

i watch you walking

off to your car fists

clenched in some

frustration about

my stupid, stupid

actions -

i will take it back a

million times but it's

there and it's right and

i'm happy in it's immobility

you should be so

angry you don't understand

the way i lie in bed

waiting for the sun to

go away and night to

tell me

"sleep, sleep.">

Scully sighed and thought just how accurately it described him. Even

when he was apologizing he wasn't backing down from his beliefs; he

still thought he was right. And she had to learn how to accept that. And

of course he would wait at night, for the brightness to go away and

darkness to envelope him and sleep to come.

She needed to respond to him equally. Tell him she would play his

little game and that she did understand. She did understand.

Scully spent thirty minutes searching through her books of poetry to

find the same author Mulder had used, but instead found a different poem

that caught her attention.

<Mulder-

My anger is never because of you. Sometimes I really just don't want

to see what I should be facing.

Faith

Shanelle Diaz

Realization of the loss,

a question of faith

beyond the limits of fact or reason

it lies in bed with intuition,

it lies dormant

while I need it most.>

Scully swallowed dryly and prayed Mulder was still online so that she

could know his response. If he didn't send her something back, there was

no way she would get any sleep that night.

She waited thirty more minutes and just as she was about to quit out of

Netscape, the message icon blinked cheerfully at her. She now understood

the old phrase about killing the messanger in old days. If this was

bad...

<Scully,

I wish I knew when faith had fallen asleep on us. I think I

understand, I'd like to understand. Maybe this will give you the faith

you seek.

I Can Never Tell You

Logan Khune

I can tell you all my thoughts

the second they cross my mind.

I can tell you all about my past,

all the things I've done.

That I'm ashamed

that I hurt from

that I regret

that I don't want to remember

But there's one thing I can't tell you.

I can tell you every joke

and make you laugh.

I can tell you a story

and make you smile.

I can tell you all my problems

everything that's going wrong

that I fear

that I worry over

that enrages me.

But there is one thing I can't tell you.

I can tell you all my dreams

all my hopes

all my nightmares.

Of everything I know there is one thing I cannot tell you.

I can never tell you how much you give

to me

to my life

to my future.

I can never tell you how much I want

to give it back to you

and live for you

and hold onto you

for something holds me back

and

I can never tell you.>

Dana felt her hand tremble as she read the poem, letting his voice fill

her head as if he was right there reading it to her. He thought she gave

so much to him, while in truth, if it weren't for him, she would have

stopped long ago, she would have given up on herself and on finding the

truth. She would have given up on life. Cancer equals death. Except when

Mulder was around.

She took out the book of contemporary poetry and felt as if she needed

to get away from the heaviness, find something a little safer. What she

sent him back, though, was anything but safe.

<Mulder-

Thank you for all you have given me, the gift of faith and trust. You

tell me every day what I mean, what my purpose is, what I can put my

faith in. I guess I needed to hear it again.

A Call To Robin

Casey Childress

In the dead of night

the small alley in town,

Some men approached me

rabid and hunting for a feast.

You appeared so quietly

without a sound.

The shadow of Batman

the shadow of darkness

So strong, so swift.

Does Robin evere get to kiss the girl?>

Holy, cow, what the hell am I doing?

Mulder read it again, to make sure his eyes weren't playing cruel tricks

on him, teasing him with things he desperately wanted to see. But there

it was again, Does Robin ever get to kiss the girl?

Oh....I wish, I feverently wish.

<Scully-

Robin doesn't feel he's worthy enough to kiss the girl - after all he

is the shadow of darkness. But he did get the chance once, when the girl

was needing it, needing some comfort and someone to say she wasn't

alone. But it was only on the forehead.

Did he even realize? Did she?

beautiful

Chad Nixon

hurt and

silently bleeding

as her kiss

sits on my back-

the way the lower

lip stuck and peeled

slowly off and i

laughed because it

all felt so good.

we

drove together

and the words

dripped from

from your

mouth i wanted it to stop

i wanted to kiss you again-

the way the lower

lip stuck and curled into

a smile and you were

so beautiful

too beautiful.>

Dana's breath caught in her throat and she blinked furiously to withold

tears. He was right; it had all felt so good. She could remember every

exact detail of that slight kiss on her forehead, the way he had placed

his hands on the sides of her face and how the warmth in his lips had

infused her with strength so much better than his words.

They didn't realize. They hadn't realized that with every day they drew

closer, more tightly bound to each other, a force to be reckoned with.

<Mulder-

I didn't realize. Did you? Do we want the same things? Or is this safe

enough to throw aside and forget the next day? Do you want to forget?

Are the words that ineffectual, to allow us to forget?

attempt

Chad Nixon

words are never

perfect, they

only hurt them-

selves in existence.

they never rhyme or

link to form

complete thoughts,

nor exemplify what

they hope to symbolize.

it is in vain that

i wirte this, the

language is entirely

limiting, that being

the only reason I

do.>

Mulder finished reading the poem she had sent, attached with her

questions and her open honesty. The message was not lost on him; words

were inadequate to fully express everything that they had. It was too

complex and intricate to properly explore and understand, let alone act

upon. But he wanted to act. He was sick of standing beside her and

letting the hurt and pain and joy and love be locked away inside where

they would never talk about it again.

<Scully-

Language can't express, yet we still try. Is it easier than face to

face? Because somehow this is all unreal. Being around you......it's

like having someone to always understand me, even when I know you really

don't.

Here's all you need to understand. I don't want you hurt. And I seem to

always hurt you anyway. That's it, and I don't think my brain fully

realizes the implications of this yet. Is my heart playing a joke on me?

joke

Chad Nixon

YOU LOOK

i

SO SAD AND FAR

wanted

AWAY. HE TOOK

to

SOMETHING FROM

kiss

YOU AND YOU BEGGED

you.

ME FOR IT BACK

I

BUT ALL I DID WAS

wanted

SMILE AND TAKE

to

YOU INTO MY ARMS

kiss

AND SAY "I'M SORRY"

you.>

Scully's breath caught on the poem; she sucked in air and tried to

pretend it didn't matter, that they could go back, but it was there and

it was right,and she couldn't ignore it. The mantra. I wanted to kiss

you. She didn't want to ignore it anymore. And he realized now, didn't

he, why he felt the way he did?

<Mulder-

Mulder. You've given it back to me.>

One message, short, no poem, unsigned and yet when he read it, his blood

ran hot and cold and he couldn't seem to get enough air in his lungs.

She was saying out loud what had been said all along, but without the

masks and the guises and the walls to hide behind.

Scully saw her message light blinking and wondered what he could say to

that, prayed he would say something to it.

<S-

I'm coming.

-M>

Her breath fell away and she hastily turned off her computer and

snatched up some things off the floor and went and waited at the door.

He was coming.

The knock was soft and light and seemed almost hesitant, like the ride

over had made him doubt.

She opened it and stepped into his arms.

"I had to come over, Scully. Before we both lost our courage." he

whispered, a sound like wind on the sea.

She was shaking in his arms, her courage long gone, and desire the only

thing that kept her from running.

"I'm glad you did," she said back, and he leaned closer to catch her

words for they were so faint.

Then he kissed her and said, "Sometimes Robin gets to kiss the girl."

That was the end!!!!

Sappy huh? Too bad! =-P

Adios

RocketMan

Ephemera

Date: Sun, 26 Oct 1997 21:17:18 +0000

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. The word

ephemera was used in a Madeleine L'Engle book and so I guess she kind of

owns this idea too.....well, she fostered it. Go check out from your

local library a book called "A Live Coal in the Sea" It's worth it. Her

stuff is very real. She is someone I aspire to.

Ephemera - a person or thing that only exists or lasts a short

transitory

time.

Ephemera

I am dying and this is a truth I have come to face with open eyes and a

realtively clear mind.

I hope to die in peace and with a sense of accomplishment, that my short

life has made a difference for good.

As one of my professors, a beloved mentor, said, "Use your powers for

good, not evil."

I hope I have used my powers, whatever they may be, for good.

I hope I have done Mulder some good, that my leaving will not hurt him

more than if I had never been in his life.

He sees leaving as a betrayal though, and it comes back on himself,

making him twistingly believe that it is somehow his betrayal, and that

correlates into self punishment.

I do not want to be a cause for more of that.

I think Mulder is the only man that can care so much and yet make it

seem that he cares so very little.

All the time.

I know he cares, but he shows quite the opposite every day I have ever

worked with him.

He doesn't know how I guess.

And that is a poor pitiful excuse for a grown man.

I have seemed to let it excuse him though, haven't I?

I am but a small, very small, person in this whole universe, and yet I

have so much power for good or evil.

I have not always picked the good. I have not always helped Mulder or

been tolerant of his actions.

Sometimes Mulder is more than one very small person in the whole

universe can handle.

But I have tried most times to be whatever he needs. And I have always

failed and he has run off and gotten hurt, come back and reunited

himself with me in some hospital, claiming that his powers have been

used for good.

But it has used for bad with me.

So how many wrongs make a right?

And how many rights make up for so many wrongs?

I am sometimes very glad that death approaches, although Mulder does not

realize the enormity of it all.

I am still immortal to him. I cannot fail. I cannot die.

I will.

And when I do, he will maybe realize what he missed out on realizing

before. Or he will find that ocean-chasm of hurt that churns inside him

and drop another coal into the sea.

It maybe won't make much difference.

Or it will set off a chain reaction that has needed to explode for so

very long. An ablution of everything. An emotional purging that will

rival hurricanes in intensity.

Through it all, Mulder will survive. He has always, and always will. He

has that specialness about him that allows everything to hurt him

terribly, but not make a crippling wound.

A wound, yes. But it will never plunge him into misery and destitution.

I am calm now, rationalizing this all in my mind.

He will renew his strength with my death, and maybe eventually, he will

find the truth about Samantha, about the whole messed up lives of his

parents that he was born into.

He will find his Truth, whatever that might be, however false it might

be.

I know my truth at this moment, and I know it may be shaken later, or

tested or corrupted, proven to be wrong, but I still know it now.

My truth is my life.

I have lived and it has been good.

I have laughed and it has been good.

I have cried, sworn, won, lost, fought, hurt, grown up, and it has all

been good.

I have had my life, ephemeral though it may be, and who can take that

all away?

I have lived.

And it has been good.

end

adios

RocketMan