RocketMan V

Data: Sexta-feira, 19 de Dezembro de 1997 19:58

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

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

infringement is intended.

Warning: Spoiler for Season Four and Redux. Character Death ( but not

really)

How It Might Have Been

He felt the uneasiness of their sudden beautiful cure weighing on him.

He watched her smile at her family, talk with Father McCue, and throw

dark glances at him from time to time, all with the sense of dread that

this had been too easy.

But he wasn't going to tell her that.

At ten that night, Bill Jr. left, guiding their mother out with him and

smiling at Dana with a bit laughter, Mrs. Scully trying to throw last

minute love over her shoulder.

Mulder stayed with her for a while, concerned that she needed sleep and

not him, but she made him stay.

"I want to talk with you for a little bit. Tell me what's happening."

she said, her voice soft and new. Changed. That was how it was.

Everything seemed changed, now that she was back.

"Nothing much is happening. You. You're happening." he said, throwing

her a saucy look meant to make her laugh.

"Oh, really." she said, smiling and reaching for his hand.

He grabbed her fingers and squeezed them.

"Is that all?" she said, eyebrows lifting.

"It's all I want to talk about."

"I'm all you want to talk about?" she said with a teasing smile as she

twisted his words around.

"You're all I want to think about." he said, managing to turn her

playful words right back on her.

She didn't acknowledge it, as always, but he seemed to think it had

gotten to her a little more.

Maybe it was the reason for her next words.

"Thank you for being here with me, Mulder. It was very important to me.

I thought I had hurt you because of what I'd said."

He tilted his head, pretending he had no clue what she meant.

But he did. And it had hurt. But he wasn't going to show her that.

"About the cancer. I needed you here with me, and even though I'd said

that, you were here. I didn't mean it. Mulder, I don't blame you, okay?"

He nodded and squeezed her hand, but he didn't know if she truly felt

that way, or even if she would have felt that way had the cure not come.

Would she still be so willing to forgive if she hadn't made it?

"I'll let you sleep now, Scully. Good night. Sweet dreams."

She smiled up at him as he rose from her bed and let his hand go.

He enjoyed the warmth of that smile all the way home.

~~~~~

He knew he was dreaming but it wouldn't leave and he couldn't find

something to wake him up.

Pinching wasn't working, and his usual self defense mechanisms weren't

working either.

It seemed almost as if he were a ghost.

Looking back on the past, replaying over and over again.

But it was changed.

He saw himself come in to her room, but there was no smile, no relief,

but still the same people.

Bill, who glowered at him until he looked away, Mrs. Scully, who had

eyes only for her last daughter, and the priest, all were there again.

But it was changed.

He sat beside her, took her weak and trembling hand from the bed and

kissed it, ignoring the hate in Bill's eyes and trying to forget the

already haunted look of Mrs. Scully.

He watched her try to move, to respond to his presence, but she was too

weak, and probably not going to make it through the night.

Bill left to escort the priest back to his car, and Mrs. Scully went

outside, not able to bear it any longer.

Once again, he was alone with her.

But it was changed.

"Scully?" he whispered, moving close to her face to see if there was any

reaction, any acknowledgement of him.

Her eyes flickered and opened and he saw her blue eyes, paled and sapped

of color as she herself was sapped of life.

"Oh, God, Scully. Don't die." he moaned.

She shook her head and her chest rumbled as she tried to clear her voice

to speak. The words failed and her mind failed and he felt as if he too

had failed.

He laid his head to her pillow so that he could feel her against him,

one last time, one last time.

"Muld..rr" she murmured and even though it was the dying cry on fading

lips, it sounded like an angel's symphony.

"Oh God, Scully..."

"Mulder..." She turned to him, her eyes incredibly close to his, so that

her face was out of focus and her image blurred.

He drew away to see all of her and stroked her cheek.

"Mulder, tell me . . ." She paused to cough, a sound so loud and hard it

made him agonize to hear it.

"Tell me what I did wrong," she whispered, her voice so dry and brittle

he wondered that it hadn't been snapped in two by her coughing. "Tell me

what I did wrong and I won't do it again."

He began to sob.

"Oh, God, Scully." He managed to speak between hiccups and sobs and the

tears raining on his droughted cheeks. "Nothing. You didn't do anything

wrong. It's all my fault. I should be punished. Not you, not you."

She put her palm to his cheek and turned her head away from him again,

eyes closing, shutting out the weak light from her ice blue eyes.

"No, Scully. I'm sorry. Please don't give up yet."

She nodded and yet let her eyes slam shut, like a door in his face.

"Scully?!" he said, panicked that she would die, here without her mother

to see, or her brother to protect her.

But it was only him.

Suddenly she turned to him, eyes clear and lucid and brighter than

heaven and he felt relief.

"It's not your fault." she said and then she crashed down.

Everything went off at the same time, making a cacophony of horrible

music that assailed his ears and stole her away from him for forever.

Forever.

And everyone came running, but it was too late.

She was gone.

~~~~

He woke up sucking in great greedy lungfuls of air, trying to get the

horrible pressure off of his chest, and feeling that everything had

changed.

He saw her dying in his mind's eye, in burning, horrifying color and

shook so hard that he fell from the couch and onto the floor.

On his hands and knees he rocked back and forth, feeling every last

fiber of life in him slowly x-ing out.

"Oh, God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God." he ranted, shaking, trembling.

She hadn't come back; she hadn't come back....

The words of mercy: "It's not your fault.."

And they shifted and flowed through his heart and head until they became

something else.

"I don't blame you."

In her voice, her happy, relieved, alive voice coming at him from

reality and reminding him.

He called the hospital, called her room phone, anxious for the truth,

draeding the truth.

"H'llo?" came a confused, garbled, just woken up . .

"Scully."

"Mulder?" she answered, her voice come quick and heavy. "What happened?

Where are you?"

"No, it's okay. You're okay. It's okay."

He was rambling but he didn't care.

"Yeah," she said softly, cutting off his parade of 'okay's.

"Yeah, Mulder. I'm okay."

He shuddered out a grief worn sigh. "I dreamed that you being okay was a

dream."

"No. I'm right here. Fine and going to stay that way." she said, giving

him the confirmation he needed.

"Thanks." he replied, embarrassed now that sense had returned.

<I don't balme you Mulder......It's not your fault>

"Thanks Scully."

She nodded even though he could not see that and clucked softly on the

phone to him. "Get some sleep Mulder. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good night."

"Sweeter dreams," she replied and they hung up.

<I don't blame you Mulder.>

Two miracles in one day.

end

adios

RM

Fade Away

Date: Mon, 20 Jul 1998 18:33:37 +0000

Author: RM >[email protected]<

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

intended. I do not own this song either.

SPOILERS::::Pilot

Sumamry: A rainy night and familiarity.

Dedicated to Pandora, for giving me this song and having the confidence

in my abilities to write a fanfic that would do it justice.

~~~~~

Fade Away

~~~~~

"I want to hold the hand inside you

I want to take the breath that's true

I look to you and I see nothing

I look to you to see the truth. . .

Fade into you, strange you never knew

Fade into you, I think it's strange you never knew..."

--Mazzy Star 'So Tonight That I Might See'

~~~~~

There was silence.

That was the thing she noticed first, after the occasional sounds of

airplane and business, the thrum of engines, and the nonstop musings of

a man bent on a case.

Walking from the small, propeller plane's stairs, to the airport inside,

she caught the dizzying smell of Southern thuderstorms, and she breathed

it in with quick tight breaths.

Mulder dashed toward the airport's open doors as the first few drops

landed around them.

At the entrance, his body safely sheltered by the overhang, he looked

back to her with a an odd look on his face.

She was walking normally, gliding through the increasing shower without

disturbance.

He realized she *liked* the rain.

~~~~~

It was quiet in the car too.

The thrum of the wheels on pavement and the hush of rain and thunder

were their companions, keeping a steady downfall of water.

She relaxed into the feel of heavy thunderstorms and night.

Pulling up to their motel, she found she was glad that their case did

not really start until tomorrow, that they could simply relax tonight,

go over it slowly, slowly, just as the rain made it's way from the

heavens with such langour and laziness that it soothed her right to the

soul.

Thunder crackled and lightning split up the sky, showing her Mulder's

hasty form as he ran through the rain to the office.

It was streaking across the windshield, washing away thought as it

cascaded down the sides of the car, giving her comfort with the presence

of power and nature.

Hearing the tap, the steady fall of rain everywhere, the whisper of

wind, made her content.

It made her changed, made her want to relax, to drift away into a place

that was somewhere between sleep and conscious thought.

It eased her into this place with remarkable speed, shifted her from

agent to woman with surprising ease.

Woman . . . languid, soft, wanting a touch, needing a breath of love.

She sighed and was jerked from her reverie by the door clicking open and

Mulder's wet, tired body sliding into their car.

He shivered and turned up the heater, even though it was a summer

thunderstorm and already muggy.

As heat blasted at them, Mulder shivered in the cold damp of his body

and drove around the side to their rooms.

They had an upstairs connecting room, with windows that faced the back

wilderness beyond.

The stairs leading up was protected by its location in the center of the

building and through the dim passage, she could see all the way to the

inner courtyard and the pool dancing with rain.

She and Mulder pulled their luggage upstairs and separated to unpack,

get settled, deposit their belongings in their places.

She found a balcony in her room, with a small sliding door that led out

to the concreted structure, two deck chairs already set out.

She peered closer and noticed that the white plastic chairs were not

wet, and that rain only spotted the outside edges of the enclosement.

Sighing, she realized it had a roof.

She hurriedly pulled off her traveling pantsuit and pulled on a pair of

cool jeans, and a cotton short sleeved shirt.

With obvious pleasure, she slipped out to the balcony.

Dropping into the chair, she perched her bare feet on the railing and

closed her eyes, breathing in burning ozone and the fresh natural feel

of storms.

It made her slip right back into herself, slide down the layers of agent

and professional and doctor that made her Scully, back to the inner

light and fundamental beliefs that made her Dana.

Her body relaxed as her mind wandered.

She saw images behind her closed eyes, her father reaching out to her at

Christmas, picking her up, swinging her around for a huge hug.

There was her mother holding her in Sunday morning church as she fell

asleep in her lap, and her sister taking up for her when she wanted to

play with her brothers. Her younger brother Charles, his grin when he

got to tease his older sister, and then Bill when he had stood in front

of her to protect her from the school bully.

It made her feel childlike, made her slip back to innocence and warmth

and good things.

There was the rain again, their first case when she thought he had to be

so off the wall, so crazy, that nothing could save him.

Standing in the rain, letting it pour over them, the lost time and the

orange 'X' on the road.

Innocence even then. Not knowing the full extent of what she had

committed herself too, yet determined she would be honest, she would

back him up.

She would back him up.

It all pooled around her, infused her damp body with memories and

thoughts. She was fading away into the past, letting rain and time catch

her.

And then a hand touched her face and she bolted upright, eyes opened to

reveal intense fear blue.

Mulder placed a hand to her shoulder, squeezed it softly.

"I thought you'd be coming over," he said, and moved to sit in the chair

next to hers.

She said nothing, but remembered their unspoken agreement for her to

come to him, let the case unravel between them.

"It's beautiful out here," he murmured.

So then he felt it too. The surreal nature a thunderstorm could create,

the tug of the past on her.

She looked over at him, at the way his wet hair hung in his eyes like

unruly strands of freedom, at the way his fingers curled softly over the

arms of the deck chair, at the way his eyes seemed to melt into nothing.

"I was remembering our first case, the rain."

"I told you a lot of things that night," he said.

She frowned, then smiled. She had been thinking of being *in* the rain,

while he had remembered being in the motel, with the lights out and her

hearing his life in her robe and her fear.

She turned to see him, showed him her laugh.

"I *showed* you a lot of things that night."

He grinned and took her hand across the small space between them. "Sure

did, but I was pretty calm despite it."

"Except for the fact that it took you about a full minute to look all

over me before you realized what I was doing."

"Hey, I was just making sure you were okay."

She smiled again, felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the cool caress

of the rain.

Lightning lit the sky and revealed the dark trees.

He stood and leaned against the balcony railing, watching her directly,

placing a hand to her feet and rubbing them absent-mindedly.

She tilted her head and wiggled her toes.

"You were so young then, Scully."

He seemed almost sad, almost as if it was his fault she was older now.

"I was pretty green," she replied.

"Not only that, just young. I was afraid I had done something, afraid

your young energy would get you in trouble. I wasn't afraid that you

were a spy, although that did come up, but more that you were young and

ready to take on the world."

She sighed. "I still feel that way most times."

He grinned suddenly. "And you gave that back to me, too."

She glanced up at him with surprise, then stood, coming to sit beside

him on the rail, making her jeans damp.

She smelled soap on him, saw that the damp hair was because of a shower,

saw his clean white feet gleaming against the concrete.

He slipped an arm around her waist, pulled her briefly against his chest

with a quick friendly hug.

She didn't pull back, simply rested her cheek against him and looked out

at the sky.

She was slipping back again, swimming through the currents of herself

back to the primal soul place that made her think and feel what was true

and real.

Think and feel and act.

He seemed to find her there too.

Mulder pushed off the rail and stood next to her, taking her deeper into

his embrace and running his hands along her hair.

Her eyes closed and she breathed in soap and rain and green things and

Mulder things, letting the thrill of touch heat her through.

His palms were heavy along her face, fingers finding her scalp and

massaging sleepiness deep into her.

Then her forehead came to his shoulder, her arms curled in, so that she

was completely wrapped in him, recieving comfort.

He began humming, breathing out a melody with the life that stirred the

hair in his fingers, the music touching her soul.

She was fading into him, fading down down down into his nothing asked

embrace, slipping further into herself and therefore, further into him.

They swayed, began to dance softly, smoothly, bare feet brushing against

cold concrete, bodies melted together into one being.

She thought the song might be "Close to You" and began murmuring the

words under her breath.

"Just like me . . . they long to be . . . close to you. . ."

Dancing out in the rain, barefoot, with the humidity and the closeness

and the thunder making her dizzy.

In this, she knew, she knew.

Funny how she had never known before, strange how his eyes hadn't given

it away every time he looked at her.

His lips were gentle on her skin, light as rain, slipping down her nose,

reaching her mouth with caution, then abandoning that for the heat

rippling through.

<Just like me. . . they long to be . . .close to you. . >

Strange how the kiss seemed to make them fade away . . .

~~~~~

end

adios

RM

Author: RM >[email protected]<

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

intended.

NOTE:::::This is my new email addy. Please take note. Thanks for staying

with me.

WARNING::::Post-All Souls, MSR almost

~~~~~

Faith

~~~~~

"You mean accepting my loss?"

"Can you accept it?"

"Maybe that's what faith is."

--All Souls

~~~~~

There was always around her the sense that she was missing something.

Her mother was noticing this and she sent her daughter cards, occasionally

phoning, even randomly dropping by.

Needless to say, Scully didn't enjoy the 'dropping by' especially when

every event caused the missing feeling to crest over her in waves.

Missing.

She didn't know what it was, didn't know how to get around it, or even

what to do with it.

Missing.

She wanted to ask Mulder, wanted to come running up to him and have hime

tell her that everything was all right.

But he had no belief.

And without his belief, she had no strength.

~~~~~

The day dazzled past in a blur of missing time and an autopsy.

She fell to her knees when she got home, hitting the couch and slumping

into its rigid embrace. There was nothing she could think of to make

things better, and nothing she could do to help herself.

She was missing something.

It ached like a punch to her gut, twisting her insides and creating this

sense of now and not yet. Like she was stuck.

Stuck in her nothing.

Her missing.

~~~~~

There were dreams.

Of white lights and music that sounded shrill and harsh, of men bending

over her and Japanese words flowing through her mind.

Of long faces with long eyes.

Of screaming in pain.

Of a little girl staring back at me with those eyes that say, "Please,

please, Mommy let me go."

"Please let me go,"

~~~~~

She woke suddenly, sweating, retching over the side of her bed with all

the pent up fear and sickening feelings that she never allowed to surface.

Scully stumbled to the bathroom and collapsed to the cool floor, letting

her mind wander with overwhelming exhaustion.

The numbing knowledge that Emily was dead sent her to the darkness of

sleep.

~~~~~

There were hands reaching for her, hands and a long face, but no eyes, no

mouth, not happiness or love or . . .

She screamed, screamed for her savior, her mortal savior that could

vanquish any foe, screamed his name with all the strength in her and then

felt nothing.

Cold.

No.

Hands.

Wake up, I'm sorry, wake up, Scully,

Wake up, I didn't mean to let them take you, wake up, I'm here

Wake up, Scully.

Her eyes flickered and she saw the long face of her Mulder.

"Mul...."

"Scully, Scully, wake up. I'm sorry, I'm sorry this-"

She jumped away, out of his arms, off the cold cold floor and covered her

chest with her crossed arms.

"Mulder."

"Scully."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was supposed to pick you up for the airport, remember? You didn't

answer. . ."

She shivered and looked away, the way her eyes were cold and dead making

him want to take her in his arms again.

Apologize until she stopped hurting.

"Scully?"

"Mulder, just leave."

"Scully, I want to know what's going on."

"No, Mulder, you don't really want to know. You'd find it hurt too much if

you did."

He stared at her for a long moment.

"I'll be out in a second, Mulder. Let me get dressed."

~~~~~

More dreams on the plane.

Dreams of little girls dying, dreams of seraphims taking away her

children, taking away Mulder, taking away Samantha.

She stayed awake when she could, but she had no sleep the night before and

Mulder was letting her head fall to his shoulder.

Resting on his shoulder.

It was nice.

Soft feeling.

Comforting.

When she sat up again, it was missing. Just like everything else in her

life.

Missing.

~~~~~

"Can you accept it?"

She blanched, felt her face grow pale and limp.

"What?"

"Scully?"

Mulder reached out for her just as she felt her body give way.

can you accept it

maybe

maybe

maybe that's what faith is

what belief is

where strength comes from

~~~~~

Mulder's eyes met hers when she was brought from outer darkness.

She cleared her throat and was glad she had blacked out in her hotel room,

with Mulder there to catch her.

"Scully?"

"Mulder, I- I . . ."

She paused, realized this was something, somewhere he could never go with

her.

This was her sorrow, and ultimately, her journey.

There was nothing he could do to make it easier. Nothing to give her

strength.

She had to find that on her own.

Find her faith, and there. . .

there would her strength lie also.

~~~~~

Dreams.

Of a tiny face

with blonde hair and blue eyes and a grin that rivaled Mulder's when she

joked around with him

and a cross, dangling in the light

a cross

and a loss

a pain so deep she would keep it in her forever

forever and heaven

eternity

and then

then

the peace

the knowing that seraphim - God - love

had taken her daughter from the hate and the waste of the world.

And in that loss

that cross

was her faith.

~~~~~

end

adios

RM

how was it?

lame I know.

Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 22:32:52 +0000

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Chris Carter owns the characters of Mulder and Scully. No

infringement is intended.

Rating: PG13 - may be slightly disturbing. VS, UST-Angst

Summary: Scully does a bit of introspection when she gets a cut.

Author's Notes: I have recently been exposed to someone who mutilates

herself. This is therefore coming out in my writing. Expect more dealing

with this. Turn away if the idea sickens you right now. But nothing is

graphic.

I am hurting?

Huh?

My finger hurts, right on the side-

Oh.

That's why.

I'm bleeding.

Tiny round drops of something that most people call lifeblood.

Crimson and flowing down my finger, mixing with the white-peach of my

skin to create an art form.

It feels warm and thick sliding down, brightly marring the sick pale of

my hand.

I stare at it, then squeeze my fingertip, causing more of this scarlet

substance to pool up and tumble out.

It's dark, rich, healthy seeming.

I know better than that.

If I could see close enough, if I could have microscopic eyesight, I

would find abnormal, dark cells, growing and feeding off the oxygen my

every breath supplies it with.

I would find cancer.

All that death in something so life giving.

Why am I so fascinated with this cut?

It's just a small abrasion, the natural course of events taking over,

the red blood cells rushing to the broken area and repairing the damage,

clotting and drying up the leak.

My blood, dripping off the side of my finger, landing in silence on the

desk, staining a report I have to turn in.

It's the same blood that runs from my nose when the tumor triggers it,

the same blood that tells me that my cancer is moving, growing,

mutating.

It's the same.

Yet it's not.

This is darker, more ominous, less right.

Because now I know I'm dying.

And this blood is quickening my death.

This blood is my enemy.

I take up the scissors again, that wounding instrument, and slowly slice

another layer of skin from the other finger.

Bloodletting.

Doctors used to believe that a disease was caused by bad blood, and that

you had to drain out the bad blood to let the good blood assume

dominance and heal the person.

They would use leeches.

I guess scissors work good enough for me.

Another bright spot of this bad blood appears, running hot down my

finger, faster, escaping before it the cells can trap it, clot it.

I squeeze my finger tightly, making the tip white and pasty, and the cut

a river of blood.

"Dana!"

My head snaps up, seeing a looming presence that reminds me all too much

of my father.

Mulder takes my fingers in his hands, ripping the scissors from my

bloody grasp.

"What the hell are you doing?" he screams, fear in his eyes.

I stare at him. I have a right to be doing this if I want to. It's my

body. My body revolting against me. I can revolt against it.

"Why are you cutting yourself, Scully? Why are you doing this?"

The fear in his voice is choking, and makes me sad for him. It almost

sounds like he has done the same to himself and knows the pain and the

hopelessness, and is hurt that I might feel that.

"I - I just wanted to see . . . . see if I could . . . "

"No! No. Scully don't do this, please......"

I shake my head. "It was an accident. The left finger....I was cutting

out those-"

"Please, Dana, please. Don't do this. Bleeding isn't going to get rid of

the cancer . . . "

I draw away, trembling a little.

How does he know exactly what I am thinking sometimes?

How does he know that I was imagining that?

"Dana?" he whispers, putting a hand to my face.

I nod silently.

But my blood is so . . . so hypocritical. Looking all pure and healthy

and red, but being in actuality a dark messenger of my death.

It tells me of my death in the cancer coursing through it.

It reminds me of my death in the silent nosebleeds, corrupting my image,

hurting Mulder.

"Dana..." He is anguished, frightful.

"I know." I say softly, not looking at him.

He hugs me hard, so that my body is crushed and my breath taken.

Then he takes my hands and kisses them, right on the cut, stinging the

one I inflicted on myself. It will be raw for awhile, it may even scar

since I stripped the skin right off.

His mouth comes away red, bloodstained.

I quake a bit, thinking of vampires . . . of satanic rituals and death.

But most of all, what I just did to myself, thinking crazy things about

leeches and bloodletting.

I'm a doctor . . . .

He sees this look of horror on my face and hugs me, gentler this time,

and says, "Let's clean up your fingers, Scully."

No more Dana.

Danger's past.

"Mulder . . . I'm going to go home." I say and look away from him,

suddenly ashamed.

"No......Dana, let me help you. Please?"

Dana again. Does he think I'll hurt myself again?

Well, maybe it'd be a good idea to keep him around.

I just might.

"I'm going home. You can come with me."

He doesn't even hesitate, but takes the less hurt of my two hands and

leads me to the door.

As we go to leave, he turns and pulls me to him, so that my body is

flush against his. I sigh and melt into him, needing some strength.

He kisses the top of my head, then holds my face and kisses my forehead.

Just as that night in Allentown, I wish ferverently he would go on down.

Kiss my lips.

I sigh as he pulls away and draws me to the door.

This is life now.

Wishing for a kiss and bleeding to death, whether that's on my

fingertip, or in my heart.

I must have bad blood.

end

adios

RocketMan

what do you think? dark?

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully do not belong to me. They belong to CC,

1013, and Fox. No infringement is intended. And if you sue me all you

will get is a check for sixteen dollars because I just got paid for

tutoring. =-)

Rating: PG-13 ~ this is dark~.

Conetent Warning: UST, V, Scully and Mulder A, self mutilation is the

topic here.

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ FASCINATION 1 THEN YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND

He won't leave my side.

I told him he could stay over out of this odd sense of fear, but now he

won't leave me alone.

I am fixing dinner, and here he is.

I am trying to get a shower and he's following me into the bathroom.

Only a cold look of unappreciation made him stop.

I hate this.

I'm going to tell him to go home.

I'm not going to hurt myself.

Not anymore, that is.

I walk to the couch and sit down beside him, neglecting the towel I left

in the floor of my bedroom and trying not to think of how bad it will

smell once I actually hang it up.

I have more important things to think about.

"Mulder, I'll be all right now. You can go home and sleep. Okay?"

He frowns.

<Oh, come on, Mulder! I'm an adult! I won't kill myself alone for a

night!>

"Scully . . . I don't think it's a good idea."

"Look, Mulder. I'll call you if I need anything, all right?"

"But Scully-"

"Mulder! I'm just tired, all right. I'm going right to bed and sleeping,

so don't worry."

"But what if . . . I mean . . . if you . . ." his voice slows at my

look.

"Mulder. No offense. But I can take care of myself. I don't need you

hanging at my side."

His eyes recoil and I mentally slapp myself.

He is only trying to protect me.

<I don't need protection!>

He stands and hastily gets his briefcase and other work things, making

the fastest retreat possible.

I feel good for getting rid of him.

He nods at me and opens the door.

When he turns and looks at me with those eyes of his that are so

infintely sorrowful, I feel bad.

"Scully . . . Call me if you need anything. Please."

His plea is so honest, so incredibly sad, that I want to say never mind,

come back inside.

But I don't.

I need some solitude.

Some time to think.

"I will. I promise."

He seems to be soothed by this, externally at least.

But inside, his eyes still show me he is at war.

He leaves anyway, probably wishing I would call him back and hating

himself because he's too cowardly to stay and force it.

I don't think he's a coward for leaving.

I think he's brave.

He goes home not knowing if I will do it again, not knowing what will

happen if he can't be beside me.

He doesn't know.

And not knowing for anyone is a scary thing.

But I won't make him wish he had been here.

I won't do that again.

I'm okay, really.

Why did I make that other cut?

I look to my fingers, each bandaged innocently, each tightly cutting the

circulation.

One is innocent, the other is guilty.

The one shows my own hatred of this disease I have, one shows the fear I

have about it.

It shows that I have no control.

I have no control.

That is my fear.

That is fear.

I no longer have control over my own body.

It's in rebellion against me.

It prevails against me.

<This is my Body!>

Out - out - Damn spot!

I don't want this.

I want control again.

I want it out of me forever.

I would do anything for a cure.

I am Not ready to Die!

I will Not Die!

I will save myself.

I will get rid of it.

It will shrivel up inside my blood, the cells will rot away and cease

functions.

I will vanquish it.

I will win the war!

Blood.

Falling down . . . sliding down . . . dripping down

my nose.

<NO>

I will NOT let it beat me

I can't let it beat me

I don't want to die!

I run to the bathroom and pull Kleenex from the box and wad it up,

applying it to the traitor.

This blood oozing down, staining my upper lip, herald of my death.

This blood.

My enemy.

I hate it.

It has to be wiped out.

I angrily swipe the tissue across my nose, the blood starts again and I

rejoice inside.

It is leaving, it is falling down and leaving.

It is the ine who is loosing.

It is retreating.

See how it runs?

Yes, run on down.

I let it slide down my neck, to stain my clothes, making a trek down my

skin, forging a path down the collar of my shirt, tickling down my

breasts.

This blood, my enemy, dripping freely.

It doesn't stop on its retreat until it has reached my belly button.

There it ceases flowing.

No!

Start again.

I want you out of me!

I will have control of my body.

"I will!"

I will be in control.

I will . . .

Oh God, what am I doing?

I'm not in control . . . I'm not on control of my own mind!

Stop this. Oh, God, stop this.

I wipe away the blood, strip away my shirt and run warm water over a

washcloth to get at the blood down my chest.

My hands shake.

My eyes are watering.

I can't even focus on doing this one little thing.

I can't make my hand stop shaking.

I can't make myself stop crying.

I'm not in control.

My life is this tilting spinning carousel that won't stop and let me

off.

I'm not in control of it and it has complete control of me.

Oh, God, Stop!

Stop shaking, stop freaking out, stop !

Stop !

Stop !

I run to the bedroom, digging madly through my drawers, looking for

another shirt, looking for my sanity.

I can't even see, I'm so out of control.

I need Mulder.

I never should have made him leave.

I'm unstable, out of control.

At least I don't have to think when he's here.

I don't have to remember how to be me.

I just am, when he's around.

The phone,

Where is it?

I need his voice, of only that.

Here's the phone, and his number, what's his number.

God help me!

Oh, his number.

Start dialing it'll come back to you.

A ring.

A ring.

A voice.

"Mulder?"

Was that really me?

"Scully? You called the cell phone!"

"Mulder."

"I'm coming over. Right now. I'm still on the freeway. I'll get off at

this exit and turn around."

"Thanks."

I whisper and slump to the floor.

He finds me that way, slumped, the phone still in my hands, asleep.

I wake at his touch and ignore the sorrow in his eyes, the failure.

He picks me up, ignoring himself, that I have no shirt on, just a bra,

and some boxers, and settles me on the bed, stroking my hair.

"Why am I doing this to myself?"

His face looks pained, his eyes dull.

"I don't know why Scully. But I understand. I understand."

Has he done this before?

Mulder?

"Mulder, I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

He smiles, genuinely. "Good. It means it hasn't taken hold of you."

"I hope not." I say and close my eyes.

"I'll stay tongiht, all right?"

"Thanks. Maybe tomorrow, too?"

My eyes are still closed but I can feel his shock.

"Yeah, tomorrow, too." he says then pulls the sheets up around me.

He leans down and kisses my forehead, his lips barely brushing my skin.

I move, just slightly and kiss his cheek.

He sits up and keeps his hand on my stomach, his thumb rubbing it

softly.

He doesn't leave.

I sigh and fall asleep.

I really am out of control.

I kissed Mulder back.

end

adios

RocketMan

Flowers Of Ophelia

Date sent: Tue, 10 Feb 1998 22:06:50 -0500 (EST)

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

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

infringement is intended and no offense is meant to be taken.

Rating: Very Angsty

Notes: To understand here is some background: Violets are the symbol of

faithfulness, rue the symbol of repentance, and daisy the symbol of

concealing one's real motives.

in three chapters

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter One: Daisy

"There's rosemary, that's for rememberance. Pray you, love, remember.

And there is pansies, that's for thoughts . . . O, you must wear your

rue with difference. There's a daisy. I would give you some violets, but

they withered all when my father died."

--Ophelia: Act IV, scene v: "Hamlet"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That hurt more than I'd like to admit.

Too much to even think about at the moment.

His eyes were completely dead as he sat there and told me to my face

that I was not needed in his world. Not needed by him or his search or

his truth. He told me straight to my face and then left me here.

The bench is too cold for a wonderful warm day like this. Too cold for

the bitterness leeching into my skin and staining a soul grown

world-weary. I can't get my mind around his words, his voice, his dead,

dead eyes.

'I don't need you here anymore Scully.'

Those were the consonants and vowels of my destruction, the nouns and

verbs of my release and yet, here I am, sitting on a cold bench and

marveling at the ludicricy of it.

I mean . . . yeah right.

Mulder doesn't need me just like he doesn't need air and conspiracies.

But he told me and then he asked me to leave before he got too caught up

in petty things like fights and worries and attachments.

I shiver and feel the madness descend like a swarm of small pox carrying

bees, intent on their deadly mission.

Only, these scars and vacinations aren't going to get me through the

disease of this.

Mulder....Mulder what's going on?

~~~~

"Agent Mulder suggested this, Agent Scully?"

I swallow hard and nod, not trusting the slight quivering that runs all

over my body to keep in check if I start speaking.

Amazingly, Skinner says nothing. Nothing. I had expected a frown, a

promise to talk to Mulder, a threat or curse issued from this formidable

man that reminds me so much of my father.

He simply signs my execution and hands it back.

"But-"

"You're dismissed Agent Scully."

I stare at him, uncomprehending what has just happened.

I am out of the X-Files.

Out.

~~~~

I shiver and run faster, harder through the course I made a while ago

when I thought I needed to be in better shape for running after fleeing

suspects.

I don't need that now.

But I work out anyway, trying to keep the threatening haze of pain and

hurt from my scattered mind. I can feel it just on the edges, taunting

me with a kind of eternal escape - despair.

I feel like I've been discarded, royally screwed over by the Oxford grad

with the crazy theories.

I believed in you, Mulder! I believed in you! Why now....why now?

I just got better, I just came back to you......why now?

I run harder, pound my feet into the pavement, slam my body into the

cold wind rising from the Potomac and shove my hands angrily through my

hair to keep it from falling in my face.

The pony tail was hasty today; I was too worked up to do it properly and

now I'm paying for it.

I'm paying for allowing Mulder's search to mean something to me. For

allowing Mulder to mean something to me.

I scream and run harder, faster, angrier, madder, farther.

Each step I slam my shoe into is Mulder's face, each crack I crush is

Mulder's words, each image that greets my glare is Mulder's cold, dead,

fish eyes.

I hate him. I hate him.

Never Again. Never Again.

~~~~

"Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! O heavens, is't possible a young

maid's wits Should be as mortal as an old man's life?"

--Laertes: Act IV scene v: "Hamlet"

~~~~

"Dr. Scully, would you . . .?"

"Sure, give me a moment?" I say softly to the girl who has asked for my

opinion so many times I wonder if she cheated her way through med school

and now has no idea what to do.

She nods and walks out of the office.

I bite the inside of my cheek and look around at the clearly lit, open

spaced office that has my name on the door and my desk in it's confines.

It's no match for the dank, cramped basement office I had once shared

with a man I had also once shared my life with.

He hasn't called.

It's been two months and he hasn't called.

It's my birthday.

Oh, God, why did I lose him? *How* did I lose him? Why was it suddenly

so important that I not have any connection with him whatsoever?

I mean, I could possibly understand if he ended up taking the deal or

something similiar, but he didn't. I would have been just as upset in

the beginning, but I would have at least found it rational.

Being without him is like aching every day and not being able to take

Tylenol to clear away the cobwebs.

"Dr. Scully?"

"Yeah, Shelly, I'm coming."

"No, this is some thing different. There's someone here to see you."

My heart surges like I've suddenly been shocked back to life with the ER

paddles.

Clear.

Mulder.

It has to be him. It's my birthday, it's got to be him....

I stand hurriedly and sprint to the hallway, running almost and hating

that I would fall so easily back into that life.

It is not him.

"Hey Dana!"

"Bill."

"Happy Birthday!"

"Yeah. . ."

Oh, God, no, please. I can't have this now. I can't. I can't.

"Bill, go away."

"Dana!"

"Leave me alone."

"Mom told me you were pretty upset and I-"

"Came to say 'I was right'? Well, you were. Mulder reemed me. He screwed

me over and then casually dismissed me. Is that what you wanted to

hear?!"

I am probably hysterical, but I don't care. Mulder left and my brother

is coming to rub it in my face.

"Dana, you're crazy! What's wrong with you?"

"My fu-" I stop, sigh, take a deep breath. "Nothing."

"Dana, this isn't some kind of game. You're so messed up right now that

you can't even speak nicely to Mom on the phone. She says she tries to

call and you tell her off!"

"Like I'm doing to you? Yeah. Now leave before I get security to do it

for you."

"Dana Katherine Sc-"

"YOU are NOT my father, William Scully. You may have his name, but at

least he understood me!"

"Just like you said you understood Mulder?"

I slapped him.

I just now realize I've done it. I have just slapped him right across

the face. In Mulder's defense.

"You're still taking up for him, Dana. Still his. It's sickening to see

my little sister, my strong, stubborn little sister hanging on the

coattails of a man who has clearly shaken her off and thrown her in the

dirt."

"You leave me alone. You leave me alone."

"Go home, sissy, and take a hard look at your drawn, pale, cancer face

and tell me again."

"I don't have to. Leave me alone."

He shakes his head and then tenses his jaw. His eyes are the same cold I

saw in Mulder's. He leaves without another word.

I need to go home.

~~~~

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes, this is she."

"We have a Bill Scully here who says you're his sister?"

"Uh....yeah?"

"Could you come pick him up, Agent Scully?"

"Where?"

"Hoover Building, ma'am."

"Why? What happened?"

"He . . . he attacked another agent."

Oh....screw it. "Yeah, I'm on my way."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter Two: Rue

"A sister driven into desp'rate terms, Whose worth, if praises may go

back again, Stood challenger on mount of all the age For her

perfections. But my revenge will come."

--Laertes: Act IV, scene vii: "Hamlet"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"He deserved it, Dana. You should be glad I creamed him."

"Bill, shut up."

"Why? I socked him one and he looked all horrifed and then I sucker

punched him. I held back though."

"What? Should I say thank you, you idiot? You just beat-up my partner!"

"He's not your partner."

I feel cold all over and I think I'm going to throw up.

"Didn't Mom teach you not to fight?"

"Didn't Mom teach you not to kill another man?"

"That's not fair Bill. Line of duty."

"Then that's what you need to call this."

"Line of duty?" I snort and peer into the rearview mirror at the car

following us discreetly. Probably an agent sent to make sure Bill

doesn't try to attack any other agents.

"Yes. I'm your older brother. It's my job."

"I don't recall ever signing an employment contract for that one."

"Oh, shut up, Dana. Admit it. You're glad I beat him down."

I shake my head and pull into his motel, letting him make it to his room

without me. I don't need this now.

"I'm not sorry for what I did, Dana." he says, looking me straight in

the eye with a dead, cold, Mulder look.

"I know you're not. And that's what scares me."

I drive off.

The unmarked car is still behind me.

XXXXXXXXXX

Chapter Three: Violets

"I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers Could not with all their

quantity of love Make up my sum."

--Hamlet: Act V, scene i: "Hamlet"

XXXXXXXXXX

I stop pacing and sink exhausted into the chair, knowing that if Mulder

hadn't hated me before, he certainly does now. I hope he doesn't think I

asked Bill to do that....

A knock comes and I ignore it. The only person knocking would be Mom or

Bill or a neighbor. No one I want to talk to.

I curl up in the chair and ignore the knock, ignore the hard beating of

my ripped up heart.

I close my eyes and let a sob escape softly, but only one. I will not

cry over Mulder. It was his decision and I must deal with it.

Obviously our work, our partnership meant absolutely nothing.

I will have to simply make it mean nothing to me too.

I freeze as the door slips open and I hear footsteps.

I don't have a gun anymore. I don't have a gun . . . I knew I should

have applied for one . . . I knew I should have.

Creeping feet inch to me and I wonder if I can take the person by

surprise.

My eyes are closed and as relaxed as I can get them while my heart

crashes around in my chest.

I feel the presence and it's a *big* man, towering over me, leaning

right over me, breathing on me.

I shiver involuntarily and hope he has not seen it. As soon as he leaves

I will simply sneak out . . . run like hell.

"I'm so sorry . . ."

It's an agonized whisper of defeat and good intentions.

It's Mulder.

My eyes pop open and I stare at him, he stares right back.

I let my eyes go cold.

I will not let my heart be sucked back into the black hole of him.

"Scully...."

"Get the hell out of my house."

"Scully. I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep doing it. I thought I could,

but I need to know you know . . ."

"Leave now." I say and scramble up from my very vulnerable position.

"You have to let me explain."

"I don't have to let you do anything."

"Please, oh, Scully, please."

I bite fiercely into my lip and shake my head, but he can see I've

already been sucked right down into the depths of the darkness.

He crushes me to him and holds on so tightly I can't even breathe, but I

don't care, because I think maybe he means it this time.

I pull away, shaking. "Please, please don't do this unless it's real. I

can't do it again. I can't."

His entire body seems to collapse and he lets out a sort of keeing that

makes my body feel cold everywhere.

"I didn't want to. I had to. I didn't want to cut you off, I didn't want

to even let you out of my sight."

"Tell me what happened. Tell me why you hated me."

"I didn't. I don't. I had to."

"Stop it! Tell me why I had to hurt for nothing!"

His hands drop and his eyes cast about on the floor for an anchor.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt

truth to be a liar; But never doubt my love."

I blink. "What?"

"Hamlet. Hamlet. Oh, Scully, I didn't mean for this to happen. I had to

get you away for awhile, safe for awhile. Skinner agreed. Skinner set

this up for us. They were after you, after us. Both of us. They

threatened things. I had to make it seem like I was agreeing. I wanted

to tell you but I was afraid it'd get us both killed."

"Mulder!" I am so incredibly fed up with his stupid protective role, the

sentiment echoed in his words, his actions, all intended to leave me out

of it.

"Scully. Please, please. When your brother came, I realized. He said I

had hurt you, that I didn't deserve to have you . . . have you love me

like this. I don't. I don't deserve this at all. But I need it anyway. I

need you."

"Then why did you tell me you didn't?"

Mentioning my brother's altercation took the steam from my fire.

"I had to get you away."

"Mulder, you could have come to me, explained before hurting me what you

had to do. I might not have agreed, but at least it wouldn't be like

this."

I shake my head and sigh. "You and your perceived threats..."

"I'm sorry." he says and it is very soft and it catches me and slaps me.

He's back and I'm driving him away.

"I - I'm sorry, Scully." He says it again and reaches out to me.

"We'll get through this together, Mulder. Not apart, not ever apart. I

thought you had learned that by now."

He reaches out further, grabbing me.

I let him.

"I forgive you, Mulder."

He gathers me up like a child picking flowers to give to his mother and

I stay still, allowing my embrace to perfume his restored faith.

end

adios

RM

Freedom, Equality, Order

Date: Mon, 01 Sep 1997 17:46:54 +0000

Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, CancerMan, and Mr. X belong to the creative

genius of Chris Carter.

Rating: S, Mulder-Angst, X-File (somewhat)

Conspiracy Related.

Author's Notes: I wrote this because of the heavy studying I'm doing for

my Advanced US Government class. It is a conversation between Mulder and

Mr. X on the validity of the Consortium, along with the correctness of

their practices. Hopefully you will like it, and please write me even if

you didn't. This is a major deviation from what I ususally write. I

never like it when Mulder or Scully aren't USTy or something along those

lines, or even when the others are introduced, i.e. CancerMan, etc.

So tell me if you liked (disliked) this please.

Freedom, Equality, Order (1/1)

"I have a *right* to know!" Mulder hissed at the man standing in the

shadows.

"Mr. Mulder, you have no rights." The black man stressed with scorn

'rights' and tossed it away as trivial matters.

"The United States Constitution guarantees my rights!"

Mr. X scowled at him with the fury of a wiser man trying to lead a

blind, fumbling intellectual down the path of reality.

"Don't you understand, Mulder? The Consortium isn't limited to the

documents that have been so carefully perserved by the people. The

Consortium doled out these 'rights' and can take them away whenever they

choose."

"They can do no such thing!" Mulder said, for once ready to fight on

behalf of the Constitution. "It's preserved by the people, the people

decide what rights are, and which have to be sacrificed."

"And you think that every person living in the United States is

accurately represented? You are truly naive Mr. Mulder."

"Of course they are. They elect their representatives."

"Mulder, if They wanted a person in a position of power, he'd be there.

If they didn't, he'd be gone. Who do you think those elected

representatives are? Ignorant country folk? Highly unlikely Mr. Mulder."

"Then they should be voted out of office. The people have a right to

know that their elected government is screwing them over."

"So eloquent as always." Mr. X said snidely, but with confidence. "Which

of the principles the country was founded on is most important to you,

Mulder? Freedom, equality, or order? You can't have them all."

"We have a balance of each. For two hundred years we've had a balance of

each."

Mr. X snorted and laughed in his face. "You are naive Mulder. Freedom is

denied every second of every day and the people are giving up their

freedoms faster than you could possibly imagine. They trade freedom for

order, Mr. Mulder, and you can do nothing about it but refuse to trade

in yours."

Mulder paled and shook slightly. "And if enough people trade in their

freedom?"

Mr. X's wide midnight face loomed out of the darkness at him, his eyes

were twin moons in the sky of his face.

"Well, majority rules."

Silence.

Fear came across him in rippling waves, riding on the crest of panic and

disgust.

"But if they knew what happened when they traded in their freedom, if

they only knew...."

Mulder's plaintive cry was lost in the swirling abyss of destiny. Order

had become predominant over freedom. The people wanted safety, security,

and happiness. They didn't want to know about the murder, the mischief,

the mayhem that their denial caused.

Equality was fast becoming indeterminable.

Mulder sank to his knees and cradled his head.

"So, then, why are you helping me? What point is any of this?"

"Mulder, these people have become corrupt in their power, in their own

beliefs. The Consortium was established by our *founding fathers.* Do

you understand that? Jefferson, Adams, Washington, Ben Franklin. They

decided that in order to keep every aspect of those rights certain

groups had to be instituted to provide them. It just so happened that

the 'Consortium' grew larger, more powerful than others and took over.

They were the ones that 'provide for the common defence' as per the

Constitution's orders. Their ideas of defense have become wild,

extraneous and dangerous. Someone must stop them."

Mulder shook his head. "I can't do it. One person stopping a two hundred

year old institution? That's equivilant to overthrowing the government."

"Checks and balances Mr. Mulder. You are their check. Their balance.

Your continuing exposure keeps them from going to extremes. You must be

kept alive, Mulder. And some of them realize this. There are so many

subplots within the larger whole that no one is completely loyal to

anyone else. That's why you're not dead. They scheme, rearrange, let you

narrowly escape. It's how they keep themselves in check."

"How can I be any good?" Mulder said, feeling as if his entire world had

coming crashing down around him.

"Focus. Reminds them that they aren't It. They have to answer to

someone. They have to answer to the people. And even though more and

more of the majority are waiving their rights, the Constitution protects

the minority too. As long as there is opposition, they can't be fully

operable."

Mr. X stared at him long and hard, understanding the ramifications of

his words and the potential effect they would have on Mulder.

"Don't become a Player, Mulder. Don't. When you do, you waive your

rights. You say, 'I'm willing to play by your rules.' And you become

another part of them."

Mulder stood and shook off the craziness of what he was hearing.

"No, you're wrong. I won't believe that. There are aliens and deaths and

military things involved with the people I'm chasing after. They subvert

the law, not uphold it. You're wrong."

And Mulder turned his back and walked away.

Mr. X smiled. He had hoped Mulder would think that way.

It guaranteed that he wouldn't become a Player.

If he didn't beleive, he couldn't ever become a part of the Game.

And above all else, he couldn't let Mulder in on the Game.

end

how about it?

stick to what I know, huh?

Adios

RocketMan