TITLE: Never Is A Promise AUTHOR: Vanessa Nichols EMAIL ADDRESS: VNich...@NewellPalmer.Com.Au (Please specify that you are replying to my story, and which story in the subject, otherwise it might be awhile before I get to read it - Thanx) DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: I do not mind where this goes. You can put it on your archive or send it to the moon, just tell me first! Or even afterwards, but PLEASE tell me. Please archive at Gossamer. DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, FOX and 20C. No infringement is intended. The story is mine. The lyrics are from the song “Never Is A Promise” by Fiona Apple. No infringement intended there either. SPOILER WARNING: Up to and including Elegy. This is a post Elegy piece. A lot of episode mentions in here especially Memento Mori and other cancer and myth-arc episodes. RATING: NC-17 / R. CONTENT WARNING: This is not a nice piece. Angst, MSS (Mulder Scully Sex ), Coarse Language, Violence (Level 2-3). CLASSIFICATION: S, A, MSS. (Please see Content warning for more information). SUMMARY: At the end of the episode, Scully and Mulder reach a breaking point in their relationship... FIRST NOTE: This is not a pretty story. In fact, it’s absolutely, downright NASTY. I must stress that if you are under the age of 18, do not like violence or sex or a mixture of the two - BACK OUT NOW. THIS IS NOT A STORY FOR YOU. QUICK NOTE: This story was originally written late last year when the episode was first shown here in Australia. And typically I’m a few months late in getting it posted. Oops. SIDE NOTE: See end of story. DEDICATIONS: To Jenn, my cyber-buddy; Nicole, my fan :>; Kristy, my realworld friend, and my mother - who taught me most of the bad words in this piece ;> (thanks mom!). Talk to me at... oh, sorry, story first... ~x~x~x~x~x~ Never Is A Promise By Vanessa Nichols VNich...@NewellPalmer.Com.Au Ó Copyright Vanessa Nichols; November 1997 ~x~x~x~x~x~ The tears came suddenly, though not entirely unexpectedly. They had been waiting, after all, behind her eyes, waiting until she was out of his sight, and as soon as she had been, down they fell. Trickling in tiny streams of salty liquid down her cheeks, her breathing ragged, sobs rising up... only to stick in her throat as she caught sight of Harold. Harold Spuller. Deceased Harold Spuller. Sitting in her car. Looking at her. DEAD Harold Spuller. The gasp worked its way free, clawing through her emotion- blocked throat, bickering with her caught sobs, until it reached her mouth and expelled itself in a rush of air. Horror, sadness, bitterness, vulnerability... all these emotions and more warred for the upmost position on her face, but in the end, it was a mixture of them all that resided for all to see. With shaking hands, and once again watering eyes, she reached forward and started the car. The steering wheel vibrated beneath her fingers and she clenched them tightly around it till her knuckles went white and the shaking subsided slightly. Deep breaths. Deep cleansing breaths. In. Out. In. Out. The cars wheel’s squealed as she hit the accelerator and she almost stopped from the shock of it. But something inside rejoiced at the abandonment of rules, and she turned the wheel sharply at the next corner, part of her thrilled at the noise the car made as it skidded around, part of her horrified at the dangerous way she was driving. She made it home in record time, having stopped only for red lights, careening through green ones, speeding up for the amber’s. Driving at ten, maybe fifteen or twenty miles above the limit the entire way. Screeching around corners, ignoring stop and give way signs. Nobody had stopped her. Nobody had cared. She sat in the car for a long time after she had parked it outside her apartment building. A long time. Though not entirely willingly. No matter what she thought or tried, her hands didn’t seem to want to let go of the wheel. The knuckles were still white, her bones aching from the grip. She knew she’d have bruises on her palms. “Goddamit!” she swore violently and with a rush of adrenalin and anger, ripped her hands from the wheel. A nail broke, and the steering wheel shook for a moment from the force. Quickly she got out of the car, grabbing her medical bag and briefcase from the seat. The door was slammed shut, the door locked so hard that the key would probably bend the next time she had to use it. Energy flowed through her, filling her, healing her, rejuvenating her tired, ill body. There was a bounce in her step as she walked, energy driven. Anger driven. So angry. So very, very angry. She wanted to yell. She wanted to scream. She wanted to kill... anybody... somebody... she wanted them to feel death, just like she was forced to live with it, everyday, it’s shadow mixing with hers until she could not see where she began and where death ended. She punched the numbers of the building code into the newish security system - installed, unsurprisingly enough, because of her - at the main entrance with considerable force and when the door didn’t open, she growled with anger, her hand hitting the metal frame of the glass door, causing it to rattle. Her hand ached. “Shit!” she shouted, uncaring as to who would hear. She tried again. Nine, two, five, eight, one, one, six. It opened this time, slowly, and she pushed her way inside, causing the door, on it’s automatic hinges, to protest and shudder. “Shut up!” she hissed at it, as she continued on to her apartment door. Her keys were clenched tightly in her hand, and it took nearly all her energy to pry her fingers open long enough to find the correct one and insert it into the lock. The lock turned way too easily, the lack of resistance inflaming her even further. “Goddamit All To Hell!” she screamed as she pushed her way into her apartment, slamming the door shut behind her with so much force that it thundered to a close, causing the windows and pictures to rattle. The apartment was as dark as she felt. “Hey, keep it down!” shouted a voice from somewhere in the building. Rage coursed through her, making her blind. “Fuck You!” she screamed at the general direction of the voice. A part of her was dying from her attitude. The lack of restraint, of politeness, of order. The rest of her, however, was rejoicing. Chaos, anger, fear, sadness, self- pity, violence. All and more were assailing her in vivid colour and she loved it. “Fuck you.” she whispered softly, her anger suddenly disappearing. She now felt weak and drained. Limp. Slightly dizzy. She stood in the middle of her lounge room, gazing around blankly. What do I do? she thought helplessly. Do I go and get some sleep? I’ve yet to rest tonight? Or the previous night for that matter, she added after a moment’s thought. Do I get ready for work? Do I do some work? A million possibilities as to what she could do assailed her like her previous adrenalin induced emotions had. Her head began to spin. Sit down. That’s what I’ve got to do. I need to sit down. A course of action was what had been needed, and with that simple thought and request, she found it. Moving almost robotically she made her way over to her lounge, shedding clothing and items as she went. Key. Coat. Briefcase. Medical Bag. Jacket. Gun. Shoes. Each hit the floor with its own distinctive noise. She sat down on the edge of the lounge almost gingerly. Feet and knees together, back straight, hands folded in her lap, head straight, eyes forward. All she needed now was for the photographer to ask everybody to smile and say ‘cheese’ and the class picture would be taken. Relax. Another course of action. One she could follows through. Well, at least, she thought as she stretched out on the lounge, her back against the wall of the couch, her arms holding a pillow to her chest, her feet burrowing under the others at the foot of the couch, I can try to obey. I can assume a relaxing position. Doesn’t mean I’ll actually relax though. Sleep. It wasn’t a course of action, it was a statement. After all she had been through in the past couple of days... in the past few months to tell the truth... sleep was relentless in its pursuit of a victim. And with her energy and adrenalin reserves currently exhausted... she was easy prey. And so she slept. ~x~x~x~x~x~ Black held her world in a deathgrip, colouring it dark. Monsters crept out of every corner and crevice, each stalking the sleeping woman, their prey. Their movements were silent, stealthlike. Their appearances horrid and terrifying. Their breaths rank and putrid, permeating the air. And it was to this black world that she woke, unexpectedly, but unfrightened. She lay on the couch, her eyes still closed. Listening to the faint breathing and movements of the monsters. Smelling their putridity. Seeing in the backs of her eyelids their scarred appearances. She felt them move closer, until they were almost standing over her. She could feel their breath, moist and foul, brushing against her face, stirring faint wisps of hair. She could feel their gazed, searching her features, examining her body. She felt a moist hand against the side of her face, the claws dragging lightly against her skin... ... and opened her eyes to view a silent and empty apartment, devoid of anything living bar her. She smiled. These night demons... she could control them. They came of their own will and hunger, but they left at her command. No, these night demons were nothing to be frightened of. She was used to them. They were her friends in a way. They comforted her. Made her aware that although she was dying by something out of her control, these she could still control. She still had control. She frowned. But there was also fear in her feelings when it came to these monsters. Fear that one day she wouldn’t be able to control them. Fear that one day they would become too powerful for her. Overcome her. Control her, as opposed to her controlling them. Fear that one day she would die to them. She heard a knock at her door, slight and tentative. She did not move. Her eyes darted to the clock readout on the VCR. Four oh nine am. She closed her eyes. Another knock came. Soft and inquisitive. Go away, she thought tiredly. Go away and leave me alone. I just want to be with my demons. They know me. They understand me. They tell me the truth. They listen to me. They protect me. They remind me that I am still alive, not that I am dying. She heard a soft clatter of metal and metal and then a click. Bastard, she thought. The door squeaked silently as it opened and soft footfalls signified a person entering the room. Leave, she thought, leave me alone. She heard the sound of metal on metal again, and the rustle of clothing. “Go away.” she said in a whisper, her voice far too loud in the silent room. “Scully?” his voice was concerned. “Go away Mulder.” she repeated. “Just go away.” “Scully...” She heard him move towards the light switch. “Leave it off.” she ordered. She heard him halt for a moment, and for a second she thought he might actually listen to her. Light flooded the room with a soft snick. Rage seared through her. She jumped up with seemingly boundless energy and was at the light switch in a flash. Angrily she hit it, obliterating the brightness. They stood facing each other in the dark, him surprised, her breathing heavily, her features livid. “How. DARE. You. Come Into. MY. Apartment. Without. Being. Invited. And. Then. Ignore. MY. Preferences!” she ground out through clenched teeth. “Now. GO. AWAY!” He took a step back and his legs bumped into a small table. It rocked alarmingly for a moment, and then resettled. Silence filled the apartment once more. “I’m sorry, Scully.” he said after a moment in what was meant to be a placating tone. “I didn’t mean to offend or ignore you.” She snorted. “Then why turn on the light?” she demanded. “Which part of ‘leave it off’ didn’t you understand?” She could see his features clearly in the waning moonlight and dawning sun. He looked helpless, unsure of himself and her. A part of her screamed with joy at the sight. “I... I thought that...” “Thought what Mulder? That I was lying? That when I said I wanted the light off, I really wanted it on? Is that what you thought? Or did you just ignore my words? Not caring what I wanted? Well? Which was it? Tell me, am I even close?” His mouth moved, open and close, but he was at a loss for words. She growled something unintelligible under her breath and turned away, moving back to the lounge. Her feet tripped on something and then tangled into another. As she fell she realised what they were. Her medical bag and jacket. Recognition came to late though and with a silent gasp she hit the ground, her temple coming into contact with the edge of the coffee table. She heard him call out. Desperation and concern in his tone. Darkness hovered and she felt her friends, her demons, move in closer, coming once more out of the woodwork. With a silent “No!”, she sent them fleeing back to where they came. A moan of pain escaped her lips as she began to push herself up. Something wet was trickling down the side of her face, originating from the point where her temple had connected with the sharp corner of the table. She felt his hands on her body, trying to help her up, and she pushed them away angrily. “Get away from me!” she growled. He backed away slightly. Gritting her teeth in a straight line she pushed herself up to a standing position with a start. The world tilted to a dizzying angle and for a moment she thought that she would fall or even faint. Her hand reached out to steady herself on something, anything. She felt cloth and firm, breathing muscle beneath her grip and started. She would not lean on him. She could not. With the last of her energy she pushed herself away from him... ... and welcomed unconscious as she fell to the floor. ~x~x~x~x~x~ Awareness came slowly. The dark shrouded her. She could hear breathing. My demons, she thought absently. Go away, she commanded to them, I want to be alone. Alone. No one else around, not even you, my demons, my friends. Not even you. Alone. But the breathing continued. With a small flash of insight she realised that no matter how strongly she commanded, this demon would not leave. She opened her eyes and found herself surprised. It was dark. Turning her head she looked through the dimness at Mulder. Her best friend, her partner, another of her demons. The renegade demon. The one she could not control. He stared back. She was lying on the floor, she realised a moment later, most likely where she had fallen. But she had barely been moved. He had left her there. No doubt he had run his hands over her body, her head, checking to see if she was alright. Her hand reached up and felt gingerly for the cut on her forehead. Instead of blood-sticky skin, she felt only the smoothness of a bandage. He had fixed her cut, but he hand not turned on the light, and he had not moved her, he had not touched her anymore then necessary by the looks of it. Exactly as she had asked. “It’s dark.” she said. He nodded. “I’m on the floor still.” He nodded again. He looked almost frightened. It was almost as if... almost as if he was frightened of HER. “You told me not to.” he whispered. “So I didn’t. I didn’t turn on the light. I didn’t touch you.” She touched her forehead again. “You bandaged my cut.” He now looked terrified. “It... you were bleeding... I’m sorry...” “Thank you,” she said, cutting him off. Nodding slightly. She closed her eyes for a moment. She had a headache. Her temple was throbbing. “Are you alright.” “I’m fine.” she answered automatically. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His features had darkened slightly, or so it seemed. “What?” she asked defensively. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Nothing.” he muttered and looked away. She felt her anger to him return full force. Here I am, she thought, lying one the floor, hurt, and he can’t even tell me what he’s thinking of feeling. “Oh that’s rich!” came a sarcastic voice. She looked up, wondering what he was talking about. “I never tell what I’m feeling?” Shit, she thought. I didn’t think I’d spoken that, I thought I only thought that. “You’re right Scully,” he said as he stood and moved away. “You are lying there, hurt.” Acid was in his tones, and bitterness in his voice. “But you’re the one who won’t say how you’re feeling. You NEVER do. You’re always fine. Everything I ask if always answered with an ‘I’m fine’. Occasionally you tack my name to the end of it, so at least I know you’re referring to me, ‘I’m fine Mulder’.” He was glaring at her, absolutely infuriated. It only aggravated her more. “Fuck. You.” she said succinctly, as with effort and slight pain from her head she pulled herself up to a standing position. “Not. Even. If. You. Asked. Nicely.” he bit back. ~x~x~x~x~x~ The End 1/2. ~x~x~x~x~x~ See disclaimer in part one. ~x~x~x~x~x~ She saw red. Blood red. She felt her demon and monster friends crowd in for a closer look at what was happening. Her breathing was fast, and occasionally the pull of air hurt. “Get. Out. Of. My. Apartment.” she said through clenched teeth. “Why?” he asked, taunting her now. “Why? she repeated. “Why? Because it’s my apartment. And my life. And right now I don’t want you in either. So get out!” His lips twisted awkwardly into part grimace, part smile. “And if I refuse?” he asked, taunting her still. An inarticulate scream edged it’s way past her clenched teeth. “Get out of my apartment Mulder.” she shouted. “Get out and stay out. I don’t want you here. So get out! Get out! Get out! Get out!” “Or what?” he questioned. “Or what!” she repeated, outraged now. “I’ll tell you what! I’ll call the goddamn fucking police and have you arrested for trespassing! Now get the fuck out of my life!” “I have a key, which you gave me. You are obviously hurt and being your partner I came to check on you. They wouldn’t arrest me!” Another scream of anguish was ripped from her throat. “Fine!” she shouted. “I’ll arrest you myself.” Mulder laughed. “You? Arrest me? Ha! Even if you did manage to somehow arrest me, and taking into consideration that I am at least a foot taller than you and that I wouldn’t be calmly holding out my hands, how stupid would you feel escorting your partner into the police station and telling them that you arrested me on the grounds that I was concerned for your welfare! Grow up Scully.” “Stupid? Grow up? How fucking dare you! You have no right! You hear me? No right to come into my apartment, uninvited, refuse to leave, and then insult me! You... you... you arrogant, self-centred, selfish BASTARD!” “Ooh... pretty strong words coming from such an innocent little Catholic girl.” he drawled. “Innocent?” she repeated sharply. “Innocent?” She shook her head. “No, I’m not innocent. You’ve made sure of that Mulder.” she told him bitterly. “You’ve made sure that innocence, and everything I believed in, was destroyed by your words of ‘truth’ and what your perceive them to be. So don’t you dare speak to me about innocence. I have none.” He glared at her. “You know full well what you were getting into when you joined me, you bitter little spy.” She returned the death glare as she tossed her head and gave a short bark of bitter laughter. “A spy?” she questioned. “You still think of me as a spy?” There was an incredulous tone to her angry voice. “Mulder, they may have sent me, they may have called me a spy, but I never came to SPY. I came to REPORT yes, but because that was what my FBI superior told me top do. Not because of any other organisation’s wishes, despite what you might think. And besides which, if I was a fucking little spy, then why have I been reprimanded as many times as you? Why were we separated several years back after Deep Throat’s demise? Why was I fucking ABDUCTED and experimented on? Why was I given implants and cancer? If I was a spy, and in leagues with the men who have done this to me, and so much more, then why did it happen at all?” Her voice rose again. “So don’t you fucking call me a spy! Because if you have any brains at all, and any common sense left, you’d know that I was never a spy!” Mulder shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. All that shit doesn’t mean you’re not a spy.” he said. “How can you FUCKING say that?” she demanded. He shrugged again. “Maybe you didn’t sleep with enough of them?” he hissed suggestively. “How the hell should I know?” “You prick!” she snarled back. “After all that I have done and given up for you, how can you say that to me, and think that of me? How? I have up my sister for your search for yours. I’ve gone to jail for you. I’ve bled for you. I’ve argued for you. I’ve searched for you, disobeyed and lied to my superiors for you. I’ve done everything I could fucking do for you! I’ve given up any chance of a normal life for you, and you alone, and you say this!” she screamed at him. “And now I’m DYING for your fucking cause, and your fucking sister who’s probably lying in some grave, and all you can say and suggest is that I am a spy and that I deserve all this! You BASTARD!” “Leave Samantha out of this!” he growled, his eyes narrowing. “But then, you always have, haven’t you? You say that you’ve given up everything for me and my search for her and for the truth, but you never really believed in it, did you? It was always just something for you to do. You never BELIEVED in it. So yes, in a way, I guess I do believe that you deserve what you’re getting.” “Of course I believed!” she screamed back. “Maybe not in the same way as you, but I believed! I believed in the CAUSE and the SEARCH for truth. I believed in YOU!” He snorted. “How can I believe that?” he demanded. “How? Even now you don’t believe in me enough to talk to me! You never tell me anything! I ask if you’re alright and all I get is that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit.” “You want to know what I’m feeling?” she bit out. “You want to know EXACTLY how I’m feeling? Fine. I feel like I’m dying, ok? Everytime I look in the mirror I see Death sitting over my shoulder, waiting for me. Everytime I see my shadow I see Death’s walking next to it, sometimes so close that they almost merge. Everytime I have a headache or a nosebleed or I go to bed feeling so tired that I can barely move, I wonder if this is it. If this is moment is my last. I feel like I’m dying and the fucked thing is, I AM. I AM DYING! I feel like shit and that is because I AM DYING! Is that what you want to hear when you ask me how I am feeling? Are you happy now?” He laughed bitterly. “Happy? I’m never happy you little bitch, and you know that. Why should that admission make me happy?” “I’m not a bitch.” she shouted angrily at him. “No?” he mocked. “Could have fooled me.” She nodded sharply, her face drawn tight. “Of course, how silly of me.” she drawled bitterly. “I sacrifice everything for you and all that makes me is a bitch and a spy. Jesus Mulder, anything else you want to call me? I’m stupid, a bitch, a spy, and I need to grow up.” She shook her head. “How about selfish, arrogant, bitter, unfeeling... should we put these to my name or leave them with yours where they are so obviously fitting?” “You barren little bitch...” he snarled. “Barren?” she repeated, cutting him off. “You leave my treatment’s effects out of this Mulder. It’s your fault, remember, that I had to have them in the first place, so leave that out of it!” He laughed. “Oh this has nothing to do with your treatments.” he shot out to her bitterly. “You were barren the moment they began testing you.” He took in the paling of her face, the way her hand hovered near her abdomen, and though he knew he was going to far now, he couldn’t stop. “Oh,” his voice oozed fake surprise. “Did I forget to tell you that the tube I recovered from the fertility clinic that night held the only ova left from your body. Removed from your body before the tests caused sterility. Oh Jesus Scully, I’m sorry.” He grinned nastily. “It must have slipped my mind.” She could find no words to reply. None. But actions could speak much louder, and if was that refrain that was running through her mind as she leaped at him, her fist connecting solidly with his jaw, the other deeply implanting itself into his abdomen. He fell backwards, his hands catching onto her waist, dragging her down with him as they fell in a messy tangle of limbs on the floor. Her hands came up immediately, looking to scratch and hit his face and he pulled his own hands up as quickly as possible to sustain them. “You little SLUT!” he muttered furiously, holding her hands and twisting sharply, and then rolling to the side so that she was now trapped under him as opposed to her being on top of him. “Get off me you PRICK!” she screamed. “Get the FUCK off me!” “You BITCH!” he replied, just as infuriated. “Would you FUCKING cut that out!” And even as he said that, her nails were reaching once more for skin exposed around his face and neck. “SHUT THE FUCK UP DOWN THERE!” came a voice from somewhere in the building and both Mulder and Scully paused long enough to shout in unison: “FUCK OFF!” Silence filled the room as they both turned and looked at each other, shock etching their features in the dim light. Shock at their behaviour, at the things they were saying... “Oh my God... Scully... I...” That was all he managed as she stretched up and smashed his lips to hers. For a moment he was too shocked to comprehend what was going on, but then the shock passed and he began returning the kiss and sharing in it. Their kisses were wild, untamed and with raw passion, tongues prodding and searching the other’s mouth, teeth gnashing against each other’s, lips melding and unmelding. Fast, furious, fiery. None to gently she bit at his lips, and felt him return the pain to her own. He let go of her hands and instead caught her head, holding it as still as possible so that he could plunder her mouth. Finding her arms free she wrapped them around his body, dragging her nails fiercely down his back, both of them determined to cause the other pain in what should have been a gentle seduction. She could feel his erection pressing against her. She could feel her breasts grow full and heavy, her nipples taut. They were both fully aroused, and his hands left her face on a downward sweep of her clothed skin, his lips following to taste and bite at her neck. Her nails made one more pass over his back before she tugged the white dress shirt from the waistband of his pants and slid her hands under the fabric, anxious to scar the flesh uninhibited by material. His hands stopped exploring only long enough to move and unbutton her shirt and bra as he pushed the material aside, freeing her breasts for his lips and teeth to devour. She let out a clenched hiss of pain as his teeth found her nipple and tugged at it, her nails digging firmly into his flesh at his shoulders in retaliation. Her demons moved in closer, their putrid breath wafting over her as she felt them watching this act of seduction, this act of violence. For a moment she considered banishing them away, but as Mulder’s hands continued to pinch at her heated skin, she mentally shrugged, and opened her mind to them. Enjoy, she whispered to them, enjoy. And as their aura of negativity began to fill her with strength she gasped with the power she felt. The power of life. Hurriedly she began to remove Mulder’s clothes, feeling him pause in his painful ministrations on her body to do the same to her clothes. Within moments they were naked, their heated bodies grating against each others as they sought the friction that only their skins could cause. She grasped his head and pulled him up to her, her lips and teeth melding to his, her mouth plundering his and he plundered hers. Wild erotica coursed through her as she raised her knee and rolled, pushing him onto his back and in one swift move, mounted him, drawing his masculinity deep within her aching centre. She gasped at the sensations as he filled her, momentarily lifting her head from his. Bracing herself with her hands on his shoulder, and her knees on the rough carpet beneath them she bent down and viciously kissed him again, her lower body rising slowly and then descending with slight speed as she felt him impale her once again. with one last bite of his lips and tongue, she arched away, her hips grinding against his as she rose and fell above him. His hands moved to grasp at her breasts, pulling and stroking them in urgency, pain and desire. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his thighs behind her, as her back arched and her head tilted back, her hair brushing her shoulders. Her nails dug deep into the skin on his thighs as she felt her body begin to tighten with ecstasy. Likewise his body also began to stiffen as his fingers dug in painfully at her breasts. With a gasp that was neither pain nor pleasure, but rather a mixture of the two, she came, her eyes closing as stars exploded against her eyelids. She felt him stiffen and then fill her completely as he came, his body twitching with the aftershocks, as did hers. Her head drooped forward and she looked at him through half-veiled eyes. He regarded her silently. With a smile that was both victorious and horrified she felt a headache begin to throb. As her demons left her, and with them all pretences of her energy and strength, she felt a wetness upon her lip. Looking down she could see the drops of bright red blood falling to land on his chest, brilliant in the dawning sun from the window. As she looked up she saw Mulder’s shocked expression as he too, caught sight of the blood. Her head throbbing with pain, she fainted. ~x~x~x~x~x~ It was light when the soft music of her alarm clock awoke her. Stretching, she found herself clothed in one of her favourite night-shirts and in her bed. Glancing a look at the clock she rose and pulled on her bathrobe, padding quietly into the main room, her mind beginning to fill with images of all that had happened the previous night. Her clothes lay folded on the edge of the lounge, her coat and medical bag put away, her shows and briefcase near the edge of the coffee table. And on the floor lay a piece of paper, right on the spot where only hours before they had furiously and passionately coupled. Bending down she picked up the note, wincing as her head throbbed slightly still. Opening it, she stared at the simple wording. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I believe in you... I always have and I always will. That will never change. I promise. Please don’t stop believing in me. FM.” Crumpling the note to her breast she sank to the floor, her heart beating fast, her breathing shot and faint. Closing her eyes she began to cry, as the music from the bedroom slowly drifted into the room and floated over to caress her. “You’ll say you understand but you don’t understand You’ll say you’d never give up seeing eye to eye But never is a promise and you can’t afford to lie You’ll say don’t fear your dreams it’s easier then it seems You’ll say you’d never let me fall from hopes set high But never is a promise and you can’t afford to lie You’ll say you understand you’ll never understand I’ll say I’ll never wake up knowing how or why I don’t know what to believe in you don’t know who I am You’ll say I need appeasing when I start to cry But never is a promise and I’ll never need a lie” ~x~x~x~x~x~ The End 2/2 The End. SIDE NOTE: Elegy intrigued me, with the fact that Scully was seeing ghosts, or rather, her increasing mortality, her fears, Mulder’s concerns. All in all, one of my favourite episodes. But it was the conversation at the end that interested me: “I hope that’s the truth.” Would Scully lie to Mulder about her condition? That answer, I guess we’ll never know for sure. Just like in the Gethsemane, we’ll never know for sure whether or not Mulder knew about Scully’s cancer entering her blood stream (even though she said that she hadn’t told him to the committee). :> But I digress. I wanted to write a story which showed their breaking point. Where neither could continue the facade they had been employing. She was dying and although they both knew it, in their own ways, they were trying to ignore it. Elegy gave me the perfect opening for this story, with it’s end conversation, and Scully’s ‘sitings’. The song, Never Is A Promise, which I was listening to constantly at that time, also seemed be a perfect match. And lo and behold, this story was written. But enough chit chat. I hope you enjoyed this story -- and please don’t forget to tell me if you did or didn’t! Email to: VNich...@NewellPalmer.Com.Au All email’s replied. Feedback of any kind welcome... flames, flowers, cards, cheques... you know the deal! :> Thanks for reading, Vanessa.