This is a repost of a story I sent to the list about seven hours ago and I still haven't seen it show up. If y'all get it twice I apologize--it could very well be my mail server. I forgot to add the disclaimer the first time around so I guess I'll talk the talk.... Disclaimer: No, they're not mine. They belong to the King of Yuppie Morbidity, the production company that is 1013, and Fox (No, not *that* Fox). There. Happy now? Hi gang! Well, I've been waiting for the fanfic inspired by 'Momento Mori' to show up--just like all the rest of you have. If any other writers out there are like me, I have to guess that the lull has been caused by the sheer emotional depth of this episode. I know that it took me several days (and repeated viewings) before I felt I had anything in mind that would even begin to come close to MM. So here it is. I guess I should issue a Kleenex alert for this one. Feedback? Yes, please. :) But We Also Live by Lydia Bower Classification: Vignette, MSR, rated G Summary: Mulder's journal entry explores what happened after 'Momento Mori' ended; and his thoughts on those events. But We Also Live by Lydia Bower I gave you some time. I thought you needed it after sitting an all-night death watch over Penny Northern. You pulled away from me and started the long trip down to your room--walking the Scully walk: shoulders pulled back, head held high--as I rolled the thawed vial of your immortality between my fingers. I don't know what possessed me to put it in my pocket. Was it evidence or a momento--a part of you that had been taken and was now recovered? The ova were most certainly dead by now. But I knew that I would keep that vial, that it would come to rest in some dark corner of my iced-over freezer and catch my eye on occasion; reminding me of what you have lost that remains a secret from you. The time to tell you will come. But not now. Not yet. You are still too fragile, my valiant Scully. My body holds to the memory of you tucked up tightly against me, the sensation of your small frame under my hands, the way your head fits perfectly under my chin. Even there, in the midst of death and disease, after all you've been through and what has changed and is changing within you, you retain your unique essence. The smell of your warm skin has not changed. I buried my face in your hair and breathed in the scent of your life, not your death. I tasted the salty-sweet tang of your skin as I pressed my lips to your forehead. Your eyes as you gazed up at me spoke a precious statement of sadness and strength and something else. Love. I don't know how I must have looked to you. I only hope that my eyes mirrored yours. It is so easy to feel and yet so hard to say and to act upon. We try to quench our thirst for each other with tiny sips--we always have. But now I am parched, as I believe you to be. I also believe that we will find a way to save you--I must believe that. But time is fleeting. And people are so fragile. I begged a cup of coffee from one of the nurses and stood leaning against the wall, scalding my mouth as I chugged the hot liquid and then went back and silently held out the styrofoam cup for more. This one I sipped as I grabbed a chair and called to leave a voice mail for Skinner. I didn't expect him to pick up. Perhaps we share the curse of insomnia. I glanced at my watch and saw the hands creeping toward six. I wonder if I will ever again note the time and not connect it to your written words to me--that you have begun to feel time like a heartbeat; the seconds pumping away. I watched as two nurses disappeared into Penny Northern's room and came out minutes later; watched as her body was wheeled past me to begin what will be the end of her life's journey. It remained quiet on this floor; early morning stillness having not yet given way to the rush of later morning routines, and I was angered in a way I didn't understand by the nurses' haste to remove the reminder of death that is Penny Northern's body. Death will come to all of us--it is natural and normal and the one experience that all living things share. I reluctantly learned this from Melissa when you lay so close to death before, when the tethers that held you then were severed and you were set afloat to either return to me or not. I have never allowed myself to reflect much on how grateful I am that you came back to me. I think I will spend much more time reflecting now. You have once again chosen life; and though I was not physically there when your decision was made, I know now that you felt me close, as I could feel you--as I continue to feel you. Scully, the voice and spirit of you resides in me--it always has. But now I have brought it forth from the dark recesses of my heart where I far too often exiled it and have shoved it into the light; into it's proper place. It warms my heart and feeds my soul and I don't know how I will be able to survive without it. You, and all that you are, has become my truth. I walked to your room as the dawning light of the new day flooded the hallway and made me feel as though I were a dark angel--dressed as I was in black amidst all the brightness. A shadow figure cut from the somber cloth of too many broken dreams, and of nightmares come far too vividly to life. The contrast was sharpened when I paused in the doorway and saw you standing before the window, bathed in sunlight, clothed in white. I am darkness and you are light. No shadows remain between us, no shades of gray. All has become stark and stripped of ambiguities and is so very beautiful in its simplicity. I don't remember speaking to you then--at least not aloud. But you heard me just the same. You remained with your back to me as you reached and held out a hand to me, inviting me to share the sunrise with you. The joining of our hands lit a spark in me that flared and burned to once more strengthen the bond we share; a bond that has no explanation and needs none. "So beautiful," you whispered. "Yes," I replied, and smiled widely when you turned to discover that it was not the sunrise that I was admiring, but you. "I wish...I wish that Penny could have seen this one last time." My voice was quiet and gentle. "Maybe she is seeing it. Through you, Scully. You shared so much with her. I think a part of her is in you now." You slowly nodded and your voice broke only a little as you said "Yes. But she also took a part of me with her and now she's gone." I watched as a single tear welled up and slipped free, trailing down your cheek. How easy it was to lead you to the chair by the bed, your small hand warm in mine, and pull you into my lap. I cradled you and said the words that allowed you to give yourself over to the tears you so stubbornly tried to hold back. "Please let me help you through the pain. Let it go, Scully, just let it go." I tucked your head under my chin as before, felt it as you turned your face and buried it in the warmth of my chest. My arms held you tight as your hitched and ragged breathing finally gave way to the sobs that racked your body and cleansed your soul. I know that it was not only Penny you wept for then, but for yourself as well. For though your decision to fight this inner enemy had already been made, the grief remained. For yourself, for this unwanted war that we must now wage, for those you love and care for who will also shed tears for you. You have always been so strong, Scully, and always so careful not to worry anyone. But you must learn to accept the support and strength we now offer you--have always offered you. It is not your struggle alone; just as your life is not fully yours alone. We are bound by gossamer threads to those who love us and those whom we love. I think you are just beginning to realize this. That you let me hold you a second time--once in the hallway and then again in my lap--shows me that you are. I don't know how long we remained that way before your tears were spent. I only remember the voice of your eyes as you pulled slightly away and looked up at me. It was so natural, so easy, so right to take up where we had left off in the hallway. To cup your precious face in my hands and taste the salt of your tears as my lips captured them and made them my own. To finally let our mouths speak the silent language of our love. I tell myself that it was only a kiss, that it should have been a simple thing. But the memory of our mouths meeting for those few brief moments has shaken me to the core and continues to haunt me even now, hours later, as the darkness of this night envelops and cocoons me as I write this. Perhaps because it was the one seemingly insurmountable barrier that we'd not dared to question or analyze before. But its breaching was so effortless, Scully. And I find myself realizing that like so many of the walls we build in life to protect ourselves, they must come down in their own time and in their own way. I believe our time has come, Scully. With every beat of my heart and every fiber of my being, I believe this. You will go home tomorrow and soon after return to our office and our work. I look forward to that; but now, tonight, I cling stubbornly to the memory of this day. I don't know if you will ever read this. But if that day comes, I ask you to forgive me for the tears I only now surrender to--that I could not allow to fall even as I invited yours. That they now stain these pages and blur the words spoken from my heart is not an affront to you, nor an unwillingness to share them. They came unexpectedly and without thought. And for the first time in many years, I welcome them. They are a renewal and a pledge; to myself, to you. The simple fact I have come to know this day is that we all die. But we also live. Thank you, Scully, for helping me to know this. Thank you for loving me. THE END --------- End forwarded message ----------