TITLE: Além de AUTHOR: Moon EMAIL: MdmSpooky@aol.com CATAGORY: V, R, A KEYWORDS: MSR, Alternate Universe, *Character death* RATING: PG SPOILERS: Ascension, One Breath, Memento Mori, all the ones dealing with Scully's illness DISTRIBUTION: I will probably say yes if you ask, but please ask me first DISCLAIMER: The characters Dana Scully and Fox Mulder are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Twentieth Century FOX. Although neither character is mentioned by name in this piece, their identities are implied, although without intent of infringement. The story itself is mine, and no part of it should be reproduced without my express permission. FEEDBACK: Of course! Why else would I write it?Inflate my ego at: MdmSpooky@aol.com SUMMARY: He sleeps. ~~~~~~~ Além de by Moon ~~~~~~~ He is having another nightmare, the second one tonight. He hasn't been sleeping well; the dark circles under his sunken eyes would be telltale, if I didn't know it already. I am here, every night as he sleeps. I sit on the bed beside him, watching him writhe in the throes of the terror that his visions bring. Sometimes I lay next to him and put my arms around him, whispering in his ear, trying to soothe him, but usually I merely sit and watch. At times I can not stop the tears from coursing down my face, even when they burn like acid. The tears are one of the few emotional reactions I've retained, and the pain that accompanies them seems to make them that much more precious. He jerks violently, and I reach out, the motion automatic. For a moment, I think my touch has reached him, and his body is still. The seconds pass, however, and it becomes clear that the lull in his dream is not to last. His whimpers begin anew, increasing in volume and finally culminating in a sob that sounds vaguely like my name. The peak has passed. His breathing slows, and his muscles unclench, the knots smoothing out languidly. He slowly stretches out of a fetal position and resumes the form of the man that I have loved so. *** When the cancer returned, only I knew. No doctor told me, but I could feel it eating a hole through my skull. After my strength began to wane, and my appetite disappeared, he dragged me to a specialist who confirmed what I already knew. He stayed strong, stayed beside me every step of the way. It was he who drove me to the hospital, coughing up blood and screaming with pain. It was he who insisted that I continue the treatments, after I and even my family had given up. It was he who convinced me not to buy a wig, but to wear my battle scars proudly, as a testament to a life whose light even death could not extinguish. He *was* my life. It wasn't until my last hospital stay that I told him. The nurses left, the doctor left, my family left. I asked him to stay, to sit with me for a while. I told him then that I loved him. He stayed with me all night, layed beside me, held me. We didn't talk much, and we didn't sleep. In the morning he held my hand and told me that he loved me too. He made love to me in his kiss, in his eyes, in our hearts. I didn't see him cry again until the funeral. He didn't take his rightful place with my family, but stood alone at the back of the church. When everyone else had gone, he approached my body. I knew that he was memorizing my face, frozen forever in the smile that was reserved exclusively for him. He scattered my ashes on Skyland Mountain, where it had all begun. He climbed the tallest tree on the peak and hung my cross from its uppermost branch. From the ground he watched it sparkle in the afternoon sunlight as it twisted in the wind. We both turned away, neither of us wanting to see it when it fell. He resumed his work with a fury before unmatched, seeking to expose and destroy the men that had taken me from him. He accomplished his mission, and we both felt somewhat vindicated. Even then, though, the nightmares didn't stop. The weeks passed and became months. I was with him every night, but he couldn't feel me. I tried so many times to touch him, to wake him, to enter his dreams, but my efforts have been futile. *** His tremors have resumed. I crawl into his bed beside him and hold him as tightly as my ethereal arms will allow. We cry together in the darkness, each of us trying to hold on to something that cannot be touched. I will stay here. I will continue to haunt his sleep, and perhaps someday he will know. Perhaps he will feel my heart still beating within him, and remember. He will remember that I have always belonged to him, and him to me. He will realize that it is not the life but the soul that matters, and that our souls remain inextricably entwined. And he will know that in our next life we will be a rainbow. ~~~ All through the night I'll be watching over you And all through the night I'll be standing over you And through bad dreams I'll be right there, baby, Telling you everything's gonna be all right And when you cry I'll be right there Telling you you were never anything less than beautiful So don't you worry I'm your Angel standing by "Angel Standing By" by Jewel from "Pieces of You" ~~~ Finis. ~~~Moon (MdmSpooky@aol.com) https://members.tripod.com/~Ms_Spooky/index.html