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From: measi2@aol.com (Measi2) , Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative ,
Subject: Candles , Date: 11 Aug 1995 01:45:21 -0400
Hey everyone!
Well, here's my last contribution until school starts... nothing else is close
to being done (well, there's one that's done, but it's very bad and I'm gonna
revamp it....)
Before I start this one, though.. I'm gonna dedicate it
(didn't on the EMXC ' cause I forgot...) to Dulce (Sweetlifex), who has been
wonderfully supportive of me over the past couple months in fanfic... and Janice
(wildcard@shore.net), my roommate, who kicked me in the rear and told me to
listen to myself... =). I realize this is out of character for Scully... it was
never intended to be true-to-life... my mind is warped in that way. =). Comments
are welcome, but please nothing too harsh-this entire piece was written as a
self-healing for myself on a similar topic...
And so it begins...
enjoy!
Melissa
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Candles
by Melissa Kent
completed 7/5/95
Historian's Note: This takes place in approximately mid-May, 1995-a
month after the events in Anasazi, but was written before the premiere of the
third season, so please excuse any discrepencies with whatever happens in the
(as-of-posting) lack of conclusion... =)
Disclaimer: (everybody now...)
The X-Files and the characters of Dana Scully, Melissa Scully, and Fox Mulder
are the copyright of Chris Carter. My apologies to anyone who is offended by
either New Age/Pagan beliefs or out of character stories... I enjoy taking
things out on a limb, just to see how they go. I hope the readers will keep an
open mind and enjoy the ride... =)
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The yellow and blue flame steadily burned,
reaching toward the ceiling, but not quite able to extend itself two inches
before forming a point and fading from visible light. A small globe of lighted
area lay in the middle of the living room. The amber glow of the firelight fell
upon the glass coffee table and couch, dividing them from the surrounding
darkness.
Dana Scully gazed into the flame, concentrating on the glow
and the sound of the Bach chorale in the background. Candles had always
fascinated her. Although she had a slight fear of fire and was always nervous
while striking the match to light them, the calming silence of the flame always
brought her thoughts into focus.
Candles brought back pleasant memories.
In the Scully household, they were used for two reasons during her childhood:
holiday festivities and power-outages. During the holidays, the elegant settings
on the dining room table and the decorations in the family room were given more
of a homey feel by the soft, dancing lights. But the candles also gave the house
an air of solemn religious tradition. Even at the age of four, Scully had been
able to recognize a deeper meaning behind the flame.
Power-outages had
been happy times, too. Her father would come intot he room that she shared with
Melissa and read to them by candlelight, soothing the girls' fears of the
darkness and thunderstorms outside. The flickering helped Scully fall back
asleep as the flame happily danced, counteracting and protecting her from the
scary events on the other side of the wall.
Tonight, she'd lit the
candle in hopes of finding an inner balance within the flame. The ritual
involved letting all of her worldly thougths disappear into the flame, burning
away until only the inner soul of the seeker was left. Her sister had suggested
it, and although Scully was skeptic at best of Melissa's New Age beliefs, her
actions tonight were out of desperation.
She needed to know if somewhere
deep inside her, she believed.
Mulder had been gone for a month now.
He'd vanished without a trace from a partially buried boxcar in a New Mexico
quarry that had been burned from the inside out.
He'd gotten too close.
Again. And this time, he'd sacrificed himself.
But in doing so, he'd
accidently sacrificed Scully, too. Throughout their partnership, Scully had
always been the emotional strength of the two. She always tried to keep her
thoughts in check, never raising her voice, never admitting that what she saw
was slowly tearing her foundation of beliefs away. But now, without Mulder
there, she could tell that a large part of her was missing, and it was a part
that only Mulder had been able to provide. She needed to know if she had the
ability to fill at least part of it until he returned.
If he returned.
No. Don't start thinking about him, she told herself.
Concentrate on this right now. You have the rest of your waking hours to think
about Mul- She stopped herself before she completed his name. She couldn't
let her grief over Mulder break her attempt to do this. She needed to see what
was in her soul.
But another voice inside her began to speak, and she
was forced to listen. Why now, Scully? After all this time, why Boggs?
She heard Mulder's voice from over a year ago within her memories. Boggs *had*
known too much for someone who was just trying to get off of death row. And he'd
gotten to her, but surprisingly, he hadn't convinced Mulder.
Mulder had
asked her after Boggs had died why she couldn't believe. And she'd admitted that
she was afraid. But she hadn't told him why. She couldn't tell him that deep
down, there were things that she did believe in, but they were things that she
couldn't explain. And she felt that the unexplainable needed to be surpressed.
She was Dana Scully, a medical doctor in the F.B.I., who needed a clear head and
solid focus to investigate crimes that had been committed. She could *not* let
her judgement get clouded by paranormal solutions to every problem. She had to
be strong. The solution to the case was all that mattered.
But that's
not true, Scully! she heard Mulder say again. When do you back down and
concentrate on what's important to yourself? When do you step away and ask what
*Dana Scully* believes? She had no idea how to answer that one. How much
*did* it take to force herself to back down and take a deep look inside to see
who she really was?
No, she *did* know the answer.
Mulder's
disappearance.
The candle continued to melt as the flame devoured
more and more of the wick. A glob of molten blue wax had run down the side of
the candlestick onto the table, forming a round ball upon the wooden surface.
Scully didn't even notice. Her attention was completely directed at the
flame before her eyes. She stared into the light, beyond it, letting her eyes go
out of focus until all she saw was a blurry globe of yellow in front of her.
And found that, under the fear, under the simple curiosity, and under
the logical explanations, she'd buried something deep inside. There *was*
something else there. A undefined belief. Something that had developed through
her work with the X-Files. She felt her subconscious mind blanket her senses,
and let all of her suspicion fall away.
Slowly a wooded lake with
trees as far as she could see came into view. The place seemed familiar, but for
the life of her, she couldn't place it. She looked up to the treeline, but
couldn't see the sky. An opaque haze covered the tree tops. She stood on a hill
facing the lake, about twenty feet in front of an old weather-beaten pier. She
walked down toward the dock to get a better look, but as she did, the fog
thickened, blanketing the end of the dock from view.
Whispery voices
floated through the fog. Familiar voices, but distorted enough to make them
inidentifiable.
"She's not there," she heard a male voice, full of
sorrow, say.
"Her soul is here," a woman's voice answered.
Scully had the feeling that they were very close by, but the fog hid
everything over fifty feet away.
She heard the female voice again. "I've
been told not to call you Fox."
Mulder! She tried to call out to
him, but she couldn't make a sound.
"By who?" The male voice again. It
*had* to be Mulder. The curiosity in the voice was so unique to Mulder. It just
*had* to be him.
Mulder, where are you? she called in her
thoughts, scanning the tree-filled fog for any signs of other people.
She ran to the dock, her feet making no sound as they snapped the twigs
and leaves on the forest floor. Everything was silent; no wind rustled the tree
leaves, no soft waves lapped at the dock fortifications, no birds chirped.
Nothing. Nothing except those voices.
She jumped onto the pier, feeling
the slight give of the planks as she landed. She ran her hand along the top of
those closest to the hill. It definitely was an old dock-the damp, mildew smell
of the wood and the grey colour gave that away, but definitely not abandoned. It
had been kept up very efficiently over the years. There were no side rails, but
the walkway was fairly high above the shoreline. Scully felt her knees weaken
suddenly as an inner fear of heights briefly took over her thoughts.
Still kneeling on the planks, she raised her head to look down the
length of the walkway. Two dark figures stood at the end, but again were
distorted by the fog.
"If she would have said something, the EEG would
have moved." The male voice was more distinct now. She knew it was definitely
Mulder. She knew just by how the man's words were pronounced and by the speed of
his words. She jumped to her feet and jogged down the dock, watching as the
outlines of the two figures became sharper with every step.
With less
than ten feet between herself and the two people, she froze. A thick rope,
discolored from age and damp mold, had been tied to the end support beam. Scully
followed the length of the rop with her eyes until they reached a small, rickety
wooden rowboat. She screamed silently, shutting her eyes at the sight of herself
sitting in the boat, gazing blankly ahead at and beyond the people on the dock.
What is this? she asked herself, her panic growing by the second. She tried to
calm herself with a couple of deep breaths, and succeeded to a certain extent.
Keep going, Dana. You're almost there. Her knees were shaking badly now, almost
visibly spasming and disallowing her to walk. She fell back down to her knees as
they gave way. No! she cried, straining to reach for the taller person only a
few feet away. She knew that if she could reach him, she'd find what she needed
to know. She tried to crawl, but couldn't. Her muscles were simply too tired to
move.
"Mulder!" she cried as her arm flailed in exhaustion. "I need your
help! Mulder, help me!"
No, Dana, she heard Mulder's voice inside her
head. It's not time yet. Be Patient. Let it come to you, or you won't stay true
to your beliefs. She nodded inwardly, disappointed but oddly still peaceful and
let go, allowing the vision to fade away from view.
Her
consciousness drifted back to reality as her eyes refocused on the flame. She
was disoriented for a few moments, her mind struggling as it tried to adapt to
the surroundings that usuallywere immediately familiar. The deep bass tones of a
chorale filled her ears again as her living room finally solidified to her
senses.
Scully closed her eyes for only a moment, breathing deeply. She
remained perfectly still, afraid that any physical motion on her part would
disturb the moment. She'd never felt this level of inner peacefullness before.
Her arms were dead weight, numbly lying on top of her thighs. She yawned and
pushed her shoulders down, trying to stretch out the kink in her neck that
resulted from a long period of motionless sitting.
Finally her mind
snapped back to reality. Oh God, Mulder will think I've cracked! she laughed
inwardly, scaning over the very un-Dana Scullyish altar she'd set up on the
coffee table according to her sister's explanation. Her jovial mood turned sour
as she remembered he couldn't answer. Oh Mulder. She bowed her head, feeeling a
need to do something. Should she pray? She tried, but couldn't put her emotions
into words. She gazed at the candle again, trying to force her mind back into
the subconscious zone, but the more she pushed, the further it was from her
reach.
Frustrated, she hugged her knees to her chest. How was Mulder
always able to just accept the unexplainable so easily? And why the hell do you
always need so much proof, Dana? Can't you just let go of the need to explain
everything? Just once? Two tears escaped her shut eyes as the strength of the
emotion finally overwhelmed her. She grabbed the Redskins jersey he'd left at
her place a couple months ago and hugged it like a childhood security blanket as
the wave of tears fell.
Scully, I have the strength of your beliefs, she
heard Mulder's voice say inside her head. Was it actually him or just something
her fatigued mind was conjuring? She didn't care. She ignored her conscious
mind's doubts and slumped back against the couch, welcoming sleep.
For once, she simply believed.
-end-
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