From: AlienShip2000@aol.com
Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 00:55:22 EDT
Subject: The Brilliant Dance by Eve

Title: The Brilliant Dance

Author: Eve

Rating: PG

Category: A, Character death (sorta)

Spoilers: slightly to Trust No 1

Archive: Sure, just let me know please

Summary: "Well this is incredible/Starving insatiable.../When you'd
like to think that you were invincible/Yeah well weren't we all
once/Before we felt loss for the first time/This is the last time."

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. All property of Chris Carter,
1013, Fox and all those people. I have no money so even if you were to
sue, you'd spend more money on the lawyer then you'd get!

Feedback: Please! AlienShip2000@aol.com

Authors Notes: Sorta goes with the song "Brilliant Dance" by Dashboard
Confessional... it just popped out of nowhere in Chemistry class. Let
me know what you think. (please)

****

       I make my now daily stop at the internet cafe with a hint of
resignation.Lord knows why I continue to come here with such
regularity. Why I continue the brilliant dance of hope and denial. My
inbox remains empty of anything that couldn't be opened in the
confines of my own apartment. I expect nothing, and try to hope for
the same, but despite the risk my heart betrays my mind. I don't want
to hear from him for all the right and logical reasons: it's
dangerous, the e-mail could be intercepted. But I want to see his
words and imagine his voice. I need the reassurance that he is still
alive. And how can that be wrong?
       I park William's stroller at the habitual spot by the computer,
smiling fondly at his sleeping form. Now I can almost pretend he is
'normal.' Just a child. And I can make believe that I am just a single
mother wanting to hear from her lover. I almost feel guilty for these
thoughts- I love my child as he is, and what gives me the right to go
against what fate had planned? However, I know it may not be fate but
something far more dangerous.  I trace a finger down his smooth cheek
with affection and a sigh.
       Turning to the computer, I log on as customary. As my inbox
loads, I close my eyes with a deep breath, willing myself to put aside
hope. As I look at the screen I only skim the e-mail addresses. His
would jump out at me.
       But it's not there.
       I sigh quietly, taking a second glance at the e-mail I do have.
Mostly junk, as usual. There is an unfamiliar e-mail address that
catches my eye. A combination of letters and numbers with no domain
after it. Merely M9S1L9225.  There is no subject line. I move to
delete it, then hesitate. Figuring that the worst it could be is an
advertisement for pornography, I click 'read' witha slight degree of
apprehension. There are only three words in the e-mail, but they make
my breath catch in the throat and blood drain from my face.
       'He is dead.'
       After a brief moment of frozen silence, I automaticly log off
and stand up, taking William's carriage without looking at him. I
hurry home, all the while wishing the ground could split open and drop
me in. I don't pay mind as the throngs of people move around me, nor
to the stores and buildings. I just wish to be able to sit in peace
and, logically, mull things over. Knowing logic will desert me, I at
least need to sit. My legs grow weaker by the moment. 'He is dead, he
is dead...' The phrase repeats thought my mind loudly, blocking out
anything else. 'He is dead.'
       I reach home, and put William in his crib before collapsing on
my couch. I curl up in the corner, knees drawn up to my chest
protectively. My sneakers are still on, pressing into the couch. I
realize that the cushions will probably have dirt and small stones on
it the next day. I don't know why the thought crosses my mind. It is
so unimportant and irrelevant. But I kick them off anyway. These
foreign everyday thoughts are coming into my head, forcing me to
ingore the new reality I've just come into.
       This person, whoever it is, is telling me Mulder is dead. Of
course, they didn't specify Mulder, but I don't try to convince myself
otherwise. For nine years faceless players have summed up the board
and moved pieces of our lives-sometimes capturing and destryong them.
It would make sense to finally end the game, to destroy him and me in
the same moment.
       I never thought there would be an end. To try and accept that
he is dead is unimaginable and not for only the personal reasons. Even
with him gone, to a place where I don't know where, with no written
word or spoken sound, there was the thought of 'someday' and
'eventually.' Someday we'd be back chasing monsters down alleyways.
Eventually he'd be spitting seeds on the basement floor.
       Now another faceless player is trying to take away
'eventually.' Trying to convince me that 'someday' will never come. I
cannot prove or disprove it. There is no way to contact Mulder. I must
sit and wait for word...or a corpse. But I don't think he is gone. For
a completley unnatural, unscientific and illogical reason. I don't
feel it. I know undoubtedly that with him gone there would be no hope.
At least for a time. That my sould would only be half there and my
heart would burn continuously. But they don't. And instead of breaking
down, I continue to sit, fighting off the invading waves of cold.

-30-

Words to 'Brilliant Dance,' which is what I named the story for. It
all belongs to Dashboard Confessional.

So this is odd
The painful realization
That all has gone wrong
And nobody cares at all
And nobody cares at all
So you buried all your lovers clothes
And you burned the letters lover wrote
But it doesn't make it any better
Doesn't make it any better
And the plaster dented from your fist
In the hall where you had your first kiss
Reminds you that the memory will fade

So this is odd
A sidestepping has come to be
A brilliant dance
Where nobody leads at all
Nobody leads at all
And the picture frames are facing down
And the ringng from this empty sound
Is deafening and keeping you from sleep
And breathing is a foreign task
And thinking's just too much to ask
And you're measuring your minutes 
By a clock thats blinking eights

Well this is incredible
Starving insatiable
Yes this is love first time
When you'd like to think that you were invincible
Yeah well weren't we all once
Before we felt loss for the first time
This is the last time
This is the last time
This is the last time