From: gnrgirl@hotmail.com Date: Sat, 28 Jul 2001 01:00:13 -0000 Subject: xfc: Colossi of Memnon 1/1 Source: xfc TITLE : Colossi of Memnon AUTHOR : Mickey FEEDBACK : Please!!! I love feedback! gnrgirl@hotmail.com DISCLAIMER : In the grand tradition of other authors, I am trying my hand at a Haiku. *ahem* Mulder, Scully, Will Belong to Carter, et al Please do not sue me ARCHIVE : Ephemeral and Gossamer, OK. At my site : http://www.geocities.com/alia1028 Everyone else, bag it, tag it, tell me where it is . . . (you know the drill) KEYWORDS : MSR, character deaths RATING : PG SPOILERS : Tithonis, Existence SUMMARY : She was told she couldn't die, but refused to believe Notes at the end. This one is dedicated to my friends, the computer monkies. XXXXXXX "Death only looks for you once you seek it's opposite." - Fox Mulder, "Tithonis" XXXXXXX I remember the hospital, like everything else, with slowly degrading clarity. I can't remember the exact type of flowers that were by my bed, although I have some of them pressed in my bible at home. The bible that I haven't opened in years. I can't remember what the exact words were that Mulder, still my partner at the time, told me, although I can remember that they were profound. I remeber the gist of them. What I can remember, with perfect 'ediatic' memory, one that would do Mulder proud, is waking up in that hospital. I can see the look on his face, the joy. I can see the look on my temorary partner's face, sweaty and relieved, even if I can't remember his name. I remember feeling different. Still the same woman, but somehow changed. I didn't know it then, refused to believe it then, but I was immortal. I couldn't die. That was forty years ago. So many things have transpired since that date. Mulder and I raised our son, watched him marry and have a child of his own. We watched the threat of an alien takeover dissapate, we saw the near destruction of our planet. Ten years ago, we saw our son die in a car accident, the same one that took the life of his wife. We watched, holding the hands of our granddaughter, as their caskets were lowered into snowy graves in a ceremony eerily similar to Mulder's own funeral. Then Mulder got sick, lost his memory. He forgot who I was, who our granddaughter was. Claire and I watched together as his casket was lowered into the brown earth; this time though, there would be no miraculous ressurrection. He was gone forever, and once again I was left to care for a child. Once again, the child was all that kept me going. I wanted to die. I truly did. But I knew I couldn't. I was slowly making my way toward eighty, and I hadn't a wrinkle on my face, nor an age spot on my hand. I still looked thirty-five. And I was more than ready to die. XXXXXXX Claire Mulder walked down the street carelessly, keeping careful pace with her grandmother. If she hadn't grown up in the family that she had, she may have thought Grandma's lineless face odd. But, as she'd been told a thousand times when she was younger, stranger things have happened. Like Flukemen. Or liver-eating contortionists that ended up crushed under an elevator. Or . . . suffice to say, the list goes on for miles. Claire paused a moment, taking a peek inside the window of a store. "Dana!" She called out for her companion to stop. She'd stopped calling her grandmother by the more formal appellation years before. The "older" woman, turned, drawing close to Claire. "Isn't this the prettiest dress?" She arched an eyebrow at Dana, gaguing her response, waiting for a reaction. "It's . . . er . . . nice." The dress was strapless, black, and very form-fitting. It obviously would not leave much to the imagination. The midriff was bare, covered in a thin layer of black lace. The word "kinky" came to mind at first glance. "I thought so too. You think I should try it on?" Claire hid a smirk as she watched her grandmother choke back a gasp. "Sweetie," Dana started. "It's not that I don't like your taste in . . . apparell, but don't you think you'd rather wear something with a little more . . . fabric?" "You're so old fashioned!" Claire laughed, prying herself away from the window and continuing back down the street. Dana followed, smiling. Claire stopped at the corner, not waiting for Dana to catch up. She started to cross the street, casting a look back over her shoulder. Then she was in the air, blood splattering across the pavement. XXXXXXX "Claire!" The scream tears from my lips, as I race into the street after my granddaughter. Bits of her hair and blood are stuck to the shattered windwhield of the car that smacked into her. I crouch down beside her, cradling her head in my hands. "Not now, please not now, God! She's too young! She doesn't deserve this!" I scream an oath toward the sky. "No! This can not happen!" Claire stirs in my arms, I can feel the last bits of her life slipping away. "No, shh, baby. Don't move . . ." I pet the side of her face that isn't bloody, heedless of the scarlet that is soaking through my suit. Once more, someone else is being taken away from me. I see her father in the pleading gaze she casts up at me. I see Mulder in that stare, desperately praying that there's something I can do to save her. I'm a doctor. I should be able to do something. But she's coughing up blood. It runs sticky trails down her chin, staining her neck. She is shaking in my arms. Then she stills, looking over my arm at something I can't see. But I know what it is. Tears, that I hadn't even felt start, were running down my face. "Close your eyes, Claire! Don't look at him!" I hiss, beggin her to hear me. I look back at her long enough to brush her eyes closed, making certain she can not see this thing that comes for her. And then I can see it. Nothing like the Hollywood image of death. More like the flash of light in the picture I saw in that apartment so long ago. More peaceful than I could have imagined. I feel myself lifting up, leaving my body. I rise, and I can see EMT's start to pump furiously at my granddaughter's body, then my own. Claire sits up, shoving their hands away, turning to shake my body. She lets out a scream, a wail. They drag her away, forcing her into the ambulance. I'm sorry, love. XXXXXXXXX This was a bit different than everything else I've written, but I hope people like it. I'm not certain if I got the character's right, but that can't be helped now I suppose. The title comes from the tale of Aurora and Tithonis, in a roundabout way. (Wonder where I came up with the name.) If you don't know this little myth, you should check it out. It's pretty cool. You can find it in Bulfinch's or Hamilton's Mythologies. As for the actual meaning of the title, it's a tad more convoluted, however if you're interested, feel free to ask. Feedback? Come on, you know you want to . . . . gnrgirl@hotmail.com