From: Bonnie Date: 02 Jan 2001 05:03:04 GMT Subject: NEW: Finally and Never (1 of 1) by Forte, VA, PG TITLE: Finally and Never AUTHOR: Forte E-MAIL: Bjm1352@aol.com or Forte1354@aol.com URL: http://www.thebasementoffice.com/ RATING: PG CATEGORY: V SPOILERS: Through and including Requiem. KEYWORDS: Angst. SUMMARY: "I've never been known to give flowers as a birthday gift, but they seemed appropriate this year." ARCHIVE: Gossamer/Ephemeral/Xemplary/M&S/Spooky awards site OK; anywhere else please ask first. DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never was, never will be. CC, 1013, and FOX have custody. Damn. FEEDBACK: Yes please. THANKS: To Musea, for beta and support of all kinds. :) ********** Finally and Never by Forte ********** You hold a small, tasteful bouquet of flowers in one hand; the other cradles your swollen belly. Your head is bowed in reverence, but you're not praying. There are things you need to say, but they are things not to be heard by others. You're not concerned about the friends who drove you here, who won't let you drive any significant distance at this stage in your pregnancy. You know They might be watching and listening. They can't have this. So you release your thoughts through your soul rather than your mouth. Although the laws of physics would deny it, you know that the words will travel to the right person. ********** I've never been known to give flowers as a birthday gift, but they seemed appropriate this year. Flowers can grow and bloom under some of the worst possible conditions. They push their beauty into the world in spite of too little water or too much sun. They squeeze out through cracks in concrete. They escape being eaten by insects. They persevere. I wish you could see me. I wish you could see how I'm growing, and persevering, under the worst conditions. I found it hard to believe, but I finally did. You would have believed more quickly than I did, wouldn't you? I wish you were here. I miss you. ********** You brush a tear from your cheek. You don't pretend it was caused by the wind blowing something in your eye. ********** I was angry for a long time. Angry that They took you from me. Angry that I'd never see you again. Angry that I hadn't known you were in danger. How could I have been so blind? You walked right into the lion's den. I should have known. I should have stopped you before you left. It's taken me a long time to get past that anger, at least the anger at myself. I wish to God I had done things differently, but if I place the blame on myself then I am absolving Them. I refuse to do that. I will never do that. When the doctors first told me that you were gone, I didn't want to believe it. I think I was afraid I would stop breathing if I believed it. It wasn't until I saw you... so pale, with all the warmth gone from you... that I finally began to believe. But still, I grasped at whatever denial I could. Can you blame me? I denied the pain by not talking about you unless it was related to your case. I thought that would make it easier. I was wrong -- it only made my grieving longer, because I tried to hold on to you in the wrong way. ********** You wipe away another tear and your hand wanders to your neckline. You finger your cross, pulling gently on the delicate chain as you think. ********** I know you never really believed; never had this faith that I have. Perhaps you did when you were younger, but you lost it somewhere along the way. Instead, you had your own faith. One that I never could fully understand or embrace, but that I respected nonetheless. I know you appreciated that. My faith has evolved over the years. I have seen and experienced things I cannot deny: man's inhumanity toward man; evidence that the God I believe in may not be exactly what I always thought He was; evidence of paranormal events that I can't explain. And I have seen and experienced evil, in many forms. Even in my own home. But neither can I deny that good can prosper in the midst of evil, of tragedy. I have faith in that, for one thing. This child I carry is proof. This child, who has been denied such a very important person in its life. I promise you that I will tell this little one everything I can about you, from the moment she -- or he -- is born. As much as possible, I want this baby to know you as well as I do. To know how much I loved you. How much I still love you, even with you gone. I have faith in that, too. But I could not have done that when part of me denied that you were gone. How ironic that to share you, I had to let you go. To let you go, I had to learn to talk about you -- with Mom, with our friends. I had to come full circle to find the truth. Can you understand that? Will you forgive me for letting you go? I hope... I hope that release brought you peace, as it finally did to me. ********** You kneel. Slowly, because your size makes it difficult these days. You lay the bouquet on the cool ground, run your fingers over the chiseled name on the stone in front of you. You speak aloud for the first time. If They are listening, you want Them to hear this. "I was finally able to let you go. But I'll never be able to let him go, and I'll never stop searching. You understand, don't you, Missy?" The stone seems to answer you, judging by the softening of your face. You press a hand down on the top of the granite to help yourself stand, straighten your back as much as you can, and walk serenely back to the car where the Gunmen wait for you. ********** ~ end ~ ********** Yes, I took some liberty about the date of Melissa's birthday. To the best of my knowledge, her exact birthday is never stated on the show, only that she was born in 1962. Did you think I killed off Mulder? Feedback makes my day: Bjm1352@aol.com or Forte1354@aol.com. Thanks for reading! *~*~* My fanfiction has a new home for 2001! http://www.thebasementoffice.com/ And please stop by to visit Musea, a collection of beauty: http://www.geocities.com/museans/ *~*~*