From mkendall31@hotmail.com Tue Apr 01 20:24:29 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: *New* -- Legacy of Him 1/1 From: mkendall31@hotmail.com (MKendall31) -------- Title: Legacy of Him 1/1 Author: Maggie Kendall, mkendall31@hotmail.com Classification: V, S Rating: PG Spoilers: Tempus Fugit/Max Summary: Scully receives the gift Pendrell had intended to give to her for her birthday. Author's Notes: Alright, everybody raise your hands - how many are still mourning Pendrell? This story idea came to me after I came back down from my fit after seeing "Max" - two character deaths in one episode is a little too much for this XPhile to handle... and yes, I am ignoring the fact that there were two episode in the series. ;) A million thanks to CiCi Lean, my omniscient editor. Disclaimer: Scully and Pendrell belong to Chris "kill for kicks" Carter and the MIBs at 1013 productions. No infringement is intended. Feedback? Me? Oh you're too kind... mkendall31@hotmail.com ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Box. This was what she thought when she looked at it. Capital *b*, formal and imposing. Causing the person reciting or reading the word to give it some special emphasis. Not just any box - the *Box*. It didn't look like a box that deserved a title. It was a typical, white jewelry box that fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. There was the requisite red bow attached to the top, the one that tied around the lid and bottom, holding them together. The tag read in deliberate letters: To Dana. The Box had been dropped off by Skinner only a few minutes ago, when she had been alone in the office. Mulder was running an errand. He'd probably be back in about an hour. Thank God for small favors. She didn't want anyone there when she opened it. Her Box. For this was the birthday present Pendrell had intended to give her the night he'd been shot. The night he had died. He had died waiting to celebrate her birthday. She told him he wouldn't die, but it hadn't kept him alive. And that bullet...that hollow point bullet, that had shattered inside of him, ripping him apart, leaving him for dead...was intended for her. She could still hear him slurring a greeting to her that night, his voice laced with the evidence of too much beer. "Hey birthday girl....." <"I've got something for you."> Her eyes never left the Box. She supposed she should cry. After all, he'd been a friend. Hadn't he? No. Friends knew friend's first names. And now, even well after his death, she still hadn't found out. His personnel file would still be accessible to her - it wouldn't take much to find it out. Just look in the right slot - Agent Steven Pendrell. Darren Pendrell. Joseph. Robert. James. Either way, he'd still be dead. And no matter what she did, she couldn't lift the weight of guilt she felt every day, bearing down on her shoulders like the burden of Atlas. No matter how she rationalized it, chalked it up to bad luck or fate, she couldn't shake it. He was dead. And no name would bring him back. She sighed, her reverie ending, and her glassy, red eyes returning to the Box. She raised a hesitant finger, then slit the side of the ribbon with a fingernail and opened the lid. On top of white cotton packing there lay a card. It was small and square, with flowers and gold embossed edges. She set it aside for now, deciding to read it after she saw the present. Digest this one piece at a time, Dana. Easier that way - much easier. Safer. She lifted the cotton slowly. And there lie a gold pin. It was probably a little less than the length of her pinky finger, half the width. It was gold wire, varying in thickness as it wove in and out, creating the initials "DS" -- the perfect thing to wear on a blazer lapel, or to fasten a scarf. She'd never seen anything quite like it, he must have had it made for her. She touched it gingerly, surprised to feel tears bite at the back of her eyes, but they refused to fall. She placed it on the desk in front of her,and picked up the card. If he had taken the time and the care to have a gift made for her, how would he have chosen the card? Did he simply pick the first one he saw on the rack by the cashier's desk? Or had he stood and searched for one that somehow reminded him of her? On the front, red and pink roses surrounded by gold etching. Elegant, simple, not cumbersome; a simple card showing beauty without overstatement. Was that how he saw her? How had he seen her? She'd never know. She drew in a deep breath and opened the card, her eyes falling on the first word and reading, unable to stop herself until the end. Dana, Best wishes for a happy birthday, and many more to come. I hope I'll be there to help you celebrate them. Brian. The card fell from her hands, roses and gold fluttering to her desk, landing silently against her ringing ears. Brian. Oh God... I wish you'd be around for them too. However many are left. Brian. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ What did you think? Hit that lovely reply button and let me know....... :-)