From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Wed, 17 May 2000 16:07:32 -0500 Subject: Losing by Dana Perrin Source: direct Reply To: the_ice_queen777@hotmail.com Losing : The Mirror Written through the mind of: Dana K. Scully Rated NC-17 Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Don't sue me, I have no money. The X-Files belong to the all mighty CC...but the hearts and souls of Mulder and Scully belong to Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny. MSR, Angst Archive: Anywhere...tell me so I can visit though. the_ice_queen777@hotmail.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I can't believe I lost. I pride myself on my strength, and my ambition...I've never lost before. Not like this... What would my father say? I don't think he'd comfort me, he never did. When I was nine I fell off my bike and split my knee on the pavement, but I didn't cry. My father came out and told me to pull myself together. My knee was gushing blood through a tear in my jeans, where my mother held a towel to try and slow it down. The tears were welled up in my eyes but I wouldn't let them fall. I got 12 stitches that day, and I would sometimes think I was the only child in the world who didn't want their daddy there to hold their hand. I held the sheets instead, and grit my teeth until my jaw hurt. Daddy I was only nine for Christs sake. My mother would hold me if she knew. Hell, maybe she does know by now. I know she loves me more than life itself, and I feel bad about pushing her away. But I'm not looking for pity, or attention. Attention was never what I wanted. I only went to my junior prom because Missy would be there to outshine me. She tried unmercifully to show me that I was beautiful. She pulled my hair up (it was longer and thicker then) on the sides and curled the wisps around my face. My skin was fair with youth, not pale like it is now, but blushing with innocence. The dress I wore was plain, blue, with thin straps and a low back. I though I looked rediculous. I was short and I played sports, I didn't belong in a dress. She pulled me into her room while she was getting dressed and stood me in front of her mirror. She told me I was beautiful, and I almost believed her...if she hadn't been standing next to me... Day after day she would force me to look into that mirror, she even twis! ted my arm once until my cheek was pressed against the cold glass. They were childish games then...but...now I wish that I had looked. She was the only one I ever cried in front of. Well, except Mulder. Mulder. I remember the first time...the last time we made love. I was laying between the stale sheets when he came in. The nurse had just gotten me out of the shower... ...you see... ...I had tried to drain away with the water... There were no IV's, no monitors. Nothing. Just a room. My mom had left for the night on my command. I told her she needed to sleep in a real bed. Mulder smiled when he came in. He doesn't bring me flowers anymore. The last time he did, I threw them against the wall and watched them scatter. He held my hand and sat with me. We didn't talk, there was nothing to say, and I fell asleep while he played with my fingers. I dreamt of Emily. Of all things, I dreamt of her. I dreamt of the night I laid next to her on her pillow right before she slipped away. I held her little body in my arms and cried when I felt her leave. So I guess I've cried for three people in my life. I couldn't expect her to win though...she was only a little girl. But then I was awake, with Mulder standing over me. My hands rose to my face and wiped away the tears that had secretly slipped out in my moment of unconsciousness. And then I hit him. I hit him because he woke me. I hit him because he told me I had stopped breathing. You take away my family, you say you care for me and I forgive you! I've always forgiven you! But you've taken my dreams.... I wanted to be with Emily! I wanted to go...and be with Melissa...and daddy... What right did he have?! I choose whether I win or lose! I don't want him to drag me across the finish line. I stopped pounding when I saw the pain in his eyes. But the hurt wasn't from my fists, I couldn't hurt a fly these days, it was because I had said I hated him. Sometimes unspoken words slip from my mouth. My tears fell with his, simultaneously, like they always had, and I pulled him close to apologize. It was my turn to say I was sorry. I'm sorry Mulder. I'm sorry I won't be there to prove you wrong. I'm sorry I won't be there to save your ass when you've shoved your foot in your mouth for the millionth time. I'm sorry I won't be there to scold you when you forget to hang up my jacket. By the way, I left one on the coat hanger in the office to remind you. I'm sorry I won't be there to watch your children grow, if you ever decided to marry that is...and I'm sorry that I'm leaving you here without a best friend. I must have said that out loud because he kissed me then, and our tears were the first to combine. He lay down next to me on the bed and pushed my hair aside to nip at my neck. His kisses were smooth and soft, warm...and I loved it. My body may have been dying but my senses were very much alive. I loved that he wasn't afraid of me. The body he undressed was no longer full and strong but pale and thin. But he didn't care. He loved me that night. He loved my soul. As he took off his clothes, I thought of the countless nights I had chastised the wetness between my legs. I would awaken in the night, after dreaming of his body on top of mine, and reach underneath the covers to finish what he had started. I had grown used to my own touch...so when his fingers spread my lips to stroke my clit I jerked slightly in response. I had always thought that our first time would be fast, the animal urges taking over our bodies. But we both knew that our first would be our last. I cried softly as he eased inside of me, being gentle as I knew he would. Sex was never really a big deal in my life, mostly because I didn't do it much. I had sex, I was no stranger to it, but with Mulder... He was gliding in and out slowly, letting his fingers travel along my sides. He brushed across my waist, to my ribs, my breasts, and felt my heart beating there. I moaned and he sped up, but not before pulling me to him in a firm embrace. He held my chin in his hand so I would look at him...I saw myself in his eyes...but I heard Melissa. It was his voice, but her words, telling me that I was beautiful. The tears came again as my memories of that mirror flashed through my brain. I don't want to look... But Mulders hand was forcing my chin down, to look at myself, to watch him sliding into me over and over. Your beautiful...your beautiful... ...please....just stop... My tears dripped between us as his words became a chant...not in anger, but determination. As I tried to look away he pulled me closer. My head rested on his shoulder as I stared into the mirror behind us. I watched his body as it worked harder and harder against me, and I felt it coiling towards my center. I srained against him as he moved, until he sensed my need and reached his hand between us to stroke my clit. Uhhhhh..... I felt my muscles clamp around him as my orgasm rippled through my body. He began to tremble in my arms, and spilled into me a moment later in his own release. I lay under him for a while after that, just relishing in the feel of his body around mine. When he finally withdrew and moved onto his side, my eyes met their reflection in the mirror...and I began to cry. Mulder looked to the glass, wondering why... I'm sorry Mulder... For the first time in a while, my cheeks were flushed with life, my lips swollen and red. Mulder smiled, ran his fingers across my clit and back to my mouth, tracing my lips with the sweet juices... I was beautiful... He ran his fingers through my hair and began to cry, watching the strands come loose in his hands... The lights were bright after that, and my eyes never left the mirror. ...I can't believe I lost.