From: Dtcsm@aol.com Date: Thu, 24 Feb 2000 06:48:10 EST Subject: xfc: *NEW* makebelieve (1/1) Source: xfc Title: makebelieve Author: Brit*Vik Spoilers: Ickle teeny passing references to "Emily" and "The Unnatural" Category: V, UST, character death Summary: "he always says he loves me in whispers" Feedback: Scrummier than the extremely scrummy double chocolate fudge brownie ice-cream I ate last night, and with a hell of a lot less calories. Go on, exercise your fingers! Your keyboard is begging for the physical stimulation. E-mail: Trynnie@aol.com believe_the_lie@lycosmail.com Archive: Please, if you think it's good enough. Just keep my name and e-mail address attached, and let me know so I can come and visit. I like to see my children's new homes. :) Disclaimer: As if we didn't know. Not mine; belong to CC, 1013, FOX et al; no money changing hands; blah, blah, blah. There, happy? Thanks: To Annie, for the beta and for convincing me to change it from MSR to UST . For my big sister... ***makebelieve*** Mulder died a week ago. People are tiptoeing around me, like they're afraid I'll shatter into a million eggshell pieces if they raise their voices above a whisper . My mother keeps asking me to stay at her house as though she's afraid I'll kill myself when no-one's looking. Even Skinner, Mr. Tightass himself, offered me time off work. Full pay. None of them knows that it's all OK - that I'm fine. Not fine-I-have-a-headache or fine-I-want-to-be-left-alone or fine-I'm-not-fine but really fine. I'm fine. It's not that I've forgotten. It's not like I could ever forget how he lay on the ground with blood and foam and fear on his lips as he kissed me goodbye . But at least I can try. I can try not to remember that I ran my fingers over his body as I had before only in imagination and felt him grow cold even under my warm touch. I can try to push away the memory of him being put into a body-bag and how they covered his face like it didn't matter . And then there was the funeral. I never thought I would go to Mulder's funeral, even though it was pretty damn obvious to everyone else that one day I'd have to. As I stood over his coffin and took a handful of dirt , all I could do was look down and a thousand different images blitzed through my mind like lightning, ripping and burning its way through the screaming fluid and tissue. [The way you touch my back and say my name and smell my hair/ the way you were the only one to lay flowers on my daughter's empty coffin / the way you called me by my surname as if it were the most affectionate and pretty name in the world / how you can hold a gun and look a murderer in the eye without flinching but you couldn't bring yourself to tell me you didn't like the pizza i'd ordered / the way you make sure you feed your fish nutritional food / how you are the only one who's ever made me feel beautiful / that look in your eye that's so filled with pain and desperation and utter despair / the way you were the only person ever to take the time to teach me how to swing a baseball bat / how you never *never* give up / the way we learnt to be normal together / / the way you made me into me] That was when I collapsed. Almost fell right in there with the coffin , but someone caught me. I don't remember who. And then I heard their voices, like echoes down a tunnel, as though they were the dead ones and not Mulder , "It shouldn't have happened to one so young; one so loved." But I'm not expected still to cherish moments like this, because he's gone. He's gone. And that's where they're wrong, you see. They think that our love was weak, that it wouldn't survive death. Oh, don't worry. I'm not hallucinating or anything. I know that Mulder is not actually here any more; that his physical body has expired and is no longer needed . But that doesn't mean I can't pretend. I'll pretend that my Mulder's still here with me. Each and every spring day, there'll be a small crushed flower on my desk , and I'll know that Mulder put it there, just like every spring day before. When I talk, I'll imagine that I hear Mulder's reply, his voice husky in the mornings from having slept with his mouth open . When I'm cold, I'll feel his arms wrapped around me again, even if I'm only cuddled in empty air. People will think that it's sad, but that's only because they don't know the truth. You promised that you would never leave me, and you haven't broken a single promise to me yet. So I'm happy. (even if it's only makebelieve) FIN "Beside the Lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way," PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, IF YOU'RE GOING TO SEND ME FEEDBACK (BE IT GOOD, BAD OR UGLY), DON'T JUST HIT REPLY. Trynnie@aol.com OR believe_the_lie@lycosmail.com. THANK-YOU.