Date: Tue, 14 Mar 2000 04:59:18 GMT Subject: NEW: 'No Goodbyes' by Dana of Starbuck TITLE: No Goodbyes (1/1) AUTHOR: Dana of Starbuck RATING: PG-13 for disturbing images CATEGORY: Post-colonization DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Please! Just not Gossamer, and ask me first. FEEDBACK: Hint: My birthday is the same day that En Ami broadcasts. Birthday presents are adored. Send to Pipn Took@aol.com SPOILERS: The mythology SUMMARY: After colonization, Scully and Mulder prepare to fight back. AUTHOR'S NOTES: At end DISCLAIMER: Don't sue me. Please? I'm just borrowing them, Mr. Carter. Okay? NO GOODBYES The air was hot. Hot as hell. A sticky dampness squeezed through material and onto the flushed skin underneath. The ash fell like rain; a bitter shower in the grey light as the clouds of smoke from countless fires blocked the sun and blanketed the mangled terrian in a dusty smog. The ash coated everything. The ground. The survivors. The ruins. The dead. The placid rain not only resulted from the fires, but from the charred flesh of thousands of corpses, left to disintigrate in the scorching heat. Those who had survived refused to acknowledge that the grey film, resting on their sweaty shoulders, were all that remained of their loved ones. A few had survived the holocaust, now living in fear inside the useless army bomb shelters. They had taken the women and children into protection to a secret location. Their lives were the only hope that remained for the future, however bleak it may prove to be. Now, the men strapped the kevlar vests over clammy undershirts. Preparing. They wore the vests out of habit; not for protection. Bullets were weak, and the enemy did not waste their time with such feeble ammunition. But bullets were all that the resistence had. Their only weapon. Their only chance. The uniform's material stuck to the skin and clothing, already soaked in perspiration. No relief from the heat would come; the only rain being the carbonized remains of the human race. As the resistance prepared, the sweat dripped down from their hair and faces only to fall to the ground, unheeded. Or are they tears? I was impossible to tell now; dreams fading to waking only to meet a nightmare more odious than any imagination could conceive. The heat . . . they needed it. They needed it to breed the monstrocities inside their victims. Clawing their way through flesh and bone, thousands of creatures had emerged into a world of destruction and chaos. A world created for them. A world where the only rule that remained was survival. Only a handful had escaped the Rebels, the bees, and the Oil. They were the resistance, fighting desperately for a future they could not control. And so they planned, week after week, a way to strike back within the dark confines of abandoned army bases and bomb shelters. They lived in constant fear, in constant watch, in constant motion. One place to the next, always moving. Always avoiding. Survival. The first and only rule they followed. One of the resistance members tied her laces into a tight knot. Her eyes looked at the boots without expression. She had seen too much in too short a time. A bead of sweat slipped past her ear, and she carelessly wiped it aside. No electricity. Little food. Less water. No sunlight escaped the clouds, much less the concrete walls of their base. The nights were black as pitch. The days were lit only by flashlights and candles. Darkness reigned, the inky blackness surrounding each small dorm. Each room held two people. Two cheap cots with one blanket each. They never used the blankets. She sat on her tiny cot and pulled the black jacket over her shoulders. The yellow letters FBI screamed on her back. Those letters no longer had any meaning; that organization no longer existed. As she pulled the long sleeves over her arms, the heat overwhelmed her senses, but only for a moment. The temperature didn't matter to her anymore. A lot of things didn't matter now. She snapped on the kevlar vest over the jacket. The black color would conceal her during the attack. That was her one advantage. Shoes snug, vest on, a helmet and gas mask under one arm, the soldier took a final glance around the closet- sized room. One hand wiped another trail of sweat from her brow and stole through her hair. It was short. It had been in the way, and she had forced a pair of scissors into her parnter's hands and told him to cut. He had obeyed, but she had refused to watch the red locks fall to the floor. Her mother used to say that her hair was the color of the sunset . . . or what the sunset used to look like. She had not seen the sun in weeks, not since the first air raid sirens sounded. The blare was gone now; there were no more sirens. She and her partner had run. It had killed her to see so many people fleeing the fire and the bees, but always falling to the ground, their bodies no longer their own. He had taken her hand and pulled her onward, and they had dashed, desperately, away from Washington and to the nearest shelter. Others had survived, and that was a miracle in itself. There was still hope. The resistance tried to take her away, to hide her with the other women, but she had refused. She had never taken the easy way, never gone into hiding. She wouldn't start now. Met by the fire behind the eyes of herself and her partner, the others had backed down. Now she was the only woman in the resistence, and she faced the challenges that any woman in her position would have. But she had made it clear that she was already taken . . . however untruthful that may be. Her partner had wanted to protect her, but she had insisted that this was not necessary. Until the callings began. The two of them stayed in the same room. They trusted one another, and no one else. No other arrangement would have worked. Neither slept that first night, staring blankly into the consuming blackness. No discussion, no words, no descriptions could justify the horrors of that day. So they lay silently, waiting for morning to come. Now she fingered the back of her neck tenderly, remembering the throbbing, the undeniable urge to leave. To meet those who were waiting for her. It was like that night two years ago. Only this time, her mind and body had seperated into two seperate identities. Her mind commanding her to go, her body fighting to stay. She was at war with her own self. Succumbing at last to the unbearable temptation, she had climbed to her feet and approached the door, weakly calling her partner's name. He had understood, even though she had only uttered a single word. He caught her before her hand could twist the cold metal of the doorknob, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. Soothing words flowed from his lips, whispering that it would be alright, that he wouldn't let them take her again, and he led her back to bed, this time lying beside her, spooning her against him. The struggle between her mind and body grew to an insufferable climax, nearly destroying her, and when the urge finally passed, she wept in his arms. He never loosened his hold. More callings tortured her before the week was over and the colonists were satisfied, and every time he held her close, assuring her that the two of them would get through this alive. She rubbed the small scar gently when a stronger hand clasped over hers and lowered it to her side. She glanced over and he looked at her gravely. Her head bobbed in a silent answer to an unasked question. She was ready. It was time to go. They cast a final glance bagind them before walking down the hall of the abandoned army shelter to join the others. The first offensive strike. They would not be returning. Even if the attack was successful, their cover would be gone; and they would be forced to move on to another location, for another attempt at freedom. Silenly, they made their way to the assembly room, the humid air suffocating their skin. The two looked at one another long and hard, affirming the agreement they had made the previous afternoon. No heriocs. No sacrifices. No rescues. No goodbyes. They needed to look out for themselves, now. As long as one stayed alive, the resistance had an advantage; they would have a fighter immune to the virus -- the black oil. The partners were lucky. They would not die with another creature bursting from their stomachs, or an ooze controlling every action of their body. But this protection would not stop the fire, the twisted metal, or the wild bullets. No one spoke in the cramped, stuffy room. Every movement pierced the silence like one of the useless bullets in their guns. She wiped another trail of sweat from her nose and forehead. Air was gone, the stifling oxygen closing in around her. He left her side to meet with the capitain, and she checked for her weapons. Sig on right hip. Stiletto on left. M-16 in hand. Her eyes stole across the room and scanned all of the resistors' faces. Total silence. The stone expressions on their faces sent chills down her spine. These were the faces of men approaching certain death, and having no fear of it. A shout rang out, breaking the silence instantaniously. It was her partner's voice. Both of them had rather high positions, but she did not care. Why would she? An extra title added to her name would make no difference to a bounty hunter. He watched her from across the room with sorrow in his eyes. She had changed in the last few weeks. His heart ached with the knowledge that he finally allowed to sneak into his consciousness. The knowledge that this may be the last time he would see her. That he might never hold her in his arms again. That he might not look into her eyes and find completion. No goodbyes. He had promised her. The empty silence had gone, replaced by the loading of weapons, the smack of metal on metal, the trampling, the shouting. It was time to go, to face the nightmare outside. Lines assembled quickly. From beyond the running soldiers, she caught his gaze and held it. They clutched their helmets beneath one arm and the gas masks in the other. The masks were not only for the toxic blood, but for the stench of the rotting corpses lying abandoned among the wreckage. Their eyes remained locked, pained, until he felt his body would burst from the raging emotions inside him. As he watched, her face relaxed from the cold stare to another of pure fear. She was human, after all. Before he even knew what was happening, he had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her waist the same moment she rushed toward him nand put her hands on his cheeks, pulling his face to hers. They kissed passionatly, longingly,. He pulled her tightly against him, and she kept her mouth planted on his. In a flurry of lips and tongues, he made a promise of love, hope, and tomorrow. No goodbyes. She repositioned her mouth and kissed him deeper, as if by this act the two of them would be invinsible from any harm that might befall them that day. That some shield would protect them until that night . . . or the next. Or eternity. Another shout forced them apart. The resistance was moving out. He looked into her eyes for a long moment before lifting the mask and helmet she had allwed to fall to the floor. Gently, he fit the helmet snugly over her crop of hair and ran his fingers down her arms. Her hands caressed the stubble of his cheeks and across his lips, engraving every touch into her memory. No goodbyes. They put on their gas maskes, he his helmet, and they hoisted the straps of their weapons over their shoulders. Following the others, the two walked out of the compound and into the steamy desert landscape. The buildings had been reduced to rubble, the power lines to electric snakes crawling across the bricks, and the cars to twisted metal. She fingered where the hidden letters would be beneath her partner's vest before running toward the future and the horizon of Washington D.C. xxxxxxx end Author's notes: Okay, this is not exactly an optimistic fic, I know. But it practically wrote itself. (In Spanish class, of all places.) If I get enough requests, I will write a sequel. I already have an idea, but if it is going to take up valuable internet space, why bother. Once again, hello to all my Shipper buddies. Katie, my place at 7 on Sunday!!! Claire, Brita, and Nick, you're invited too!