From jimcaz@dircon.co.uk Thu Sep 26 12:40:05 1996 Return-Path: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Received: from chaos.taylored.com (chaos.taylored.com [206.53.224.58]) by sh1.ro.com (8.7.6/8.6.9) with SMTP id NAA18907 for ; Thu, 26 Sep 1996 13:04:35 -0500 Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 26 Sep 1996 18:04:08 -0000 Delivered-To: x-files-fanfic-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com Received: (qmail-queue invoked by alias); 26 Sep 1996 18:04:08 -0000 Delivered-To: xff-outgoing@chaos.taylored.com Received: (qmail-queue invoked by uid 1003); 26 Sep 1996 18:04:05 -0000 Received: (qmail-queue invoked from smtpd); 26 Sep 1996 18:03:58 -0000 Received: from felix.dircon.co.uk (@193.128.224.10) by chaos.taylored.com with SMTP; 26 Sep 1996 18:03:56 -0000 Received: by felix.dircon.co.uk id AA08389 (5.67b/IDA-1.5 for ); Thu, 26 Sep 1996 18:40:31 +0100 Message-Id: <199609261740.AA08389@felix.dircon.co.uk> Received: from gw4-183.pool.dircon.co.uk(194.112.36.183) by amnesiac via smap (V1.3) id sma008343; Thu Sep 26 18:39:55 1996 From: "Jim & Carol Gritton" To: "Fanfic Mailing List" Subject: New: A Pocket Full of Memories 1/1 Date: Thu, 26 Sep 1996 18:40:05 +0100 X-Msmail-Priority: Normal X-Priority: 3 X-Mailer: Microsoft Internet Mail 4.70.1155 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Sender: owner-x-files-fanfic@chaos.taylored.com Precedence: bulk X-UIDL: 86bc2bde0a4976cd4a79e0d73b018d0a Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully etc. are the property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting and Ten Thirteen Productions and are used without permission. No infringement of copyright intended. I do this for the love of it! Constructive comment and criticism welcome, anything else will be cheerfully ignored! Okay, this one is for all you relationshippers out there, and I know there are a lot of you! This is my first attempt at anything vaguely MSR-ish, and I'd be interested in your comments. I've got an idea for something else in that category and your response will tell me whether it's worth me going ahead with it or not! Just a little background to set the scene: Mulder is dead, but prior to that he and Scully were an item. NB This story has nothing to do with my last post "Death" - the two are entirely unconnected. Now read on. A Pocketful of Memories by Carol Gritton (jimcaz@dircon.co.uk) She sat in the darkness sobbing quietly. She was never going to get through this - never. She heard footsteps coming along the passage outside the door and she held her breath, but the footsteps receded and the tears ran down her cheeks once more. She rose and went through to the bedroom. Although the apartment was in darkness, she knew the layout of it like the back of her hand. She went to the dresser and opened the middle draw, sifting carefully through the items until her fingers came to rest on some well-worn, soft material. She drew the item out and carried it reverently to the bed. She lay down on her side, clasping the old, well-loved Knicks sweatshirt to her chest. She could smell him on the fabric, his own familiar scent mixed with the faint aroma of his aftershave, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and running down to soak into the pillow. "Why?" she whispered tearfully. "Why?" She felt so angry that part of her wanted to scream and shout and lash out, but that wouldn't bring him back. She shouldn't even have been in the apartment, but she had to come back one more time. She had to be close to him just one last time. But he'd never really been at home in the bedroom so she sat up, and taking the sweatshirt with her, went back into the living room and lay on the couch. Here his presence was so much stronger - it was ingrained in the cracked leather of the couch. She curled up, clutching the sweatshirt to her as if someone was about to snatch it away. She awoke several hours later, stiff from lying in the same position. The sweatshirt was lying on the floor where it had landed when she dropped it while asleep. She reached down and picked it up, brushing it off. She held it up and rested her cheek against it, like she had rested her cheek against his skin. "Oh Fox," she whispered. "What did they do to you?" She blinked. "Fox? Is that you?" she asked in hushed tones. The vision smiled - a smile she knew so well. "Are you real?" she asked. "I'm as real as you want me to be," he replied. He came and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "Don't grieve for me," he said softly. "I don't want you to be unhappy because of me." "They killed you, Fox," she said, the tears welling in her eyes again. "I know - I know what they did, and they will pay for it eventually." "I can't face it, Fox - not without you," she said tearfully. "Yes, you can," he replied. "Now more than ever." "I, I don't understand," she said in confusion. His eyes looked deep into hers, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "You will, in time," he said softly, mysteriously. "Fox, tell me what you mean," she demanded urgently. "Fox, please tell me." He wrestled with his conscience - he wasn't supposed to tell her. To hell with it - what difference would it make? It would become obvious in time anyway. "The last night we were together - I gave you something." She looked at him, mystified. "There's a little piece of me inside you......" He stopped as the meaning of his words became clear to her. "Oh God!" she whispered, her small hands flying to her mouth. "Are you telling me I'm pregnant?" Fox nodded. "How do you know?" she asked. "I was there, remember?" He smiled, a touch of the old Fox shining through. "You do believe me, don't you?" "Why shouldn't I?" Her hands strayed unconsciously to her stomach. "How will I......" "How will you manage?" He finished the question for her. "You *will* manage - I promise you." He took her hands again. "I'll always be there - I'll never leave you." "How will I know?" she whispered. "You'll know - like you know now." "Will I be able to talk to you?" "Whenever you want to." Fox stared into her eyes again. "Just remember that I love you - that's all I ask," he said softly. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek - the merest brush of his lips against her skin. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, he was gone. The room was full of his scent - it was so strong. Had she seen a ghost? Had she been the victim of an hallucination? How did she know *they* weren't playing tricks on her? Whatever had just happened, she knew that she now had something more to remember Fox by than an old sweatshirt, a photograph and a pocketful of memories. Dana Scully smiled, picked up the sweatshirt and let herself out of his apartment. It was time to go home and start making plans. The End