From: Laura Bontrager Date: Tue, 23 Feb 1999 00:53:53 -0500 (CDT) Subject: Rift9:::Resolution (1/1) --THIS IS THE END! Title: Rift9::: Resolution (1/1) Author: RocketMan >lebontrager Co-Producer: Melissa Kennedy >scullee@email.com< Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended. ~~~~ Resolution ~~~~ Mulder looked out at the sky from their bedroom window, wishing away the grey clouds and heavy air. He turned back to the empty room and grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor, then pulled on a black T-shirt, frowning at the toothpaste stain on the hem. Turning back to the bathroom, he pushed his towels into the clothes hamper, along with whatever else was on the floor, clean or otherwise, trying to keep the bedroom fairly neat. Scully hated things tossed around when she was bedridden. He found it pathetic that he would *know* how his wife liked things when she was bedridden. It said way too much about their life. Moving quickly back to the bed, Mulder yanked up the covers, stuffed the pillows nonchalantly under the comforter, then stepped back to admire his work. Nodding to himself, he strode out the door. Scully and Gracie were waiting for him. ~~~~ "Scully, I still don't think this is a good idea." She glared up at him, then coughed painfully, holding her chest as it left her aching. "You're still not up to it." She shook her head and looked to Grace, watching the little girl ease carefully out of the hospital bed. "We need to do this while there's still no one around." Mulder clenched his fists, then bent over her, taking her small body up in his arms. She remained limp, but clutched his shirt with her fingers as he lowered her to the wheelchair. She was still too weak to walk, but her lungs filled with fluid easily if she laid down. "Thanks," she said and kissed his cheek. "I hate this." He grinned. "I know you do. I'm trying to make you as annoyed as possible. That way, you'll have to get better." She pinched his stomach, then glanced once more to her daughter, making sure the little girl was all right. Grace's arm was kept tight in an ace bandage, mainly so that she wouldn't move and aggravate her bullet wound any more than necessary. Her arm was held in a sling around her neck, and she complained about it all the time, pulling it off and letting her injured shoulder swing free. Mulder sighed. "Gracie, put that back on!" She glanced up guiltily to her father, then slipped the sling back around her neck, sighing. "It itches, Daddy." He said nothing, merely looked at her. She pouted and moved to her mother's wheelchair, running her fingers through the spokes. "Baby, don't do that. I don't want your fingers to get caught," Scully said, taking her hand gently and putting it atop the armrest. Gracie squirmed and pulled away, darting ahead of them. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mulder said faintly, from somewhere above her. "I can't let Gracie be afraid of movie theatres and malls her entire life, Mulder." He grinned and squatted down beside her. "I wouldn't mind that. Think of how much money it would save us in the long run, if Gracie never wanted to go to the mall." Scully rolled her eyes and tapped his nose. "Push, Mulder. Let's get going." "Aye-aye, Captain," he muttered and stood up, rolling her out the door. ~~~~ The mall was deserted, closed down to make sure of its safety, though the biohazard signs and tanks had long been gone. She watched it come into view through the passenger window, her eyes wide and her lips parted with stunned surprise as she streaked the glass. "Daddy, I don't want to be here," she said softly and closed her eyes. From the backseat, Scully could see her daughter's tight face through the side mirror, and she reached out and touched her tiny hand. Grace's eyes flew open and she looked back at her mother, then let her lip tremble with fear. "Momma. . ." "We can do this Gracie. . .it's going to be okay." Grace faced front again, finding no savior in her mother's calm face and steady hands. Mulder parked and unlocked the doors, then manuevered the wheelchair out of the trunk and into its position. He lifted Scully into it carefully, then slammed the door shut behind her. Grace was still in her seat, her safety belt clenched between her small fingers. Mulder opened the door and gestured for her to get out of the car. After much hesitation, Grace climbed out, sighing to herself. Scully reached for her and grasped her daughter's hand again, squeezing it tightly. "We can do this, baby." Her words finally registered with Grace and the little girl looked up, bewildered. "You're afraid, Momma?" Scully gathered her daughter into her arms as best she could, nodding and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. "Of course, baby. I have bad dreams about this place, too." She felt the child shiver and nod against her, then pull away. "We can do this, Momma," she whispered and reached out for her father's hand. Mulder gripped hers tightly and smiled, then pushed Scully toward the entrance, being careful to take slow, measured steps, going at a pace that Grace herself could set. When they reached the front, Mulder pushed a panel set into the brick and the automatic doors swung open to allow them in. As FBI agents, Mulder and Scully had aquired special permission to enter the mall while it was closed down, and there was no threat of the contamination anywhere. However, the mall manager had decided it was best for business to let the fear and stories die down before reopening. They went through the doors, Scully's chair wheels' squeaking slightly on the newly polished floor, and Grace's sneakers scuffing it. Mulder paused in front of the long hallway extending down to the movie theatre, waiting for Scully and Grace to get their bearings. Grace clutched his leg and stood there, eyes closed and body tensed, for about five long minutes. Scully watched her resolutely. ~~~~ It was dark. The air smelled stale of sweat and gunpowder and chemical cleaners. Her memory supplied the people. Scully saw them all, walking to the ticket window, perched in the middle of the mall, idly chatting with friends and relatives, or moving about in the sea of faces like fish in schools. She smelled popcorn again, the sickly sweet of butter and the tang of salt. She could taste it in her mouth, every kernel that was stuck in her teeth, each piece of soft yellow body melting on her tongue. She knew she would never eat popcorn again. There were the faces, the laughter, the crowds, the children ahead, and her own daughter running back and forth from a display of Godzilla, then back to her. She saw the man at the little box, taking the tickets. She heard them rip in half. It sounded just as deafening as the bullets ripping through her body, through her daughter's body, as they exploded from guns. It was dark. She felt sick. She tasted popcorn. She heard laughter and screams. She reached out and clutched Mulder's pant leg, making him stop. She blinked. They were on the wheelchair ramp going up into the theatres, the ticket counter and concession stands far behind them. Grace was leaning heavily on her father's arm, practically suspended from his hand. Scully brushed hair from her baby's face, smiled softly and sorrowfully at her. "We can do this," Gracie whispered. Scully nodded, then faced forward again. Mulder kept pushing. ~~~~ Grace saw it big and looming in front of her: the screen. Grey-white and partially shielded by a curtain that dripped in blood, it hung there. She remembered glancing up to that screen from the sticky floor, looking up and seeing that screen towering above her, mocking her smallness. It was laughing at her. It was ripped through with bullets, mortally wounded for its sin. She was crawling on the floor, Will was right behind her, she was feeling his breath hot on her neck, his hands clipping her feet as he gained on her, the crunch of her knees against popcorn shells. There was the door and it gleamed, it was shiny silver and beckoning with a red red hand, its letters proclaiming their attempts for escape. She breathed out and pushed it open. And she looked back. Her mother was not there. She looked back. Rows, rows, rows, seats of a faded blood red backed in dark plastic, jutting obstacles between her and her mother. She looked back. Her mother was falling, jerking as metal sliced right through her, right in her, the blood spurting, falling like a rain shower over her still body. Like sparks falling from the sky on July 4th, colored and bright. Falling and sprinkling her mother's stil body. Her so still body. She moved back, lurched back, but the door was open and Will was shoving her and she thought she heard it. . .thought she heard her Daddy. Daddy. "Grace!" She blinked. She had stopped in the middle of the aisle, blocking her mother's wheelchair, tight and tense, stiff and unblinking. She moved aside, let her father push her mother on down, then followed them. She shivered. ~~~~ Scully saw the fresh floor, the shiny black surface, the newly upholstered chairs. All of it once splattered, drenched, shining, with her blood. It was somehow hollow now. Grace slid onto her lap, tucked her small head into Scully's stomach, shaking. "We'll be all right," Scully whispered, still staring at the clean clean spot. Mulder moved away, let her remain in the aisle there, staring. Grace began to cry, soft sobs that fell from her in waterfalls, her eyes swimming in lakes of relief, of guilt, of sorrow, of fear. "It's over, baby. It's over now." With her daughter's loud crying masking her own, Scully let their catharsis begin, gripping Grace with all her weakened strength. "It's finally all over." ~~~~ Two Months Later ~~~~ The place was alive, thriving, moving like a dance. She walked slowly, still unsure of herself, her strength. Her little girl gripped her father's fingers with her small hands, not running ahead as usual. The family stood in the entrance, watching the people shuffle by with indifference, taking in the small details. The smell of cotton candy this time. The taste of mashed potatoes from dinner this time. The sea of faces just like last time. The fear no longer a moving, breathing thing, but a soft coil of tenderness in their guts -- this time. Mulder followed them in, watching his two women as they took in their surroundings, as they adjusted themselves to the feel of this fast, surreal mall. He saw his daughter's eyes narrow, then her head turn away. He wondered if Grace was thinking about running. She walked over to her mother, calmly took her hand, then began walking forward, past the shops and people, past the benches and security men, through the maze of the sea of faces. A bright carousel stood in the midst of the craziness, like a beacon of light across a rocky stormy ocean. "I want to ride the carousel, Momma." Scully looked down, smoothed the hair from her daughter's forehead, then nodded. "Let's go ride the carousel." ~~~~ Mulder stood as he saw the carousel come towards him, preparing to wave at his brave little girl. As it slowly started up, spinning lazily, he saw them both, seated on a dark stallion, roses twined in its shining hair, nostrils flared in indignation. They both waved, both smiled, both reclaiming their joy. He watched it circle around, felt that thunderous moment stamped into his heart forever. He saw their spirits, alive and stampeding, throwing their heads in the wind and riding into the sunset. He saw their souls, healing. ~~~~ end of Rift no more--Melissa! adios RM ~~~~~~~~~~ "In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven." --Matthew 5:16 ~~~~~~~~~~ http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Shire/5007/ Come check out my web page ~~~~~~~~~~