From: "Heather Horn" Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2001 21:16:53 -0600 Subject: Story Revisions Source: revision Title: "Shattered Soul" Rating: G Author: Heather Horn Category: V, A, MSF Original Post Date: 09/03/00 Spoilers: "Irresistible" Summary: There is strength within forgiveness that can brighten even the darkest hour. Distribution: Anywhere and everywhere. Please keep my name attached, and let me know where you are putting it. Thank you! Feedback: Feedback? For moi? I would be honored! Please direct all of your comments to heathabear@hotmail.com. Thank you! Disclaimer: "The X-Files" is copyright Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and the FOX Network. No money is being made from this. No copyright infringement is intended. Author's Notes: Thank you to my wonderful teacher, Jennifer Fox - I am eternally grateful of you, and I remain forever in your debt. Thank you to my magnificent beta-reader, Marie Endres, for all of your hard work, kind words, and input. Marie, you are the best beta-reader anyone could possibly ask for. Thank you to Char Chaffin for your help with grammar - I owe you one. Thank you to Jewel for starting the marvelous Chuckles Scully revelation. "Shattered Soul" (1/1) By Heather Horn You know that feeling that you get when you have been on your feet all day, and your legs feel as if they could fall right off of your body at any given moment? You climb into bed, wanting nothing more than a good night's sleep, an escape from the agony of the real world. Rest is out of the question, though. It was never in the question to begin with. The sore muscles in your thighs generate a surging ache that travels up your body, through your stomach and arms, tensing your shoulders as the pain reaches your head. The night is spent tossing and turning, like a small child on Christmas Eve. For the child, though, there is mirth when the sun rises. Shiny paper flies from the delicately wrapped presents as that special toy is discovered. Sleeplessness induced by pain only brings further pain in the morning. At daybreak, the only thing to look forward to is another dose of acetaminophen. Over the past two years, many of my nights have been spent in this manner, far more than I care to remember. I have learned to deal with physical pain. Cuts and bruises are only on the surface. Though painful to the touch, they heal over time. As a scientist and a medical doctor, I could only hope to someday develop a cure for what currently ailed me. My mind. My heart. My soul. Mine. These things had been taken from me, just as your sister had been taken from you. My mission ran parallel to yours as well. I would find what I had lost, if it was the last thing that this life would allow me to do. You offered to stay, but I declined - I just wanted to sleep. As you stared into my eyes, frantically searching for some sign of life, I forced myself to look away. I regretted this action almost immediately, and slowly fixed my eyes with yours. Without ever saying a word, you knew. You knew as well as you knew how to breath that Donnie Pfaster had deeply affected me, but I would be fine. You knew that I needed to be alone, I needed to rest. You respected my wish, respected me as I know you always will. You tucked me into the strange, yet all too familiar motel bed, then pulled the covers up to my chin. As you walked to the door, your step slightly slower than usual, you whispered your standard "Good night, Scully," and added an "I'm next door if you need anything" to boot. You have been my friend and my savior, through thick and thin. I have come to trust you. Only you. As you cradled me in your arms earlier this evening, all the demons momentarily left my body. I did not want to tell you. Yanking out my wisdom teeth with a pair of pliers sounded more appealing. I wanted to be your friend, your equal. What I did not want was for you to know that I needed you. I would not tell you, I could not. As I stood before you, torn and tattered, I promised myself that, despite whatever else I did, I would not shatter. I would not let down my guard. As much as I hate to admit it, everyone breaks a promise once or twice in his or her life. I suppose I broke my own promise - part of it, anyway. I let down my guard, in front of Donnie Pfaster, in front Moe Bocks. In front of you. The funny thing is, I did not feel the least bit sorry about my broken vow. No regret, no foot-in-mouth scenario. The last promise that I broke was when I was seventeen-years-old. I had promised Charlie, who preferred to be called "Chaz" at the time, that I would pick him up from the county fair at ten o'clock. Rain began to fall by the bucketful, and I fell asleep on the couch to the pitter-patter of the raindrops. Missy and Bill were away at college, Ahab was at sea. Mom was having dinner at a friend's house about an hour away, and she was sensible enough to spend the night there. Charlie had trusted me to pick him up. Some sister I was, peacefully sleeping on the couch as Charlie was soaked to the core. The phone lines were down, so he could not even call. His friends had left the fair long ago, and Charlie was left alone. Sometime after midnight, I heard the door crack open. "Mom? Is that you?" I rubbed my eyes, sitting up on the couch. "Guess again." There stood my baby brother, drenched in enough water to fill a swimming pool. His eyes closed as he shook his head in disappointment, then he retired to his bedroom, letting out a deep, congested cough as he headed up the staircase. "Oh, my God, Chaz, I am so sorry!" I cried after him, but he was gone. I had never felt so terrible in my life, and to add to my guilty conscience, he woke up the next morning with the flu. I took care of him for a week, bought him gifts, did his chores. He claimed that he forgave me. Of course he forgave me. After all, he was the antithesis of Bill. But there is no worse feeling than knowing that you have let someone down. Did I let you down tonight? Did I disappoint you in a way that I would have deemed unimaginable prior to this case? Your warm embrace told me no. Silence surrounded us, but I heard your unspoken words none the less, clearer than the sky on a crisp autumn day: It is okay to let it all out. I am your friend. I am here for you. Even angels fall. So do FBI agents. You comforted me, your thoughts consoled me. As I lied in bed, though, my mind tells me that I need more than your approval. I need my own approval as well. I had not made any promises to anyone, not even myself, since I broke my promise to Charlie. It is easier to keep promises if you do not make them at all. Tonight, I discarded this belief, made two promises in a split second. I broke one of them just as quickly. Charlie forgave me. Could I forgive myself? My eyelids fluttered shut, and my life ran through my mind in snippets. There were heart-wrenching memories, memories of Donnie Pfaster, of my father's death, of my broken promise to Charlie. To prove that my life was not a farce, there were heart-warming memories as well. Memories of you, memories of the first time that my father called me "Starbuck". My favorite memory is of when I was a little girl, no older than four or five. I had constant nightmares, but I never screamed - it was as if even in my sleep, I knew that Bill would eternally tease me for being a baby. Instead, I would tiptoe into Mom's room, sniffling and whimpering as quietly as humanly possible. I climbed into bed with her, and she immediately knew that it was me. She embraced me, let me cry into her nightgown. When I was through, she turned on the light, scaring all the monsters away. I sat at the foot of the bed as I told her the details of the nightmare, and she brushed my long, Annie-red locks until they were as soft as silk. My hair. My eyes popped open as my hands flew directly to my head, grabbing onto clumps of hair to make sure that it was still there. Every strand of hair on my head was accounted for. My hair. Not a part of some fetishist's collection, but my hair. Mine. At that precise moment in time, I realized that I could forgive myself. I broke half of my promise, but I kept the other half better than any promise I have ever kept. I may have let my guard down, but I did not shatter. I was on the verge of cracking into a million pieces, but you caught me before I hit the ground. I knew that you were there, you were there for me, and I could count on you. You saved me. As long as I have you, I will never shatter. Events may occur that cause me to drop my guard again, but I now realize that this is not necessarily a bad thing. Forgiveness is a virtue, even in forgiving yourself. It gives a sense of pure serenity and contentment, as do you, but in a different light. I have myself, and I have you. The puzzle is complete. We have each other. Alone, we are weak and vulnerable. Sophomoric entities, searching for something ineffable to define ourselves with. Together, we create a force stronger than every demon we will ever face, a bond unbreakable, even against lies, nightmares, and broken promises. The journey continues. Together. THE END (1/1) Thank you for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoyed it! Please send all of your comments - kisses and flames are both greatly appreciated - to heathabear@hotmail.com. Thank you very much! You can find all of my fan fiction and much more at my website, Mulder + Scully = True Love http://mstruelove.tripod.com