Title: Dark Author: Andrina (aka FireLily) Feedback: Is what brightens my days (XandrinaH@AOL.com) Spoilers: Nope Disclaimer: Not mine, except for the girl who has no name. Rating: PG Category: Angst **WARNING** Character death. If this bothers you, forewarned is forearmed, and just remember I warned you. In capital letters, no less! Summary: Die are cast Author's Notes: Does anyone read these besides me? I hope so. I was thinking of making this part of a series. It would probably stand somewhere near the end of the series, but I would like to know if I should bother before I begin. ThanX to Meg, who took my Mulder-muse and put him to work so I could use my Scully-muse, and to Judy, who told me to get off my ass and write something two years ago. I did, and I haven't stopped yet. Luv you guys! And away we go.... ------- Dark ------- Her lipstick is too dark. She was perfect the day she was born, all soft skin and red hair and hazel eyes. Tiny fingers and tiny toes and a tiny rosebud mouth with a lower lip that we knew was going to be pouty. She would fashion the Mulder-pout into something much more dangerous. But now her lipstick is too dark. That lower lip trembles as she says to me, "I'm going out. Going dancing. Don't wait up." Shw was the pale and dutiful daughter this morning at the cemetary in her appropriate mourning garb. Dark dress, pale skin, long hair darkened with age pulled back into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. No make-up. She didn't shed a tear. So stoic, so strong. I see so much of myself in her. Her heart on her sleeve while her face is impossible to read. Her eyes glazed over half-way through Psalm 23, somewhere around the 'Valley of the Shadow of Death' part, tuning the scene out. She was exploring her guilt complex. The one she inherited with the hazel eyes and pouty lips. When it was over, she threw a single perfect black rose into the grave after the coffin was loweres and left. Not a word to anyone. Just got in her car and left. She was on the couch when I got home. "I'm going out. Going dancing. Don't wait up." Gone is the black dress and sleek bun. Standing before me is a teenage goddess of fashion, and all in a royal blue. Her dark curls are loose, and graze the middle of her thighs. And her lipstick is too dark. "How can you do this," I ask, my voice rough to my ears. "After all-" "After all I've been through this week I deserve this." She turns toward the door. I grab her arm and turn her to face me. "I just buried-" Her eyes are dark with anger as she cuts in. "How *dare* you? *You* didn't bury anyone. *I* buried my *Father*," she says, her voice menacing. Then her eyes are hazel again. "And I don't know you," she says quietly. She gently lifts my hand off of her arm. Her burgundy lips twist into a grimmace of a smile. "And I want you out of my house." "But I...I'm your-" "I know who you were. You were Scully. My ever-elusive and enigmatic mother. Ask me if I care." Her tone is light. Damnit, she's *enjoying* this. "And you were the reason I buried him this morning. *Me*. *I* did that. He *was* your Mulder. But he *died* my Father." Shw looks at me with wide, hazel eyes. Mulder's eyes. Thye are cold. "And I want you out of our home by the time I get back." With that, she turns and goes, shutting the door quietly behind her. And all I can think is, it's too dark. Her lipstick is too dark.