TITLE: Know No Heaven AUTHOR: Darkstryder [ upyours1013@rock.com ] CATEGORY: VAR [ Mulder/Scully Romance ] SPOILERS: Fifth season. A piece of dialogue taken from "One Breath." SUMMARY: Pure Mulderangst. There's really no other way to explain it. DISCLAIMER: Don't sue! I'm a starving artist! All herein belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen. WARNING: Serious Depression!Mulder ahead. ==================== know no heaven darkstryder ==================== Rock on gold dust woman Take your silver spoon Did your grave One less challenge To pick your path and I'll pray Wake up in the morning See your sunlight burning to go down Lousy lovers pick their prey But they never cry out loud hole "gold dust woman" ==================== I am the walking dead. I am an Immortal, one who feasts on the rich and warm blood of those I love, draining them dry and leaving lifeless corpses behind me like a trail. I am dead. My body still moves, blood still pumps through my veins--- Let me die, dammit ---but all I see around me is the darkness. I feel a coldness that is neither snow nor icecream, something deeper that leaves me numb, groping through the fucking dark like a blind man. Endless searching. My eyes are blinded by the light that keeps fading, the world going darker darker darker--- I hate what I've become ---and then silent, my only thoughts those of pain and remorse and shame. I was manipulated. I was a damn puppet. I served the devil without knowledge. "Mulder." Her voice came from the darkness, a blinding white light that left me raw and open. "Mulder, it's so dark in here." Yes, it's very dark in here. Ghosts fear the light. The undead are burned by it. She moved, her feet not even touching the floor. A fucking avenging angel come to take me to death. Any Hell would be better than this emptiness that wouldn't leave. Her hands reached out and seemed to glow without any light. Porceline white skin. I hoped that none of the blood would stain those. "Mul---" She stopped, face freezing. I took that split second to admire her perfect straight Roman nose, flaming red hair that I, with my color-blindness, could not see, and liquid blue eyes that could be cold and warm at the same time. She was beautiful to me. She had been the second she walked through the gates of Hell and into the basement, where I promptly drained her dry. And still she remained, even then. "Mulder." Her voice was a whisper. "What are you going to do with that gun?" My arm lifted, but I could not feel it. I felt nothing, only that coldness that would not leave me. "I don't know." I didn't know what I was planning on doing with it---Hey, Mulder, planning on shooting your fucking brains out again? Didn't work last time. Maybe if I had no brains like I had no heart I could forget about my parent's sins, my happy . . . sister? . . . with her wonderful life and loving "father" while I was out looking for twenty-six years---over twenty-six fraggin'years--- lost in this deep dark well, and my own dark deeds mixed in with this bunch. One big happy Mulder family. "Were you planning on using that on me?" My heart tightened, suffocating me. Finally, I felt something, something harsh and painful, but something nonetheless. "Never you, Scully. I"---my voice wavered ( damn you, weak man! )--- "couldn't do that to you." I had already killed her. Why would a gun matter now? Her eyes never left mine, and I could feel myself start to fall into them, the crystal orbs that offered to shelter me from the cold . . . "On yourself?" she asked, moving closer to me. I couldn't let her touch me. I could lose myself so easily, and I needed all I had left. The few shards of glass from a shattered heart. I didn't want to cut Scully. I didn't want to cut myself. When I didn't answer, she glided across the floor and sat beside me on the couch, fluid-like movements that reminded me of a cat. Her hot breath touched my ear and burned me, causing both pain and something I thought that I had buried long ago surface. "Mulder," she whispered, "give me the gun." Don't let go. Don't let go. I could pull the trigger now and end it all, but my fucking body wouldn't cooperate. The gun lay stiff and heavy in my paralyzed hand, useless. Her hand trailed down my arm, feeling like silk and the whispers of ghosts as each touch burned me. I closed my eyes and felt her, smelt her, and saw her through the dark. The gun dropped from my hand as hers slid into it. The other hand reached out and touched my face, drawing me closer to her. I needed the pain. I needed to feel. I needed to punish myself. I needed her to burn me. "Your heart rate is too fast," she murmured, drawing away slightly. Did she see the hunger in my eyes? Did she feel it, too? No time to consider the consequences. I leaned in closely and pulled her towards me, tasting her hot, salty lips. I felt her gasp, drawing in air, but then she wrapped her arms around my neck and brought me closer. My entire body was on fire, pressed tightly against hers. But I liked it. Oh, I liked it. No angel was she, but instead a fallen angel. She burned me but I loved it, I loved her but I couldn't, I loved her but I didn't want it. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. Her soft skin and hot breath and whispering touch were smothering me. I was sinking lower and lower into a well, clawing at the walls in a vain attempt of escape. *I* was bleeding, and *she* was bleeding in this ending vortex of darkness and agony as I clawed, tearing the skin on my fingers. I shoved her away, and she moved back, sucking the heat away from me and enveloping herself in it. Her expression was a mixture of fright, confusion, and hurt. "Mulder?" she asked in a small voice. I felt my heart break at those small words. Pain. I knew pain. "I'm sorry," I managed to choke out, "it's not you, it's not, it's me. I can't . . . I just can't." Damn. I did not want to cry. Not here, not now. Well, Foxy boy, you wanted pain, and you got it. No. I didn't want this pain. I wanted her to burn me, to light me aflame. I didn't want to hurt her. But I didn't know how to make her understand that. "Oh." Scully moved away again, deeper into the shadows. A feeling of panic came over me for a second; was she leaving me? "Don't go," I whispered. If she left, then I knew that I would not see the sun rise. In my mind's eye I felt her bite my neck and drink the hot life from me. I saw her choke on it and fall, dead, to the cold floor, eyes like glass and rag-doll body limp. How many more to die before my thirst was quenched? She stared at me for a second, and in her eyes I saw the reflection of a man drenched in his own sweat and tears with a haunted expression on his pale face, curled into a ball on a leather couch. With a start I realized that I was looking at myself. I didn't even recognize my own reflection. . . . I hate what I've become . . . Who was I? With a cry that tore my throat, I buried my face in my hands. When had I lost myself? When had I lost her? Voices from over thirty-odd years screamed through my mind. Each were taunting me, people that I had killed over and over again. And again. And again. I felt a warm touch on my back that traveled to my hair, my brow. She pressed herself against me, whispering soft words that didn't make it past my ears and the screaming, just her faded voice. From behind my eyelids the world shattered. From beyond Time and Space her voice started to grow louder, breaking through the vortex: "I won't leave you. It'll be okay. Shh, it'll be okay. I'm here, I'm here." She anchored me back to the ground, piecing back together the pieces of my heart and soul as she rebuilt the Earth with her touch and her voice and her love. My heart filled with warmth and the love that she gave me which I returned. And she didn't leave. And I was reborn. ==================== upyours1013@rock.com littlegraymen@mindless.com I need bodies to fill my audience. Don't make me come and get you. http://members.tripod.com/~Darkstryder/index-2.html ====================