Title: For A Reason (1/1)
Author: Pita1013
Rating: G
Classification: V
Spoilers: Orison, Goldberg, Ghosts Stole X-Mas, Amor Fati
Keywords: none
Summary: After meeting Henry Weems and Reverend Orison,
Scully finds herself soul-searching late one night.
Author's Notes: This is fanfic number two for me, and
as before I plead that you be gentle. I live for feedback
so please email me at PitaM13@cs.com with comments and/or
suggestions. Flames will be used to light candles or
incense, as the situation demands.
********************
Apartment of Dana Scully
3:31 a.m.
Sleep is a wonderful thing.
I believe this wholeheartedly. I still can't fathom how
my partner functions with so little rest. I need hours
upon hours to really feel good. I can function on less,
even though I hate to. But it's a damn good thing I have
the ability, since I won't be getting any tonight.
*...everything happens for a reason, even if we don't know
what it is right now...*
*...everything happens for a reason...*
The words have been shooting through my head since I
climbed into bed hours ago. This is my first night back
in my own apartment since Pfaster and I had our impromptu
wrestling match, and I'm sure that the memory is what is
keeping me awake long past the point of common sense.
But no matter what reason, I'm wide awake and thinking of
two people that shouldn't have this much affect on me, but
do anyway.
One is Henry Weems, possibly the luckiest man in Chicago.
He told a sick boy that everything happens for a reason
even if we don't understand why. That boy passed those
words of wisdom on to me. I liked it then, the idea that
there was a plan in motion. Whether it was just cause and
effect like Mulder thought, or it was more, it gave a bit
of hope.
The other is Reverend Orison, who managed to shatter that
brief moment of hopefulness. He repeated those same words
not long after, but this time the meaning seemed...
malevolent somehow, even though the man thought he was
doing the will of God.
I thought I was doing the will of God...
My mind is wandering again. Nothing is cohesive at 3 in
the morning. My thoughts head unwillingly toward the
city morgue, even though he has been buried by now. The
demon who walked like a man. What reason could there
possibly be for a... a creature like Donnie Pfaster? I
can't think of one.
Or here's a better one. What reason was there for a
perfectly capable FBI agent to gun down a subdued and
therefore harmless man. Granted he was my worst nightmare
in flesh, but he was also under Mulder's steady gun. He
wasn't going to hurt me anymore.
But I pulled the trigger. What was the reason?
My thoughts wander away from me again. I haven't been
this flighty for a long time, I realize. Not since Las
Vegas when something happened to me that I can't remember
and not one Gunman will enlighten me. For the last couple
of weeks since Pfaster I have been just fine, sleeping the
first couple of nights on Mulder's couch and the rest of
the time at my mother's house.
My thoughts wander away from me again.
Does everything really happen for a reason?
I think of Diana Fowley, killed because her heart had
thawed a little too much. Why did she make the sacrifice
when she did? She had opportunities before to make some
kind of amends for what she did to hurt Mulder... why
then, when she knew her life would be done as soon as she
gave me that keycard. I allow myself to feel pain at her
death as she turned from the path of evil...
Oh, I sound like a gothic novel or something.
Gothic... My thoughts turn to a enormous house that
managed to scare me more than anything else in the past
few years. I had been frightened before... but total and
unreasoning terror hadn't plagued me for a long time.
That house was terrifying. Once again I claw for a good
reason for that whole night to have happened. What was
the reason that eluded me? Was it just to teach me that
I was capable of bone-numbing fear? Was it to teach me
something about my relationship with Mulder? I hope not
If crawling around leaving a blood trail like some
deranged slug was a learning experience, I think I'll be
passing on the next class.
There can't be a deep and meaningful reason for every
single thing that has happened, can there? I mean, if
every trivial thing had a reason, isn't that a little bit
of overkill? Or a lot, for that matter?
Something dawns on me now, out of the blue. Or the black,
if you consider what time it is.
Henry Weems taught Richie that everything happens for a
reason. He built a complicated Goldberg device to show
that. The simplest thing was done in the most complicated
of ways.
Mulder and I are a Goldberg device.
It's so obvious that it's staggering. Shocking in its
total simplicity.
We've been rattling around, accomplishing the impossible,
never doing things the easy way for as long as I can
remember. We are the device, heading towards an ending
that will complete the cycle. Unlike Henry's devices,
though, we have no idea where things are headed. The
final act is still curtained.
But I have this feeling that the device is starting to
approach the last legs, that soon the final effect will
be achieved, like Richie's basketball landing in the hoop
without a hitch.
I feel the end in sight.
I don't know what that end will be, but it is coming fast.
What I do know is that suddenly, my hope is restored.
In one sleepless night I have regained faith. I can get
up in the morning and go to work with the knowledge that
I can go on without fear of the future.
After all, everything happens for a reason.
********
FINIS
Author: Pita1013
Rating: G
Classification: V
Spoilers: Orison, Goldberg, Ghosts Stole X-Mas, Amor Fati
Keywords: none
Summary: After meeting Henry Weems and Reverend Orison,
Scully finds herself soul-searching late one night.
Author's Notes: This is fanfic number two for me, and
as before I plead that you be gentle. I live for feedback
so please email me at PitaM13@cs.com with comments and/or
suggestions. Flames will be used to light candles or
incense, as the situation demands.
********************
Apartment of Dana Scully
3:31 a.m.
Sleep is a wonderful thing.
I believe this wholeheartedly. I still can't fathom how
my partner functions with so little rest. I need hours
upon hours to really feel good. I can function on less,
even though I hate to. But it's a damn good thing I have
the ability, since I won't be getting any tonight.
*...everything happens for a reason, even if we don't know
what it is right now...*
*...everything happens for a reason...*
The words have been shooting through my head since I
climbed into bed hours ago. This is my first night back
in my own apartment since Pfaster and I had our impromptu
wrestling match, and I'm sure that the memory is what is
keeping me awake long past the point of common sense.
But no matter what reason, I'm wide awake and thinking of
two people that shouldn't have this much affect on me, but
do anyway.
One is Henry Weems, possibly the luckiest man in Chicago.
He told a sick boy that everything happens for a reason
even if we don't understand why. That boy passed those
words of wisdom on to me. I liked it then, the idea that
there was a plan in motion. Whether it was just cause and
effect like Mulder thought, or it was more, it gave a bit
of hope.
The other is Reverend Orison, who managed to shatter that
brief moment of hopefulness. He repeated those same words
not long after, but this time the meaning seemed...
malevolent somehow, even though the man thought he was
doing the will of God.
I thought I was doing the will of God...
My mind is wandering again. Nothing is cohesive at 3 in
the morning. My thoughts head unwillingly toward the
city morgue, even though he has been buried by now. The
demon who walked like a man. What reason could there
possibly be for a... a creature like Donnie Pfaster? I
can't think of one.
Or here's a better one. What reason was there for a
perfectly capable FBI agent to gun down a subdued and
therefore harmless man. Granted he was my worst nightmare
in flesh, but he was also under Mulder's steady gun. He
wasn't going to hurt me anymore.
But I pulled the trigger. What was the reason?
My thoughts wander away from me again. I haven't been
this flighty for a long time, I realize. Not since Las
Vegas when something happened to me that I can't remember
and not one Gunman will enlighten me. For the last couple
of weeks since Pfaster I have been just fine, sleeping the
first couple of nights on Mulder's couch and the rest of
the time at my mother's house.
My thoughts wander away from me again.
Does everything really happen for a reason?
I think of Diana Fowley, killed because her heart had
thawed a little too much. Why did she make the sacrifice
when she did? She had opportunities before to make some
kind of amends for what she did to hurt Mulder... why
then, when she knew her life would be done as soon as she
gave me that keycard. I allow myself to feel pain at her
death as she turned from the path of evil...
Oh, I sound like a gothic novel or something.
Gothic... My thoughts turn to a enormous house that
managed to scare me more than anything else in the past
few years. I had been frightened before... but total and
unreasoning terror hadn't plagued me for a long time.
That house was terrifying. Once again I claw for a good
reason for that whole night to have happened. What was
the reason that eluded me? Was it just to teach me that
I was capable of bone-numbing fear? Was it to teach me
something about my relationship with Mulder? I hope not
If crawling around leaving a blood trail like some
deranged slug was a learning experience, I think I'll be
passing on the next class.
There can't be a deep and meaningful reason for every
single thing that has happened, can there? I mean, if
every trivial thing had a reason, isn't that a little bit
of overkill? Or a lot, for that matter?
Something dawns on me now, out of the blue. Or the black,
if you consider what time it is.
Henry Weems taught Richie that everything happens for a
reason. He built a complicated Goldberg device to show
that. The simplest thing was done in the most complicated
of ways.
Mulder and I are a Goldberg device.
It's so obvious that it's staggering. Shocking in its
total simplicity.
We've been rattling around, accomplishing the impossible,
never doing things the easy way for as long as I can
remember. We are the device, heading towards an ending
that will complete the cycle. Unlike Henry's devices,
though, we have no idea where things are headed. The
final act is still curtained.
But I have this feeling that the device is starting to
approach the last legs, that soon the final effect will
be achieved, like Richie's basketball landing in the hoop
without a hitch.
I feel the end in sight.
I don't know what that end will be, but it is coming fast.
What I do know is that suddenly, my hope is restored.
In one sleepless night I have regained faith. I can get
up in the morning and go to work with the knowledge that
I can go on without fear of the future.
After all, everything happens for a reason.
********
FINIS