Title: One Foot In Front of the Other
Author: LadyHope
E-Mail: BigBadMissParker@thepretender.com
Fandom: X-Files
Spoilers for DeadAlive (4/1/01)
Rating: PG
Archive: N/A
Distribution: Please ask first.
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files or the Juliana Theory.
Feedback: Very much welcome. I would appreciate it so I can fix what doesn't work and keep what does.
*~*
some things can never be explained
why does your love remain unchanged
cause i know it wouldn't be the same without you
sleep seems a dream away
and a year too late
words that can't be spoken
stream off your face
-constellation, by the Juliana Theory
*~*
I just heard the news.
I hear he didn't need the vaccine after all.
So much for that.
Limping up the hall to where she waits with him, I wonder, where will I stand? It seems now that the place I have held for these months is suddenly gone. And I am left hanging here in limbo, no solid ground beneath my feet, just waiting for gravity to suck me back down.
One foot in front of other, John. The scuffed tiles of this hallway seem to stretch for miles.
I want to see it for myself; has the unimaginable happened? Has a miracle taken place before our eyes? I wonder deep inside if I really want it to have happened. In a dark, twisted way, I hope that it was all a mix-up. Sorry, ma'am, just an equipment malfunction. He's a vegetable after all.
One foot in front of other, John. Before I realize it, the door is in front of me. Slightly cracked, it seems to be the doorway to fate. What prize seems to be behind door number one? I have the sinking feeling I'll be taking home a shabby consolation prize this time around. Sorry, no passable semblance of an okay life this time, friend, but you can have this crummy old desk job and life of being alone if that'll make you feel better.
I put out one hand to push open the door, but I cannot bring myself to give it the tiny nudge. Do I want to see it coming, or would I rather let someone let me know later that I'm officially on my own again? Do I want to take it like a man, or am I going to let it end with a whimper?
One foot in front of other, John.
I have to laugh at myself for a moment; I once planned to find him as quick as I could and get out of that miserable cave in the basement while there was time. Now I find myself wishing I had taken my time. How was I to know that what I thought was the death knell for my career was the beginning of something new and amazing? The times haven't been easy, but they have been worthwhile.
I hadn't thought I would know love again any time soon, but here I am. The woman that waits on the other side of this door holds my heart in one tear-streaked hand. Ours is - was - not a relationship of lovers or of partners, but one of friendship. That has been enough for me. But with this, I don't know that even that will last.
The crack in the door seems a mile wide before me. With a deep breath, I decide that I can't wait any longer. As with anything painful, the anticipation of something is often much worse than the ache it brings.
One foot in front of other, John. It won't be as bad as you think.
I was wrong.
She sits there, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, his hand clasped tightly in hers. She smiles softly at me. His eyes are closed, but I know it was no false alarm. He has returned.
For a fleeting moment, I want to rush to him and rip out all the tubes and IVs. I want to end it right here. I want to watch the last rattling breath tear through his chest and see it rise no more. My heart is filled with a murderous rage, and then as quickly as it came, it's gone again.
No words pass between them. But the tears on her face, the clasping of their hands; they speak far louder than words ever could. And as I see it in her eyes, I know there is no place for me here. Was there ever? I'm not so sure. She loves him too much; she always has. My heart pounds in my ears, blood roaring through my head.
My feet don't seem to want to move. I manage a perfunctory smile as I try to get moving.
One foot in front of other, John.
As I close the door softly behind me, it is all I can do not to empty my gun into the wall.
I thought I wanted to find him; part of me now wishes he had stayed dead. Maybe then my heart wouldn't be ripping itself into a thousand tiny pieces. Almost like a sick version of the childhood game: he loves her, she loves you not, he's back, you're gone, he loves her, she loves you not.
Why am I so upset? It's not as if it meant anything to me. I wish I could convince myself of that. People come and go. Jobs come and go. Life goes on. It always has and it always will.
So why is it so hard to walk down this hall, away from the one person I can't bear to leave and the one person I can't bear to see?
One foot in front of other, John.
Author: LadyHope
E-Mail: BigBadMissParker@thepretender.com
Fandom: X-Files
Spoilers for DeadAlive (4/1/01)
Rating: PG
Archive: N/A
Distribution: Please ask first.
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files or the Juliana Theory.
Feedback: Very much welcome. I would appreciate it so I can fix what doesn't work and keep what does.
*~*
some things can never be explained
why does your love remain unchanged
cause i know it wouldn't be the same without you
sleep seems a dream away
and a year too late
words that can't be spoken
stream off your face
-constellation, by the Juliana Theory
*~*
I just heard the news.
I hear he didn't need the vaccine after all.
So much for that.
Limping up the hall to where she waits with him, I wonder, where will I stand? It seems now that the place I have held for these months is suddenly gone. And I am left hanging here in limbo, no solid ground beneath my feet, just waiting for gravity to suck me back down.
One foot in front of other, John. The scuffed tiles of this hallway seem to stretch for miles.
I want to see it for myself; has the unimaginable happened? Has a miracle taken place before our eyes? I wonder deep inside if I really want it to have happened. In a dark, twisted way, I hope that it was all a mix-up. Sorry, ma'am, just an equipment malfunction. He's a vegetable after all.
One foot in front of other, John. Before I realize it, the door is in front of me. Slightly cracked, it seems to be the doorway to fate. What prize seems to be behind door number one? I have the sinking feeling I'll be taking home a shabby consolation prize this time around. Sorry, no passable semblance of an okay life this time, friend, but you can have this crummy old desk job and life of being alone if that'll make you feel better.
I put out one hand to push open the door, but I cannot bring myself to give it the tiny nudge. Do I want to see it coming, or would I rather let someone let me know later that I'm officially on my own again? Do I want to take it like a man, or am I going to let it end with a whimper?
One foot in front of other, John.
I have to laugh at myself for a moment; I once planned to find him as quick as I could and get out of that miserable cave in the basement while there was time. Now I find myself wishing I had taken my time. How was I to know that what I thought was the death knell for my career was the beginning of something new and amazing? The times haven't been easy, but they have been worthwhile.
I hadn't thought I would know love again any time soon, but here I am. The woman that waits on the other side of this door holds my heart in one tear-streaked hand. Ours is - was - not a relationship of lovers or of partners, but one of friendship. That has been enough for me. But with this, I don't know that even that will last.
The crack in the door seems a mile wide before me. With a deep breath, I decide that I can't wait any longer. As with anything painful, the anticipation of something is often much worse than the ache it brings.
One foot in front of other, John. It won't be as bad as you think.
I was wrong.
She sits there, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, his hand clasped tightly in hers. She smiles softly at me. His eyes are closed, but I know it was no false alarm. He has returned.
For a fleeting moment, I want to rush to him and rip out all the tubes and IVs. I want to end it right here. I want to watch the last rattling breath tear through his chest and see it rise no more. My heart is filled with a murderous rage, and then as quickly as it came, it's gone again.
No words pass between them. But the tears on her face, the clasping of their hands; they speak far louder than words ever could. And as I see it in her eyes, I know there is no place for me here. Was there ever? I'm not so sure. She loves him too much; she always has. My heart pounds in my ears, blood roaring through my head.
My feet don't seem to want to move. I manage a perfunctory smile as I try to get moving.
One foot in front of other, John.
As I close the door softly behind me, it is all I can do not to empty my gun into the wall.
I thought I wanted to find him; part of me now wishes he had stayed dead. Maybe then my heart wouldn't be ripping itself into a thousand tiny pieces. Almost like a sick version of the childhood game: he loves her, she loves you not, he's back, you're gone, he loves her, she loves you not.
Why am I so upset? It's not as if it meant anything to me. I wish I could convince myself of that. People come and go. Jobs come and go. Life goes on. It always has and it always will.
So why is it so hard to walk down this hall, away from the one person I can't bear to leave and the one person I can't bear to see?
One foot in front of other, John.