April 4,1999
Mesa Verde, Colorado
8:20 pm
* * * * * *
Face the fears one by one, touch them and let them go.
This is the beginning, this moment is new. It's time for
a change now. Chase down your freedom, lift up your
voice. This is your moment of choice. --Margaret Becker
* * * * * *
The sun was setting. It hung low, streaks of red, pink and orange
dancing like liquid fire across the sky. It had been so long since Allen
had seen a sunset like this. A sunset come alive, lending its fire to
the earth tones of the land; the soft reds, ambers, rich loam browns,
and bleached tans that were the natural condition in this land of wind
and sun. He sat near the edge of an outcropping, one that he had shared
with another so many years ago.
It was unsettling, being here. The land was the same-- the same shape
and contours. It was the small things- trees in the wrong places, people
that seemed like they should be there, but weren't.
He'd come intending to put a conclusion on this part of his life, but he
found he was have difficulty taking the final step. He was shocked by
the odd combination the village represented as they had walked up. Worn
but not broken, he could easily pretend that he was looking at the
village in early morning before everyone had risen. But the truth of his
world would not let that image last.
He'd held back as Mulder and Scully explored the site. But even as he
stood there, Allen could see the fuzzy outlines, the faded glimpses of
actors fleeting across a stage kept dim by eons of time and the
circumstances of their lives. He closed his eyes to those images. He
didn't want to see the ghosts...so many ghosts left behind.
Pyka stirred next to him. Mulder and Scully were finished; he could hear
them walking up behind him. Allen lifted his arm away from the dog's
side and she quickly darted off to meet the couple. He could hear their
soft murmurs of "Good girl..." as they obligingly took their turns
scratching behind Pyka's ears. Once satisfied, she darted off again,
this time in search of an ever-elusive lizard that had been taunting her
all day.
Allen didn't turn around, didn't take his eyes off the setting sun.
Scully spoke. "It's lovely, isn't it?"
"Yes it is." Allen agreed. Lovely was an understatement. "How was it?
Learn anything?"
Mulder moved to sit next to Allen. "Some." He turned around and brought
his arm up. When Scully took his hand, he gently guided her to his side.
She maneuvered to sit next to him and looked in the direction they were
facing. The three sat in quietly for several minutes, taking in the
view.
"I'd like to hear your story." Mulder looked at Allen.
"You already know what happened." Allen's voice was tired, worn, much
like the buildings he had glimpsed earlier.
"Not really." Mulder shook his head, disagreeing. "We know only the bad;
the end isn't everything. The truth can't just be the horrible things."
He glanced at Mulder's face. He could tell that the man so wanted to
believe that was the truth. He needed that belief that this world wasn't
made up entirely of the terrible truths he's had to face in his life.
Allen could feel in him a comfortable sadness. Not the same sadness
that he'd spent his life with; this sadness was one of quiet acceptance.
The sharp edge of guilt had been blunted. He knew his sister now, knew
the truth, knew that she had lived, had loved, had laughed. And it had
been Scully who had given her that gift. That was enough for him.
Allen didn't respond. Instead he focused his attention on the sunset,
trying to count each shade of red and orange in the sky.
"Too many memories here?" Scully asked softly.
"Something like that." Allen sighed heavily. "So many were lost. I
wanted to save them all, but couldn't. I just didn't want to give up on
them."
"We didn't have many choices." Scully reminded him. As if he needed
reminding.
"And they didn't have any," he whispered.
There was a long moment of silence between them, and then Mulder spoke
again. "Are you thinking of your brother?"
If it were possible, Allen's eyes became even more filled with sadness.
"Some. You thinking about your sister?"
"Some." Mulder echoed and he glanced at Scully. Allen watched as a mixed
looked passed between the two. Mulder studied her expression, nodding
slightly, then looked back to the setting sun, gathering his thoughts.
Allen didn't know the specifics of what had passed between the two, but
he had an idea. While Mulder had seemed to move beyond his guilt, Scully
had become mired in a guilt that didn't fit, a guilt that Mulder was
doing his best to wash away.
An incomplete stillness lingered over them. Mulder waited several
moments before speaking again. "You told me that you were envious of the
others who left. You said that they'd found something that had been
taken from you, and you were angry at them for achieving what you could
not."
Allen sighed, feeling like he wasn't the only one who was being
addressed. "Yes, I did say that."
"Do you think that you've achieved what they did?"
"Freedom?" Allen shrugged. "Sometimes it doesn't quite seem like that.
Have you?"
"I think that I have." Mulder looked to Scully, a questioning look on
his face. She read his unspoken inquire and repeated his words. "I think
that we both have."
"It was his laugh that did it." Allen said suddenly. "That was my
catalyst. His laugh as he lay dying. I hadn't heard it..." he paused and
gestured around them, "the last time I'd heard it, we'd been sitting
right here, right at this spot. I had complained that he laughed too
much, but I never thought that it would be so long before I heard it
again."
"His laughter saved you, changed you." Scully looked sideways up at
Allen, offering him a hint of a smile, and the world of understanding.
He returned her smile. "Much like your memories of Mulder saved
Samantha."
"And everyone else." Mulder added.
This silence came easier than the last. The only sound on the mesa was
Pyka, scurrying around; stirring up the animals that resided there.
Allen whistled briefly, and the dog came running back. She lay in front
of the three of them, managing to stretch out far enough for all of them
to be able to pet her.
Scully absently reached down to rub her fingers through the dog's dark
hair and asked, "What are you going to do now?"
"Live. I'm going to live." Allen said simply, although there was a touch
of melancholy in his voice.
"And laugh?" She added, eyebrow raised, studying his withdrawn face.
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he responded. "And laugh." Allen
agreed, smiling. "And watch the sunset; maybe stay and watch the sun
rise. You?"
"That sounds about right." Mulder reached for Scully's hand. Removing it
from the animal's thick fur, he smoothed his callused fingers over her
knuckles. She let him take hold of her hand. Addressing her, he asked,
"Don't you agree?"
With out looking at either of them, she said, "I would like that."
the end
* * * * * *
Author's Note
I have a confession: I love author's notes. Read them all. I love the
bits of insight that they give me about the writers. I also like hearing
how writers get their ideas. So if this isn't your thing, I'm letting
you know ahead of time so that you don't feel obligated: only ramblings
ahead.
What a strange, twisted, odd trip this has been. I had no flipn' idea
that this story would turn out as it did. It was never going to be this
long, it was never going to try to 'explain' everything, and it never
was going to be a 'save the world' type story. I didn't want to go
there; this was my first story; it was just supposed to be a short
little ditty...That's what I kept repeating to myself as the months
rolled past.
So how did it begin? This story came about after I saw the final scene
in Two Fathers. Cassandra was 'The One' and if they found her it would
all begin. I began to think about what would happen if Scully were in
her place...
That's it. That's what began this journey. Everything else came up from
that.
But don't ask me where.
You know how some writers speak of muses? I always thought that they
were speaking metaphorically. They weren't. They are real creatures.
Allusive as hell, but if you can find one, and get them to whisper in
your ear... sigh...almost as good as sex.
Here is where I also express my gratitude to those who helped me. First
is vermin. Harsh at times (to my sensitive ears), but only because I
needed it. Her cries of "Who is speaking??!!" and her demands of
explaining motivations as well as consequences of actions. (I.e., you
mean I have to explain 'why' Fowely helps them? You want to know 'how'
Mulder got rid of CSM's body?) All of her comments helped me, and some
of them even became part of the story. Several of Mulder and Scully's
sarcastic inner thoughts are direct comments from vermin.
I also want to thank nay. She's been with me from the very beginning.
From when it was a three-part story, to when it was an eleven part
story, to now. I could not have done this without her help, support and
guidance. Her cries for "Description! I need description!!!" pointed out
the fact that while *I* could clearly see what was happening, everyone
else would need a little bit of help. If you can tell what's happening
in a scene, thank her for that.
She was also the one who volunteered to rewrite a scene that I hated but
needed and made it so much better. She would make comments like: "this
doesn't sit right with me... how about this:" and she would reword it
perfectly. What a wonderful thing for a writer to have, I tell you. g
I also want to thank David Duchovny, oddly enough. This story was
something else entirely until I watched The Unnatural. I love that
episode, and not just for the reasons that everyone else seems to.g
ARTHUR DALES: What is it to be a human, Fox? Is it to have the
chemistry of a man?...To be a man is to have the heart of a man.
Integrity, decency, sympathy: these are the things that make a
man a man and Ex had them all, had them all, more than you or I.
How could an alien be like this?
JOSH EXLEY: See, there's something you got to understand about
my race. We don't have a word for laughter. We don't laugh.
I don't know if you noticed in between all that fainting you was
doing, but we have very tiny mouths, so no smiling even...I tell
you, when I saw that baseball game being played this laughter
just...it just rose up out of me...
Could it really be that simple? Could others be saved as well?
I want to thank DD, even though he's not likely to ever see this, for
giving me what I feel is the 'heart' of the story.
Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this tale of mine.
If you are feeling especially motivated, you can send me feedback at
aprilleigh50@hotmail.com
april leigh
Mesa Verde, Colorado
8:20 pm
* * * * * *
Face the fears one by one, touch them and let them go.
This is the beginning, this moment is new. It's time for
a change now. Chase down your freedom, lift up your
voice. This is your moment of choice. --Margaret Becker
* * * * * *
The sun was setting. It hung low, streaks of red, pink and orange
dancing like liquid fire across the sky. It had been so long since Allen
had seen a sunset like this. A sunset come alive, lending its fire to
the earth tones of the land; the soft reds, ambers, rich loam browns,
and bleached tans that were the natural condition in this land of wind
and sun. He sat near the edge of an outcropping, one that he had shared
with another so many years ago.
It was unsettling, being here. The land was the same-- the same shape
and contours. It was the small things- trees in the wrong places, people
that seemed like they should be there, but weren't.
He'd come intending to put a conclusion on this part of his life, but he
found he was have difficulty taking the final step. He was shocked by
the odd combination the village represented as they had walked up. Worn
but not broken, he could easily pretend that he was looking at the
village in early morning before everyone had risen. But the truth of his
world would not let that image last.
He'd held back as Mulder and Scully explored the site. But even as he
stood there, Allen could see the fuzzy outlines, the faded glimpses of
actors fleeting across a stage kept dim by eons of time and the
circumstances of their lives. He closed his eyes to those images. He
didn't want to see the ghosts...so many ghosts left behind.
Pyka stirred next to him. Mulder and Scully were finished; he could hear
them walking up behind him. Allen lifted his arm away from the dog's
side and she quickly darted off to meet the couple. He could hear their
soft murmurs of "Good girl..." as they obligingly took their turns
scratching behind Pyka's ears. Once satisfied, she darted off again,
this time in search of an ever-elusive lizard that had been taunting her
all day.
Allen didn't turn around, didn't take his eyes off the setting sun.
Scully spoke. "It's lovely, isn't it?"
"Yes it is." Allen agreed. Lovely was an understatement. "How was it?
Learn anything?"
Mulder moved to sit next to Allen. "Some." He turned around and brought
his arm up. When Scully took his hand, he gently guided her to his side.
She maneuvered to sit next to him and looked in the direction they were
facing. The three sat in quietly for several minutes, taking in the
view.
"I'd like to hear your story." Mulder looked at Allen.
"You already know what happened." Allen's voice was tired, worn, much
like the buildings he had glimpsed earlier.
"Not really." Mulder shook his head, disagreeing. "We know only the bad;
the end isn't everything. The truth can't just be the horrible things."
He glanced at Mulder's face. He could tell that the man so wanted to
believe that was the truth. He needed that belief that this world wasn't
made up entirely of the terrible truths he's had to face in his life.
Allen could feel in him a comfortable sadness. Not the same sadness
that he'd spent his life with; this sadness was one of quiet acceptance.
The sharp edge of guilt had been blunted. He knew his sister now, knew
the truth, knew that she had lived, had loved, had laughed. And it had
been Scully who had given her that gift. That was enough for him.
Allen didn't respond. Instead he focused his attention on the sunset,
trying to count each shade of red and orange in the sky.
"Too many memories here?" Scully asked softly.
"Something like that." Allen sighed heavily. "So many were lost. I
wanted to save them all, but couldn't. I just didn't want to give up on
them."
"We didn't have many choices." Scully reminded him. As if he needed
reminding.
"And they didn't have any," he whispered.
There was a long moment of silence between them, and then Mulder spoke
again. "Are you thinking of your brother?"
If it were possible, Allen's eyes became even more filled with sadness.
"Some. You thinking about your sister?"
"Some." Mulder echoed and he glanced at Scully. Allen watched as a mixed
looked passed between the two. Mulder studied her expression, nodding
slightly, then looked back to the setting sun, gathering his thoughts.
Allen didn't know the specifics of what had passed between the two, but
he had an idea. While Mulder had seemed to move beyond his guilt, Scully
had become mired in a guilt that didn't fit, a guilt that Mulder was
doing his best to wash away.
An incomplete stillness lingered over them. Mulder waited several
moments before speaking again. "You told me that you were envious of the
others who left. You said that they'd found something that had been
taken from you, and you were angry at them for achieving what you could
not."
Allen sighed, feeling like he wasn't the only one who was being
addressed. "Yes, I did say that."
"Do you think that you've achieved what they did?"
"Freedom?" Allen shrugged. "Sometimes it doesn't quite seem like that.
Have you?"
"I think that I have." Mulder looked to Scully, a questioning look on
his face. She read his unspoken inquire and repeated his words. "I think
that we both have."
"It was his laugh that did it." Allen said suddenly. "That was my
catalyst. His laugh as he lay dying. I hadn't heard it..." he paused and
gestured around them, "the last time I'd heard it, we'd been sitting
right here, right at this spot. I had complained that he laughed too
much, but I never thought that it would be so long before I heard it
again."
"His laughter saved you, changed you." Scully looked sideways up at
Allen, offering him a hint of a smile, and the world of understanding.
He returned her smile. "Much like your memories of Mulder saved
Samantha."
"And everyone else." Mulder added.
This silence came easier than the last. The only sound on the mesa was
Pyka, scurrying around; stirring up the animals that resided there.
Allen whistled briefly, and the dog came running back. She lay in front
of the three of them, managing to stretch out far enough for all of them
to be able to pet her.
Scully absently reached down to rub her fingers through the dog's dark
hair and asked, "What are you going to do now?"
"Live. I'm going to live." Allen said simply, although there was a touch
of melancholy in his voice.
"And laugh?" She added, eyebrow raised, studying his withdrawn face.
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he responded. "And laugh." Allen
agreed, smiling. "And watch the sunset; maybe stay and watch the sun
rise. You?"
"That sounds about right." Mulder reached for Scully's hand. Removing it
from the animal's thick fur, he smoothed his callused fingers over her
knuckles. She let him take hold of her hand. Addressing her, he asked,
"Don't you agree?"
With out looking at either of them, she said, "I would like that."
the end
* * * * * *
Author's Note
I have a confession: I love author's notes. Read them all. I love the
bits of insight that they give me about the writers. I also like hearing
how writers get their ideas. So if this isn't your thing, I'm letting
you know ahead of time so that you don't feel obligated: only ramblings
ahead.
What a strange, twisted, odd trip this has been. I had no flipn' idea
that this story would turn out as it did. It was never going to be this
long, it was never going to try to 'explain' everything, and it never
was going to be a 'save the world' type story. I didn't want to go
there; this was my first story; it was just supposed to be a short
little ditty...That's what I kept repeating to myself as the months
rolled past.
So how did it begin? This story came about after I saw the final scene
in Two Fathers. Cassandra was 'The One' and if they found her it would
all begin. I began to think about what would happen if Scully were in
her place...
That's it. That's what began this journey. Everything else came up from
that.
But don't ask me where.
You know how some writers speak of muses? I always thought that they
were speaking metaphorically. They weren't. They are real creatures.
Allusive as hell, but if you can find one, and get them to whisper in
your ear... sigh...almost as good as sex.
Here is where I also express my gratitude to those who helped me. First
is vermin. Harsh at times (to my sensitive ears), but only because I
needed it. Her cries of "Who is speaking??!!" and her demands of
explaining motivations as well as consequences of actions. (I.e., you
mean I have to explain 'why' Fowely helps them? You want to know 'how'
Mulder got rid of CSM's body?) All of her comments helped me, and some
of them even became part of the story. Several of Mulder and Scully's
sarcastic inner thoughts are direct comments from vermin.
I also want to thank nay. She's been with me from the very beginning.
From when it was a three-part story, to when it was an eleven part
story, to now. I could not have done this without her help, support and
guidance. Her cries for "Description! I need description!!!" pointed out
the fact that while *I* could clearly see what was happening, everyone
else would need a little bit of help. If you can tell what's happening
in a scene, thank her for that.
She was also the one who volunteered to rewrite a scene that I hated but
needed and made it so much better. She would make comments like: "this
doesn't sit right with me... how about this:" and she would reword it
perfectly. What a wonderful thing for a writer to have, I tell you. g
I also want to thank David Duchovny, oddly enough. This story was
something else entirely until I watched The Unnatural. I love that
episode, and not just for the reasons that everyone else seems to.g
ARTHUR DALES: What is it to be a human, Fox? Is it to have the
chemistry of a man?...To be a man is to have the heart of a man.
Integrity, decency, sympathy: these are the things that make a
man a man and Ex had them all, had them all, more than you or I.
How could an alien be like this?
JOSH EXLEY: See, there's something you got to understand about
my race. We don't have a word for laughter. We don't laugh.
I don't know if you noticed in between all that fainting you was
doing, but we have very tiny mouths, so no smiling even...I tell
you, when I saw that baseball game being played this laughter
just...it just rose up out of me...
Could it really be that simple? Could others be saved as well?
I want to thank DD, even though he's not likely to ever see this, for
giving me what I feel is the 'heart' of the story.
Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this tale of mine.
If you are feeling especially motivated, you can send me feedback at
aprilleigh50@hotmail.com
april leigh