Date sent: Mon, 17 Nov 1997 20:56:46 -0500 Subject: Strike A Match From: noratramm@juno.com (Nora A Tramm) Name: Strike a Match Author: Nora Tramm Rating: I dunno. The worst thing is the F-word. Genre: A, V, enough MSR to get friendshippers riled Description: This is The End... or was The End years ago? Disclaimer: The characters described below are owned by Chris Carter, 10/13 productions, and FOX broadcasting network. I have used them without permission and am very, very sorry. No, really, it's true. There's no need to sue me. I also own neither of the songs that I have quoted from. Yada yada yada. Note: You will hate this. I hate this. Please send me flames, virtual wedgies, virtual beatings, and viruses/worms/logic bombs/whatever as a punishment for writing something so horrible. P. S. I'm usually not this mean to M and S. I have written other fanfics, but I haven't posted any others yet. I want to come in with a bang. Wish me happy birthday... Letting myself post this and my top ten list is my birthday present to myself... THIS IS MY FIRST POST!!!! Hey, has anyone else noticed that the singer on Savage Garden looks a bit like Carl Sagan? XxxxxxxxxxxX Strike a match By Nora Tramm noratramm@juno.com XxxxxxxxxxxX Get the kids and bring a sweater Dry is good and wind is better Count the years you always knew it Strike a match go on and do it --Shawn Colvin, "Sunny Came Home" XxxxxxxxxxxX As we walk down the road of our destiny And the time comes to chose which shall it be The wide and crooked or the strait and narrow We got one voice to give and one life to live Stand up for something or lay down in the game Listen to the song that we sing It's up to you to make it be I guess I'll see you when you see me. I'll see you when you get there If you ever get there See you when you get there --Coolio featuring 40 Thevz, "C U When U Get There" XxxxxxxxxxxX molder (brit: moulder): vt. to crumble or decay, turn to dust mulish: stubborn, obstinate mull (over): to ponder or reminisce XxxxxxxxxxxX Time's up, Scully. It's over. Though when I think about it, it's been over for a long time. And all this has been a charade. The real action ended long ago. The truth left with you. I can face that now. I am retiring. I talk to you all the time, Scully. I guess if you hear me now, then you would have been hearing me, and you would know that. If you've been listening to me all this time, I'm sorry for bothering you. I'm sorry. How long ago was it? How long since I've seen your face outside of dreams? Heard your voice? Twenty-four years, Scully. Twenty-four years, ten months, and thirteen days. We'd known each other for eight years, one month, and twenty-one days. I remember you, Scully. You've been with me. I remember how you went. I was angry for too long, Scully. I was wrong. I'm not angry anymore. Forgive me. You decided to take things into your own hands, Scully. You broke into their nest with your tiny, lithe body. You found the truth, Scully. I know you did. The truth you found would have been the answer, Scully. You could have brought them down. You could have dragged us up out of the fucking basement. You could have... found Samantha. That quest is so empty, Scully. It has been empty for twenty-four years, ten months, and thirteen days. They shot you, Scully, because you knew. You died in my quest. And I, Scully, I held you in my arms as you breathed your last. You spoke, and all I could think about was my truth. But you didn't even try to tell me it. Your last words to me ring true at last. With the last of your life you told me you loved me. For that I was angry, Scully. I couldn't see how that could matter. I wanted that truth, Scully. I was a maniac. Ahab. I went on for these twenty-four years, ten months, and thirteen days. I went on angry and empty. Hollow. Meaningless. Hopeless. I pretended I still had my search for Samantha, for the truth. But that died with you. You took it from me. I was angry. I'm not angry now, Scully. Forgive me for my past desecration of your memory. Finally I have grown up, Scully. I can appreciate that you gave me the greatest gift you could with your last breath. I have held your words close to me since you said them, even when I was telling myself I hated them. If you hadn't shown me it was really you, the real you, the you I always knew lived behind your vibrant eyes, who was dying in my arms, I might have believed that cigarette smoking fucking bastard when he tried to lure me into his clutches with hints that you were still alive, that he could give you back to me. You saved me yet again. I went through the motions of the search for all these years, months, and days since you left me, yet now I'm retiring with nothing to show for it. As I knew I would when I pumped your chest, felt for a pulse, and found none. Yet I went on. Why? You've been with me, Scully. That I don't doubt. I know you cherished those eight years, one month, and twenty-one days we were together. Though you only remembered seven years, ten months, and nineteen days. How dare they take those months from you, then take the rest of your life, too? How many times did I cry when I knew you? Surely not many. I've only cried once since you left me, Scully, but that one crying spell has lasted twenty-four years, ten months, and thirteen days, and though sometimes I've had no tears left, Scully, I've cried. Because you loved me, Scully, I went on. I'm kind of stupid like that. Though the world turned against me and it took everyone else as well as you. Why? Not just you, Scully, though your loss hurt the most. My mother. Marita Covarrubias. Semator Matheson. The Gunmen. And the one man I counted as a friend after you left, Skinner. He cried for you, too, you know. We cried on each other's shoulders, once, but I pushed him away. He's gone, too. Now, I'm ending this game. I'm retiring. My life has no more purpose. I haven't turned in my--no, the bureau's gun yet. It still has some use. Your last words touch me at last. You're embracing me, Scully, I can feel it. They say that before you die your entire life flashes before your eyes. I only see two parts, Scully. The time with my sister and the time with you. And both endings. I'm coming to you now. Fuck it all, Scully, I love you too. XxxxxxxxxxxX Trust No One, because the Truth Is Out There even though they'll Deny Everything to make you Believe the Lie, so just remember that Everything Dies and Apology is Policy; still, All Lies Lead To The Truth, which by the way is still Out There. The guidelines said not to flame anyone But getting nothing instead of flames is no fun Don't be afraid 'cause I feel no shame So please, go ahead and hit me with that flame My spell check thinks Samantha is Satanical, Scully is Sculls, and Covarrubias is Convertables. END