Title: One Thought Series: Forgive Author: Andrina Feedback: Woo-hoo! I LOVE it! (LilithK1...@AOL.com) Rating: R…oooooo…I've escalated! Summary: A sister's give. A brother's take. Disclaimer: Not mine. Status: V, part of a series Category: A, perhaps H, if you're really twisted Spoilers: I don't do spoilers Archive: If you must, but lemme know so's I can visit. Author's Notes: Hi, all! 'S me again, but I'm very, very busy, unfortunately, so forgive me if I'm a bit backed up. Oh, and here's your explanatory installment, Alelou! Hope you like it! ---------- Forgive ---------- Forgive? I love you, sis. I do. And I forgive you. But man, what you did to Fox Mulder was a bitchy thing, D. Then, see, you've always been a bitch. All right, I can see you're not following me, whoever you are. So lets rewind the tape a bit, shall we? It all started twenty-six years ago. That would make it 1992. My sister Dana got transferred to some shit assignment outside the Fibbie mainstream called the X-Files. There she met the aforementioned Fox Mulder. They worked together for ten years, all the while suppressing their deep feelings for each other…yadda, yadda, yadda. So, finally, they decided to close said files, no explanation given, and get married. A couple of months later D decides to tell us she's about -oh- six months pregnant. With Foxy's baby nonetheless. Bill had a shit-fit. Mom just did her whole 'I'm-going-to-be-a-grandma-but-you-still-shouldn't-have-had-premarital-sex' thing. Missy and Dad, I'm sure, were doing summersaults up there in heaven… And me? Well, I just about died laughing at the whole damn situation. Antics City, man. Hey, I made Mom a grandmother at seventeen; I can say anything? Anyway, the baby gets born and they give her this god-awful name (Cecelia Christienne) and everything's cool for about a year. Then D gets all quiet and shit. She takes off for days at a time and leaves Mulder home alone with the damn kid. Comes back without a word for anyone, sleeps, and takes off again. And one day she just up and leaves. With that baby. That just about kills Fox Mulder. He spends a whole fucking year of his life doing nothing but looking for my bitch sister and his baby girl. So, one day, he comes home and finds this note from Dana. Mom found him lying in a pool of his own blood, half-alive and three-quarters dead. Doctors said if she'd gotten there a half an hour later, he would've been gone. Dana shows up at hospital the next day, talks to Fox, and leaves. This time she left the kid. We haven't seen her for nearly fifteen years. I got this feeling, though, that you're around here somewhere, D. So, if you're listening, I forgive you big sister. But there's no way I'm forgetting. No way in Hell. -Charlie ********************************** "But if you do not forgive, neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses." The Gospel according to Mark, chapter 11, verse 26. *** Title: One Thought Series: First By Andrina LilithK1...@AOL.com Feedback: is what brightens my days at Xandri...@AOL.com, or you could just hit the reply thingie if you're really lazy. Spoilers: nope, well....not really. Unless you call my last post, Dark, a spoiler. But that doesn't really apply here, I don't think.... Disclaimer: Not mine, except for the girl who STILL has no name. Any suggestions? Rating: PG-13 Category: Angst. In fact, these things are turning into veritable Angst-fests. Summary: A Song and Dance. Author's Notes: Here's part one in the series, which lacks a title. I've been toying with the idea of just killing it now and being done with it. I've only heard from a few people, and it seems like a shame to write when no one's reading it. And yes, I'm guilt-tripping you all. Sorry. Once again, for Judy and Meg....and for my new buddy Erika, who's been sooooo curious as to what's going on in my dark little psyche. And away we go.... ----- First ------- There are only a few times in my life I can recall being truly shaken. The daughter of one: Fox William Mulder does not get shaken. It just isn't done, not in this family. But I suppose it doesn't apply anymore, that rule. You see, for the first time since I was little, I am really and truly shaken. And I am alone. My father is dead. And I am lost. **** She was reasonably tipsy. I suppose it was her way of dealing with whatever was going on in her life. I really don't know. All I know is that she was beautiful. And I wanted her. Not like *that*, all thought that certainly have been a bonus. But she was effing drunk for God's sake, and I am one of the few guys left in New Your City that is not morally challenged. I won't take a girl home when she's been drinking. No matter how sober she seems. She seemed pretty lucid when we started to dance. Then we sat down. It was soon clear that she was, in fact, not. Not really, anyway. She started saying things. Crazy things. And I listened. I wanted to. For her. Her voice was incredible. Husky, yet somehow melodic, low, yet it drowned out all other sounds in the room. I asked, Did she mind if I smoked? No, she answered, and could she have one too, if I had one to spare? So I gave her one and asked her why someone so beautiful could be so depressed. "If that's a line, you need a new one." It's no line and would she like someone to talk to? "Really talk to." She looked at me for a moment, then past me, into the dimness of the room. Large hazel eyes narrowed and that incredible voice lowered into a growl. "It all started when *she* showed up. It's all her fault. And he *left* me with her." She sobs, still looking past me into, I think, what must be an enormous amount of anger and guilt. "God, we were so happy. Why couldn't she *see* that? *Why* couldn't she have *left us alone*?" She pauses. "I even remember what he was wearing that day. The dark blue pinstripe that I had picked out especially for the occasion. He was wonderful in that suit. My father. My dark angel." **** "Don't you think you've had enough?" Said with bemusement. "Don't you think you should mind your own business?" Mock- anger. A sigh. "You're incorrigible, know that?" "Thank you." "Oh, Daddy, really. Enough is enough. You're going to get fat." "Oh, God, you're beginning to sound like your grandmother." "Thank you." She looks at him, her face strained, trying to suppress a smile. He grins at her, and she smiles in spite of herself. "Dad, put the food down." "Yes, ma'am." **** She stops there and I wonder, vaguely, what her reaction would be if I were to take her hand in mine. Would it bring her out of her trance? I do. But it doesn't. It seems, actually, to send her further into the recesses of her own mind. That vacant look in her eyes is beginning to scare me. Before I can articulate the thought, she starts to speak. "I saw her first..." ------------------------------------------------------------ "…But now this code was beginning to break down, an incipient scramble for power beginning to develop. A threat from within that doubled the threat from without, from Agents Mulder and Scully, and The X-Files…" --Chris Carter, The Truth at 10:13 *** Title: One Thought Series: Time By Andrina Xandri...@AOL.com Feedback: is what brightens my days at Xandri...@AOL.com. Or you could just hit the reply thingie if you're really lazy. Spoilers: Yeah, my last post, 'First' But really, if you haven't read that, then this might make no sense at all. Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG-13 Category: ANGST Summary: Sixteen long years Authors notes: This is the second in my as-yet un-named series. Hey, you never know what I'll come up with. For Meg and Judy and Erika, and for whomever this twisted mind of mine came from. And away we go.... ------- Time ------- She could feel the eyes boring into her skull. Shivers ran up and down her spine, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She new that stare. She turns, searching for the eyes. Eyes that she knows are blue. And ice-cold. Her grip on her father's hand tightens involuntarily. He turns to her. Sees the fear in her hazel eyes as they settle on something. Someone. Oh, God, Lord Jesus, please no. Not now! **** Time moves to quickly. If someone had told me that twenty-six years ago, I wouldn't have believed it. And that wouldn't have been the only thing I wouldn't have believed. Twenty-six years ago, I was lost, with no hope of finding my way. And then my way sauntered into my life. And my world got progressively darker. I cared too much. I know that now. Cared so much I knew that if he stopped breathing air would cease to exist. And he gave me something so precious and perfect that every time I looked at it, he became increasingly flawed. So I left. Took my precious gift with me. My daughter. My love. But he found us. He found us and I haven't seen my baby girl for sixteen years. Forgive me if I sound a bit hysterical. But time moves too quickly. And I'd know them anywhere... *** Red, red, red, and ice-blue, and, oh, God, she's back! But those scared eyes. I can't get them out of my head. She was happily talking to a few friends and generally charming the hell out of everyone in the general area. My little girl can do that. And then her loose hold on my hand became a death-grip. She looked at me with eyes that pleaded with me to get her the hell out of there. Terrified. A woman with ice blue eyes was watching me, daddy, and now my little girl's terrified. What color is her hair? Ca you see her? Red. Red, red,red, and ice-blue, and, oh, God, she's back! And words cant describe what I'm feeling. Elated. Scared shitless. My daughter is smart. And she can see it in my eyes. She's back. Mommy's back. But her eyes don't change. Those terrified eyes.... ------------------------------------------------------------ "…But now this code was beginning to break down, an incipient scramble for power beginning to develop. A threat from within that doubled the threat from without, from Agents Mulder and Scully, and The X-Files…" --Chris Carter, The Truth at 10:13 *** Title: One Thought Series: Mine By Andrina LilithK1...@AOL.com Feedback: I like it…good or bad it gives me new friends at LilithK1...@AOL.com Rating: PG-13, for the 'S' word. Category: Angst? Who, me? Write Angst? Never! Summary: A marking of territory. Disclaimer: Not mine. 'Nuff said. Author's Notes: Ohhhhh, dear. Still can't find that explanatory installment for this series. I have a feeling I'm going to get hurt VERY soon (don't kill me Sandy, PLEASE!) if I don't find it. ------- Mine ------- I decide to go see them. The decision is spur of the moment, but the act itself is not. I have been following them for weeks. I know what time each gets home, when they eat dinner, and when they go to sleep. And aside from that first unfortunate incident at the park, neither has noticed me. She gets home around six today, he five-fifteen on the dot. They will eat dinner promptly at six-thirty, and afterward she will go to work on her thesis and he will clean up. It's four thirty as I pull up across the street from their home. Well, well, it seems I have been noticed. He's waiting for me. Damn him for knowing me so well. I ring the bell, fully intending to chew him out for not acknowledging me. He opens the door and I am floored. Any words that would have come from my mouth leave me. I had forgotten the pleased little boy he became when he found what he was looking for. It takes my breath away, for all his energy is focused directly on me. And that feeling is familiar…too familiar. "Hey, Scully," he says, and ushers me in as though we do this every day. "She'll be home soon," he says; again, everything normal. "Mulder, don't tell her." His eyes go wide, but he nods, understanding. I get the feeling he has never lied to her, his precious little girl. No, not his. Mine. We sit on the couch and make small talk for a while, and he tells me how sorry he is to hear about my second husband. Michael died seven years ago, I tell him, heart attack, and my step-son Sean is going to be twenty-four this month. He looks shocked that it was all that long ago. I ask after his mother, she's gone twelve years now, and Samantha? She lives in Montpellier, New York. Her husband is a lawyer and they have nine children now. A key clicks in the lock as we are discussing our daughter's dabbling in the world of astrophysics. "It's open," he calls, and stands. She's smiling when she opens the door, arms loaded with books and papers and other college paraphernalia. Then she catches sight of me and green eyes go dark brown. Hazel, then, I think. She inherited his hazel. But she got my eyebrow arch. She's a real combination, our little girl is, but to be truthful, she looks more like him. Lanky, but not as bony as her father. She's got my nose and his eyes. Her mouth, a rosebud shape when last I saw her, now consists of my upper lip and his lower. His cheekbones, my chin, and, obviously, his intellect. My small hands and feet, his long limbs. And God blessed the girl in more ways than one because she's built. Like a brick shit-house. What I wouldn't have given for those curves at her age. Glasses are perched precariously on her small nose and long, dark, wavy hair falls to her knees. And that's quite some length, because she's tall. Mulder's daughter would be tall. I should have known she would be. Tall, but not too tall - maybe 5'10", or 5'11". But then she moves to stand next to her father. God, she's taller than he is. Not by much, maybe an inch or so, but still taller. She wasn't cursed with the vertically challenged Scully gene. We knew that from day she was born. Twenty-six inches at birth and we were left wondering how *she* came out of *me*. How Mulder laughed. My OB/GYN almost collapsed. She's looking at me with a curiosity born of an unchartable intellect. Mulder's daughter would be smart, too. She's what, just seventeen years old, and already there's a Bachelor's Degree in Astrophysics from Yale on the wall. And a spot reserved for her Ph.D. in astrophysics, which should be completed within the next two years. Yeah, that'll go real well with Mulder's Ph.D. in Psychology. Astrophysics. Ha. She studies me for a while, then touches her father's arm lightly. This must signal that she's ready to be introduced, because he smiles warmly at her. "Ceil, this is Katherine Shaughnessy," he says, using my married name. "Kathy worked with your mother and I at the Bureau. Kathy, this is my daughter, Cecelia." He says this last quietly, his eyes silently begging me to forgive him. For what, my eyes answer back. This was my idea, after all. "You can call me Kath," I say, and the mistrust in her eyes vanishes. I can just hear what's going through her head. 'Any friend of Daddy's….' It would be funny if it weren't so pathetic. Daddy's still her hero. Time to grow up, sweetie. Mommy's home. And no daughter of mine is going to get away with being that weak. ------------------------------------------------------------ "…But now this code was beginning to break down, an incipient scramble for power beginning to develop. A threat from within that doubled the threat from without, from Agents Mulder and Scully, and The X-Files…" --Chris Carter, The Truth at 10:13 *** Title: The One Thought Series: Nana Author: Andrina Feedback: I like it…good or bad it gives me new friends at LilithK1...@AOL.com Rating: R Category: Guess Summary: Daughters have feelings too. Disclaimer: Not mine. ‘Nuff said. Author’s Notes: Da is the Irish for Father. ------- Nana ------- I’m not liking this situation. I’m really not. This cloak and dagger shit is getting on my nerves. Something’s wrong here. I can feel it. Da must think I’m oblivious or something. Katherine Shaughnessy my ass. His friend. Ha. He’s got the hots for her, period; end of sentence. Not that I mind. He needs to get laid. And she seems nice enough. But there’s something seriously wrong here. I’m not sure what though. And I’m not around enough to see how they act around each other for more than a few hours. Let alone when I’m not here. Something tells me, though, that it’s not lovey-dovey. She’s got a thing for him too…that much is obvious. The only thing I can think is years of sexual repression will do that to you. That *has* to be the reason they aren’t jumping each other. Not to mention the fact that Kath was (is?) Mother’s friend. And Da’s still got a jones for the Bitch. Yeah, Bitch. With a capital B. Dana fucking Scully, Bitch-master extrodineire. I went to see Nana today. Uncle Bill and aunt Tara are in, along with Charlie and Maureen and their brood. Bill brought Matty and Danny with him. Charlie brought all fifteen of his kids along with him. Nans, of course, is loving it. She knew something was wrong the second she saw mw though. Nana Maggie is one of the most intuitive people I know. I told her about Kath. About her showing up out of nowhere, and how she looks. Something in Nan’s eyes clicked offwhen I started to tell her how Da’s been acting. Nan said I should try to like Kath; that I should get along with her for my Da’s sake. He’s been alone for such a long time. I suppose she’s right. I mean, any friend of Da’s is a friend of mine. Right? --------------------------------------------------------------- "…But now this code was beginning to break down, an incipient scramble for power beginning to develop. A threat from within that doubled the threat from without, from Agents Mulder and Scully, and The X-Files…" --Chris Carter, The Truth at 10:13 *** *****This is the one that started it all. Ahhhhh....the memories....***** Title: One Thought Series: Dark By Andrina Xandri...@AOL.com Feedback: Is what brightens my days. Spoilers: Nope Disclaimer: Not mine, except for the girl who has no name. Rating: PG Category: Angst **WARNING** Character death. If this bothers you, forewarned is forearmed, and just remember I warned you. In capital letters, no less! Summary: Die are cast Author's Notes: Does anyone read these besides me? I hope so. I was thinking of making this part of a series. It would probably stand somewhere near the end of the series, but I would like to know if I should bother before I begin. ThanX to Meg, who took my Mulder-muse and put him to work so I could use my Scully-muse, and to Judy, who told me to get off my ass and write something two years ago. I did, and I haven't stopped yet. Luv you guys! And away we go.... ------- Dark ------- Her lipstick is too dark. She was perfect the day she was born, all soft skin and red hair and hazel eyes. Tiny fingers and tiny toes and a tiny rosebud mouth with a lower lip that we knew was going to be pouty. She would fashion the Mulder-pout into something much more dangerous. But now her lipstick is too dark. That lower lip trembles as she says to me, "I'm going out. Going dancing. Don't wait up." She was the pale and dutiful daughter this morning at the cemetery in her appropriate mourning garb. Dark dress, pale skin, long hair darkened with age pulled back into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. No make-up. She didn't shed a tear. So stoic, so strong. I see so much of myself in her. Her heart on her sleeve while her face is impossible to read. Her eyes glazed over half-way through Psalm 23, somewhere around the 'Valley of the Shadow of Death' part, tuning the scene out. She was exploring her guilt complex. The one she inherited with the hazel eyes and pouty lips. When it was over, she threw a single perfect black rose into the grave after the coffin was lowered and left. Not a word to anyone. Just got in her car and left. She was on the couch when I got home. "I'm going out. Going dancing. Don't wait up." Gone is the black dress and sleek bun. Standing before me is a teenage goddess of fashion, and all in a royal blue. Her dark curls are loose, and graze the middle of her thighs. And her lipstick is too dark. "How can you do this," I ask, my voice rough to my ears. "After all-" "After all I've been through this week I deserve this." She turns toward the door. I grab her arm and turn her to face me. "I just buried-" Her eyes are dark with anger as she cuts in. "How *dare* you? *You* didn't bury anyone. *I* buried my *Father*," she says, her voice menacing. Then her eyes are hazel again. "And I don't know you," she says quietly. She gently lifts my hand off of her arm. Her burgundy lips twist into a grimmace of a smile. "And I want you out of my house." "But I...I'm your-" "I know who you were. You were Scully. My ever-elusive and enigmatic mother. Ask me if I care." Her tone is light. Damnit, she's *enjoying* this. "And you were the reason I buried him this morning. *Me*. *I* did that. He *was* your Mulder. But he *died* my Father." She looks at me with wide, hazel eyes. Mulder's eyes. They are cold. "And I want you out of our home by the time I get back." With that, she turns and goes, shutting the door quietly behind her. And all I can think is, it's too dark. Her lipstick is too dark. ------------------------------------------------------------ "…But now this code was beginning to break down, an incipient scramble for power beginning to develop. A threat from within that doubled the threat from without, from Agents Mulder and Scully, and The X-Files…" --Chris Carter, The Truth at 10:13