Title: Melancholy (1/1) 
Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com<
Disclaimer: M&S belong to CC.
Rating: MAJOR A, R-one bad word, disturbing images
Hey, I'm branching out here. Tell me how it goes.

Melancholy (1/1)

I am watching this butterfly dart among the pitiful flowers in the
apartment's yard, searching for meager sustinance, and not finding it.
And I am thinking that this is so symbollic it's almost cliche.
I hate things that are cliche.
Or things that fit way too perfectly to my life.
And this lone creature's struggles to make it are incredibly, strikingly
relevant.
I don't want to think of it anymore.
I turn and walk back into my apartment.
That's enough fresh air and sunshine.
I thought that getting a bit of healthy sun would make the pale skin of
cancer fade away for awhile, but it's not working.
Death's palor cannot be disguised.
I face an empty apartment and I am so beyond caring that I'm not even
able to feel depressed. 
I'm sure this is what depression is, because I have zero energy for
anything, and my concentration is nil, but I don't feel it.
It's odd.
I decide to sleep now.
There's nothing else to do, now that I'm not allowed to work.
It kind of went that road because I cut my finger on a pair of scissors
and didn't even feel it. I was sitting at my desk, slicing away,
bleeding like a donor, and Mulder walks in and looks horrified at me.
That wasn't even embarassing.
I'm a lot more free than before.
I have nothing to lose.
I think I'm about to fall asleep.
~~
"Ah!"
I'm awake!
Slow that rapid pulse . . . calm that floundering heart . . . ease that
shaky breath.
Only a dream.
Only a dream.
I live a nightmare.
They don't frighten me anymore.
Only dreams do.
So perfect and happy, shoving in my face what I can't have.
Killing my hope bit by bit with each one, dreams are the night terrors.
A knock.
That's what woke me.
It comes more persistent now.
I must have been out of it.
I get up, forgetting the robe, forgetting until I see Mulder's face when
I open the door that my T-shirt covers nothing.
"Scully?"
"That's me." I say. 
"Scully." He frowns in disapproval.
I don't need his frowns.
"Scully. Can I come in?"
His words are said like he was going to speak of something else.
I shrug and allow him in.
"Guess so."
He comes in and leads me to the couch. "Scully, do you have a robe?"
I shrug. I really can't remember.
He shakes his head. "No matter." 
I know he loves me, he knows I know. So what does a robe matter?
So we make love, or we don't. So I drive him crazy with a peak, so I
tease.
So what?
I will be dead soon.
Might as well.
"Scully. I need you."
Came a little sooner than I thought.
I wonder, if I say no, and then tease him mercilessly, will he go so far
as to rape me?
"You have to come back. Get over this melancholy, get back into living
again."
"Why? It's pointless."
If I make him mad enough will he hit me?
I once made him feel enough, made myself feel enough to tell him I loved
him.
And right after that, he left me for a month, to find a cure he said.
He came back with nothing of course. Nothing but wasted time.
I wanted to cry. I don't have that kind of time.
But crying is far removed now.
He may love me, he said he did.
But it doesn't matter.
"Damnitt Scully!"he shouted. "Do something! Hit me, swear at me, scream,
something. I said I was sorry! I said I was sorry!"
Funny, I'd just been wondering if he would hit me, or scream at me, or
rape me.
Wonder what he'd do if I raped him.
I smile.
His eyes grow lighter, thinking maybe I have forgiven him.
Thing was, I have already forgiven him. That's not a problem. It's just
getting back my life that's the problem.
I lean forward until I am breathing on him, and then I kiss him.
To my horror, he takes my wrists and pins me, taking my lips roughly
with his.
I panic.
For a moment.
Then I get that cloud of funk over me again and it doesn't matter that
he's kissing me senseless.
He leans back, with me still trapped and then grimaces.
"I'm going to make you respond, Scully. This melancholy is killing you
faster than the cancer. I . . . I need you, don't you understand?"
I sit there, like a willful child, eyes closing, not caring.
He does rape me.
Well, I could have fought.
And I suppsoe it's not technically rape since it never went all the way. 
It hurt.
The first thing that had hurt me in a long time.
I stare at him, hating him for pulling me from my cocoon, loving him for
saving me.
And then, with my shirt oddly around me, pulled up so that my bottom
half is completely naked, I fall into his arms.
And I cry.
I cry.

end
adios
RocketMan