Overweighted Chapter Seven By RocketMan ===== Dedicated to Juliettt (J3) for her encouragement. ===== "you have three monsters thrashing in your dark room: they never brighten they take long breaks when the oven is on and cinnamon comes stretching its fingers through their matted fur. they breathe in when tiny spiders weave their unseen webs across their dancing nerves. they pucker their red lips when lunch is tuna fish and pickles and love just the same. you have three monsters grieving in your dark room: grieving for their two lost brothers." -- "for Helen Keller," Laura Bontrager ===== I keep feeling Jane. I block out my senses and there she is: breath fast against my cheek, heart fluttering like a worm in a bird's beak, hands gripping me too tightly. She yanks me up and runs . . . and runs . . . and we run forever . . . Dana is there too; I can feel her hands snatch at me as we fly by -- she is angry and wishing I had not come. I can feel them every time I sleep and they wake me up. I go to this place outside of me where I don't have to feel anything, where my mind's eyes and ears don't hear the sounds of unsaid sorrows. I wish I could stay in this place forever and never have to go back. It is silent here. Silent like it used to be for me. There are no mad people, no incoherent ramblings, no abused words, or minds, or children. I can stay away from things and feel nothing but this silence. It is so nice. So very blessed . . . I want to stay here . . . stay here forever. ~~~~~ Dana watched the little girl lying very still on her bed, her hands clutched together and tucked tightly to herself. Helen's eyes were shut and she looked asleep, but she wasn't. Scully didn't know where the little girl had gone, only that her spirit wasn't there anymore. ~~~~~ The windows were bright and let in all the light coming from the dying sun. He squinted and wished she wouldn't open all the curtains, wished she would just leave things alone sometimes. He turned on the couch and shuddered as the warmth was taken away. Looking up, he saw her standing right over him, her hands working nervously together, as if she didn't know quite what to say to him. "I'm worried," she blurt out. He was worried too. He was scared to death, actually, afraid that his stupid emotions or male hormones, or whatever, had gotten away with him and that she would never be comfortable around him again. "Helen . . ." she started, then trailed off at the look in his eyes. He sat up and his feet thumped heavily to the floor. He sighed a long, grieving sigh that ripped from his chest and across to her. She noticed how his hair seemed golden with the light playing along it, how his eyes were as deep and mysterious as horses' and how his hands gave her the feeling that everything would be all right. She moved to squat down next to him, taking one of his hands that were cradling his face. "Helen's not good, Mulder. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she's just not here . . ." His face came out from behind his hands and she jerked back. "There are a lot of us that are just not here." She stood again and moved over to the window, attempting to keep down her fear and sense of . . . of forever . . . She was going to be doing this forever. Helen would grow up with them, and she would always be running around trying to pick up Mulder's pieces. She wanted the best for Helen, and she did love her . . . she thought she did. But how hard would it be if they sent Helen back to her school? Back to the place where she was most comfortable, back where she had an entire family helping her and not some thrown together mess. Otherwise, she was going to be doing this forever. "Scully . . ." She angrily wiped the scalding tears from her cheeks and turned around. He was standing and coming up to her, his eyes no longer far away, but right there with her, looking only at her, thinking only of her. "I just want to make the most of this that we can." he whispered. She froze and moved away. "Making lemonade out of lemons, huh? That's great . . . that's great --" "No, Scully. That's not what I mean." "Then why the hell can't you just say what you mean!?" she screamed, knowing full well that she could end up hurting him, or hurting herself when this was over. "I do say what I mean! I've been saying exactly what I meant since we ever --" "Like hell, you have. Like hell . . ." she sputtered furiosuly, mainly frustrated with herself. "Then to hell with this, Scully. Forget it. You obviously don't care what happens to Helen. So why should I? I'm just the donor, or something, right? So go ahead, whatever it was you were planning on, go right ahead." She sank to the couch and watched his tirade numbly, feeling all energy seep out of her and puddle in the floor. This wasn't fair. She hadn't asked to be taken, to have something mess around with her body, to have things be created in her image. "That's not fair," she whispered. He sat came to tower over her. "I never said this would be fair Scully. No one promised you that." She wouldn't cry in front of him, no matter how much she was hurting. "My father said that --" "If your father told you that life was fair, then screw him. It's not. It never will be -- no matter how much you try, how much you go to church, how much you sit there and pretend that nothing can hurt you. It won't ever stop hurting." She stood and shoved him away with as much force as she could, then blindly reached for the door. He watched her flee and didn't attempt to call her back. She needed to think about things. He needed some time to himself. ~~~~~ Silence. It's quiet and black and forever, like the ocean is when you first put your foot in and it swirls all around you and you think you could go on swimming in it until you dropped right off into space. But it's more. It's drowning in the ocean and not needing air or light or breath. I can stay here with silence holding me up, buoying me in its swells of darkness. A jellyfish stings across my skin and I gasp back suddenly into feeling. He's here. Daddy is crawling up next to me and laying a worn hand across my forehead, then patting my cheek. I open my eyes, letting him know I'm awake. He sighs and leans over and kisses my cheek. When he leaves, I can still taste his tears and his fear like stinging tentacles of a jellyfish. ~~~~~ Dana ran from the bus stop to her own apartment, her key clenched tightly enough to make imprints in her fingers. She stomped up the stairs as if she were running for her life and slammed headlong into the old man that she used to live across from. "Ahh, Dana! I've haven't seen you in a long time, young lady." His sagging eyes were crinkled with long years and happiness and his hands shook from working hard for a living and losing his wife to cancer a few years back. "Hey Mr. James. I'm not really back. I told you I had moved in with . . . ah, Mulder?" "Oh, hunh. Nope. Can't say I remember you telling me. My mind's like a sieve nowadays." "That's all right." She wanted him to just go on, to leave her alone and let her just scream and scream and scream until she was sobbing and gagging on the floor. "Are you okay, Dana? Haven't got people after you?" She smiled sadly. "No, Mr. James. I'm fine." "No, you're not, but that's all right if you want to lie to me. I'm just an old fart anyway, right?" She gaped at him. "No, no, sir. Mr. James, you're not --" "Stop lying to me, Dana. I suspect that's your problem, isn't it? The reason you're all ready to cry?" She sighed and then snuck him a mocking look. "You always were a nosy old man." He grinned with pleasure and patted her arm. "Ha, ha! That's it, tell the truth, now. Remember, Dana, things won't work unless you tell the truth." He turned and began walking away, his gait shuffled and agonizingly slow. "Mr. James?" He turned and winked. "Thanks." ~~~~~ It was dark when she crept inside. Mulder must have pulled the curtains shut again and turned off all the lights. He liked darkness. She supposed Helen didn't care one way or the other. He and Helen were a good match, both moody and always just waiting to find something better. There would be nothing better. He was right. They had to make the best of it. Not because they were stuck together, but because they *were* together. She took a shaky breath and tucked her key into her pocket once again, but she was pretty sure she wouldn't ever feel that trapped again. Licking her upper lip, she carefully tiptoed along the hallway, stopping when she came to Helen's room. Her little girl was curled up on the floor, one arm around a teddy bear the other stretched out and grasping something. As she got closer, she saw Mulder on the floor, where he had evidently posted himself by her bed. It looked like Helen had crawled out of bed to come sleep with him. His hand was clasped in hers and his face tear streaked and old looking. She wished she could make life fair for him. For once. He seemed unwilling to face things sometimes, but also, he could be ferocious about something he loved. It looked like he was loving her. She sank to her knees and padded up to them, then sat there, watching his chest rise and fall and his hand curling in Helen's. She gently reached out, her hand shaking with tentativeness and need. His shirt was soft and cotton, his arm slack and toned under her hand. She let her fingers splay across his bicep, then slide to his back. He twitched in his sleep and sighed. She pressed her face into his shoulder blade and slipped her arm around his chest, feeling like she was holding onto him against the tug of the world. Settling down into the floor, she closed her eyes and prayed to fall asleep. ~~~~~ end chapter seven adios RM