Title: Alive Alone Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com< Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe is intended. What's so bad about sharing? Notes and Dedication: Thanks go to Pandora again, for sending me the lyrics again. SPOILER::::::The movie. Just a reference. Content: MS-UST, no Angst, just stupidity ~~~~~ Alive Alone ~~~~~ "And I'm alive I'm alone And I never wanted to be either of those. . . And she shines she shines for me she shines for me" --'Alive Alone' Chemical Brothers ~~~~~ I promised myself this wasn't going to be a pity party. It's not. I won't let it anymore. I can do better than sitting at home on my couch watching television and simply wishing for things I don't think I can have. I almost had those things. I can have them again. I can. I can. A kiss (almost) in an empty hall, a brush that went nowhere but said everything. Light hands touching, whispers of feeling threading through. It had been an impulse, but it remained a fact. I won't let myself slide back into that destructive funk wave I was riding for about three years there. The wave that built up when she was taken and I could only think that I had done it to her. My wave has crashed into the shore and it's a glorious beach: white sand, palm trees, coconuts, life. And this island is ripe. Deserted except for one thing: Scully. It's like I'm sunbathing and getting warm and toasted all over, stretched out in the sand and feeling the little fingers of sunlight massaging every inch of my skin. That's what she does to me. Right now, though, in this ratty dim light, with the noise of the Three Stooges making me realize just how pathetic I am, I don't feel so hot. I feel rather like I'm having that pity party. Because she's not here. I'm not there with her, and she doesn't want me there either. I know. I called. I asked. She refused. Refused. Not a polite, oh sorry, but a downright shouted "NO" don't come near me kind of panic. I don't want to be here, alone, by myself, having no one but myself to think about. I want to be with her, even for an hour, even for a second. Just to reinforce my earlier decision: that I can get over my stupid depression, that I don't have to wallow in the horror my family was steeped in. Without her is deep darkness. In her I find light. She shines. Stupid, corny, cliche, yes. Yes! Gloriously cliche. Wonderfully hackneyed. It's a mervelous feeling, being so normal as to be cliche. Cliche. Nothing for me is ever cliche. I want the phone to ring. I want her to be on the other end, telling me that I can come over, that she will shine some more for me. She doesn't though. She just doesn't. I wonder why. Isn't this the part where she calls and the story actually goes somewhere, redeems itself from being some long, drawn-out, emotional tirade against the forces that conspire against me? Yes. I'm pretty sure something is supposed to happen here. She is supposed to call, to tell me to come over and let my ego rest, let my depression lift. Yet she doesn't. Because this is real life. And I'm alive. And alone. And she's shining for herself. Not for me. ~~~~~ end adios RM this was a kick in the head for me, how about you?