From: Sabine Date: Thu, 11 Nov 1999 20:17:11 -0800 Subject: NEW: Sin, R 1/1 TITLE: Sin AUTHOR: Sabine ARCHIVE: Gossamer, Xemplary, and Spookys okay. Everybody else okay too. Tell, don't ask. RATING: R for mature and potentially objectionable themes. Please don't read this if you have a tendency toward being offended. Really. CATEGORY: MulderAngst, F, V SPOILERS: "Sixth Extinction," I suppose. SUMMARY: A companion piece to "Chronicle of a Life Foretold;" this is Mulder on Fowley, set during "Sixth Extinction." Heavy biblical themes. For Char Chaffin, Phillipa, haphazard method, cofax, and everyone else who agreed that while this is not necessarily what we want, it's what we've got. However, if this piece offends you, none of them are to be blamed for this. Sin My goldfish are dead. Twelve bananas spoil the minute they cross the threshold into my house. I never had a fichus, even the cactus Scully gave me once died within days, its cheap little defense of prickers was no match for the pall that surrounds me like the aura I once had a fortuneteller read; everything I touch dies. In my refrigerator there are two styrofoam takeout boxes that have been there since the dawn of time; I don't know what's in them; I'm afraid to move them; I don't even open the refrigerator anymore; I eat out. The goldfish are a test, were a test, like the dove in the mineshaft I figured they'd warn me; they have warned me. Don't come near me, the clock is ticking, I am cancerous, I'm a black hole. I can't even manage to feel bad for the poor, dumb fish, but now, like Death on a Harley I'm speeding into town, hide your daughters, cover your ears, dust is kicking up and armageddon begins. She watches me sleep; she hasn't been far from my side for days. She sits up in the cafeteria drinking coffee like diesel fuel, staring at her pale, clammy hands too weak to hold on to me, she feels the draw and she's slipping. She knows me; she bit from that apple and she's cast out, knowing me; she's the original sin. I am death; I am the child of twenty centuries of defeat upon defeat; I am the missing link; I am Neanderthal; I am angelic; I am extraterrestrial; I am superhuman; I am the king of assholes; I am one in five billion; I am an imp; I am a demon; I am the son of man. I am America; I am the new world with its hands bloodstained with discovery; I am a laboratory rat; I am a scientist; I am a Nazi; I am a murderer; I am an abandoned corpse in a dumpster in west Philadelphia; I am the Dalai Lama; I am Anastasia; I am the city of Atlantis, yanked up from the deep with dental tools. I am the ribbon-cutting ceremony at Wal-Mart in Oxnard, California; I am a three ring circus; I am a ship of fools. I am every abusive boyfriend, every loving father, every doting husband, every cheater, every liar, every man who stood at the altar with a ring and a tuxedo saying "where has my life gone?" She is the only one who understands. She's at my side, now, her lips moving, crooked with pain, with confusion, with deeper confusion, now, at the fact that she understands everything, understands me, understands that now I have touched her and she is doomed. She will be my sacrifice, my willing lamb to the slaughter on the mountaintop, and even now, after all she's done, that bit of me that's still human cries out for her, I'm sorry, Diana, I'm sorry, it's my fault, it's always my fault, you sinned for me, you broke the rules, you cheated at cards, you drove over the speed limit through a plate glass door; you stole a lipstick from the cosmetics counter, slipped it in your pocket when you thought no one was watching and you've got twenty-five to life, which ever comes last. You laugh to yourself; shrug it off: dumb question. The rest of them are gone, now, Diana. It's late, they're tired, they've punched the clock and gone home, restless; unable to sleep they ponder what more they could have done for me. Well-meaning, and ignorant, all of them. There's Skinner playing both sides against the middle, waiting for the right, waiting to place his bet on the winning team. There's a team of doctors looking for the primer that will show them the secrets of the universe on microfilm; they've typed in their question to a search engine and instead of this truth we're stuck with they get "what's the deal with magnets" on OnHealth Dot Com. Scully. Shh, Diana; don't close off to her the way you always do; think about it. Think about her, what she's trying to do for me. She's getting eaten alive down there and she's doing it for me, for us, for this truth we've sacrificed our lives for. We were willing sacrifices, you and me, Diana. We knew what we were getting into; we gave ourselves over to it, wrist to razor, make it happen, enlighten us, get it done. She didn't, Diana, she leaped before looking, hiding behind centuries of learning she went blindly like an infant into the world, more vulnerable than any of us, more exposed, though she'd never admit it. Forgive her, the way I forgive you. Something clicks in my brain, a door opens, a door shuts, it's the sad joke of Universal Studios having a simulated earthquake ride in Los Angeles, poking fun at a city who's shaken to the ground by the earthquakes god gives them, not as well. What can god do that man can't do better? What is it that we don't have control over? Something clicks, and I can see you staring down at me; I'm ignorant-lucid like I was before all this; I am human-all-too-human and I hate you, whore! Cover yourself up, damn it; throw a blanket on, you indecent hussy, get your sex and your desire and your teasing, taunting beauty out of my face before I slap you into next week, bitch! I can't be seen with you, Jesus Christ, you can't know me, I want myself back, I want that last shred of decency you've ripped from me back, god damn it, right now! Wipe that sad smile off your face, cunt! I'm not yours, I never was, I never will be; I am Death Almighty and I will smite you, damn it, I will tear you to pieces, I will tear you down! You think just because you know me, you own me? Fuck you. Fuck you. Get the hell out of here, go to hell, if you want any chance in hell of escaping this hell then get the fuck out of here, now, because you know what you're doomed to, with me. You know what I've got and you know what I can do and you know what being here with me means. And you might think you're strong enough to face it, but face it, bitch, you ain't. There are tears in your eyes and you tell me you love me and I believe you. This is it, Diana. This is the way it ends, not with a whimper but with a slam-bam-thank you ma'am, stuff your underwear into your back pocket and hightail it out of here before I wake up, because the wrath is coming, and the rapture is coming, and ignorance is innocence and innocence is bliss. Had to know, didn't you? Had to know the truth? And I can't really blame you for it, because so did I, and if I let myself admit it we're not so different, you and me - just a sister and a chromosome separate us, keep me from being shrouded in that ugly dark you're doomed to, but I didn't do it. Our lives are one, yours and mine, and I hate myself for it but we both know it's true. Yin and yang, good and evil, two faces, two hearts so close it's impossible to know where one stops and the other begins. Everyone else is gone. The machines are whirring, ticking, keeping time with this flawed body that's collapsing around me, that's not listening to me, and I'm glad it's not mine because my swollen cock is calling for you, eat the apple, taste the sin, it's too late for you; it's too late. I am the laughing, mocking face of death. You are beauty, tempting me. Everyone else is gone, and this is it, the final gambit, queen takes rook, checkmate. You deserve me, whore. Let the others sleep their blessed, ignorant sleep; you deserve my touch. And I deserve you, after all I've done, after all I'm going to do, after everything I've touched and destroyed. And I know you know it as you kneel down to kiss me; our fates are twined, yours and mine. Kiss me, Diana. Put your lips to this serpent's bite and suck the poison out. Only one of us can go on from here. THE END _ Poor, poor Gibson Praise Left to live out the rest of his days Alone in the reactor core Since we put an end to the alien war. And that flaking, scaling, molting grey thing Will be poor Gibson's only plaything Since Fox and Dana just don't care That Mr. Carter's left him there. http://emilyss.home.mindspring.com/xfiles.htm (Writing on the X-Files)