Subject: NEW: Nothing Else Mattered (1/1) by Eileen S. Whipple Date: Sun, 28 Nov 1999 14:13:43 -0700 From: "Eileen S. Whipple" Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative I didn't see this posted at all to the news group so I'll send it again. Title: Nothing Else Mattered Author: Eileen S. Whipple Email: whipples@connect.ab.ca Classification: VA, Mulder/Other Rating: PG, just to be safe Keywords: Pre-XF Summary: "...no soul should be that dirty with guilt and misery." Archive: Sure but keep my name and email addy attached, and tell me where. I'll say yes, but I want to know where to visit! DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter owns X-Files, and I just borrowed characters for a minute. He'll get everything back in one piece. "Edge of Seventeen" belongs to Stevie Nicks, the Goddess. I used it without permission but I did it no harm. (Lyrics obtained from The Nicks Fix - http://www.nicksfix.com) Author's Notes: This is a very experimental piece, and any mistakes (such as lack of capitalized letters where they should be, or tense change) are deliberate. This is a diary entry, to be exact. This isn't a song fic, just a story inspired by Stevie Nicks' song. And... SHIPPERS, WATCH OUT! There. I warned you all! As you read, it's not who you think! To my Desert Angel, Stephanie, who always pushes me to finish things... ********************** Nothing Else Mattered by Eileen S. Whipple November 22 - 24, 1999 ********************** *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "He was no more than a baby then Well he seemed broken-hearted something within him From the moment that I first laid Eyes on him all alone On the edge of seventeen." *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* August 5, 1978 He came running to me, running in the night. The midnight sky lit by a large white moon. It was a pristine orb in the starry sky, and he came to me... he wanted me to hold him. I did without hesitation. I met him in the tree house out back only after seeing his tall shadow outside my window. He came running from his home but always running from his demons, always so sad that it made me ache inside. He didn't know it but I felt we were kindred spirits. He was nearly seventeen, and I was younger, but our families sometimes made us hurt inside. He was alone in what he felt... he'd been the only one there when his little sister was taken and he was the only one blamed for not watching her and stopping it from happening and protecting her. he came to me in night's shade and I could see it in his beautiful hazel eyes and his amazing rainbow soul. he was sullied by the pain that consumed him and no soul should be that dirty with guilt and misery. I saw him creep across the backyard to the tall tree. My cousins' old tree house was our meeting spot and I was ready by the time he turned the flashlight on and off three times fast, the beam flashing through my window. My robe was within reach but I just climbed out of my room in the long nightshirt I wore to bed. the grass was cold and green and pointy as I jogged barefoot to the tree. I reached the base and started up the ladder. Something had to be up because he never usually came by this late. He was huddled in the corner, a knit blanket draped over his shoulders. I climbed inside, cutting my knee as I crawled across the wood floor. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, face hidden in the shadows. When he raised his head I saw the tears on his face. Tears were part of his sensitive soul. Still, he rarely cried in front of me. "Bad dream?" I asked, inching to his side. He nodded slowly and said, "Along with another fight with my dad." I put my arm around him and he immediately placed his head on my shoulder so I held him close like a baby and didn't mind when more tears stained my shirt or when he reached out and gently touched my bloody knee. Never had we been this close, and he didn't know my true feelings for him. I love him, I wanted him to know I love him, I wanted him to let me love him like someone as unique and beautiful as he should be loved. "People's feelings can go unnoticed by parents," I whispered. "It's not that unusual." "I try to be a good son but my parents always get mad at me." I felt his hand grasping at my left hip -- he was trying to hold me tight. "It's all because of what happened to her." "Samantha? That wasn't your fault." This had been eating him up for nearly five years. That night I wished he could go a day without the pain of the memory, without his mother staring at a picture of her youngest child. "You're the only one I can really talk to," he said into my shoulder. "I'm going to miss you when your family leaves the Vineyard." He looked up at me and I looked down at him and I bowed my head... he kissed me, I kissed him and in the middle of all this sadness, I felt happiness. As I slid my tongue over his lower lip and he touched my bare thigh, I sensed he was happy for the moment as well. I knew Dad would've killed me if he found me alone with a boy, especially this late at night. But that didn't matter. Nothing outside the tree house mattered. He pulled away from me, a look of fear in his eyes. "I've lost people I loved but I can't ever lose you. We shouldn't do anything." "You can never lose anyone who lives in your heart," I said, running my fingers through his soft brown hair. "Just rest and maybe things will be better in the morning." He curled up against me, his head resting in my lap, and I smiled. "What if your dad finds us together?" "Fox, don't worry. Nothing else matters now. You need to sleep." I thought I'd be cold with bare legs but his body was my heat. He lifted his head and managed to pull me down beside him. We were face to face and he pressed his hand against my side, dangerously close to my breast. I wedged my foot between his legs, and he said, "I love you, Missy." I replied with a feathery kiss on his lips, and he fell asleep. I was awake for a long while afterward, listening to him breathe, touching his face, and I finally drifted off after looping my arms around him, pulling his face to my shoulder. His soul was warm, and the cold didn't bother me at all. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Said to my friend, baby... Nothin' else mattered." *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I'm a shipper with an open mind, and a shipper who likes Melissa Scully. So, comments? Flames? whipples@connect.ab.ca