Title: The Broadway Series part 1 of 4 "How Could I Ever Know?" Author: Kasey Miller Email: allthingsX1013@yahoo.com Distribution: Wherever. Spoilers: You need to be familiar with the whole cancer arc. Rating: R for language Classification: V, MSR Disclaimer: Of course they aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them. Timeline: When was this? Mid-fourth to early-fifth season? Somewhere around there with a rather noticeable slant to the left. Summary: I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of "Brighton Beach Memoirs," where the stereotypical Jewish mother says "Have you heard about Dana Scully? Cancer." in that conspiratorial whisper of hers. Author's Notes: Some here, some at the end. This series of vignettes is based on four songs from Broadway musicals. The lyrics are meant to flow in and around and over and under and through the words and emotions of the story; I'd like to think of it as the soundtrack to the piece. It's from Scully's POV, sort of a "Dear Diary" narrative. "How Could I Ever Know?" is from "The Secret Garden," with lyrics by Marsha Norman and music by Lucy Simon. _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ How could I know I would have to leave you How could I know I would hurt you so You were the one I was born to love Oh, how could I ever know How could I ever know The look on Mulder's face when I told him about my cancer nearly broke my heart. From the moment I received my diagnosis, I knew that Mulder would take it harder than any of my family members. He probably assumed that I would go down with him in a blaze of glory fighting some governmental conspiracy instead of succumbing to something so mundane as cancer. But cancer isn't nearly as mundane as one might think. I'm still not sure the whole experience has set in with me. I guess it's easier to not think about it when your best friend is in a state of denial and refuses to accept it. I guess I'm not Wonder Woman after all. I'm going to die, most likely within the next year. I didn't tell Mulder that part. I don't want to die. I don't want to leave my life, as fucked-up and bizarre as it may seem. I don't want to leave Mulder. Not now. Not until we've done what we've been put here to do together. How can I say to go on without me How when I know you still need me so How can I say not to dream about me How could I ever know How could I ever know I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of "Brighton Beach Memoirs," where the stereotypical Jewish mother says "Have you heard about Dana Scully? *Cancer*." in that conspiratorial whisper of hers. Skinner and Mulder have been treating me with kid gloves. It's really beginning to piss me off. I still feel fine, although I start a new kind of treatment tomorrow. Where I couldn't trust Dr. Scanlon, I feel that I can trust my new oncologist, Dr. Foley, implicitly. I've always felt more comfortable with female physicians. Mulder will be accompanying me to the hospital for my chemo and radiation. I could have asked my mother, but I know I need to involve Mulder in this whole process if we're ever going to survive. I need his comforting presence throughout this ordeal. He makes me feel safe. Plus, I know he won't get any work done if he's sitting in the office all by himself worrying. Forgive me Can you forgive me And hold me in your heart And find some new way to love me Now that we're apart I have made it a point to work until I can't. I don't know what the repercussions of the treatment will be. I don't even know if it will work. If Penny Northern is any example, then most likely it won't. But of course she was under the dubious care of Dr. Scanlon, so we will never know what might have been. I want to believe that I am doing everything I can to stop the growth of this tumor. The treatment left me weak and nauseous, just like we knew it would. Mulder took me home and let me vomit and change into pajamas. He fixed us some tea and we cuddled on the couch under my nice warm comforter. We didn't talk much, but I could feel the love and concern he feels for me in his snug embrace. My mom stopped by later that evening and found us asleep in front of the TV. I woke when I felt her kiss my head, and my heart broke once again when she placed the same light kiss on Mulder's head. My mother has always been fond of him in that son-in-law way. How I wish I could make that so for her, and for us. How could I know I would never hold you Never again in this world But oh, sure as I breathe I am there inside you How could I ever know How could I ever know? It's funny, the thoughts that my chemo-addled mind entertains these days. How strange it is to look at everything in my life and force myself to appreciate it more instead of taking it for granted like I always do. How I wish I could take mental snapshots of each moment and paste it in a memory book to pull out later. But if I keep on that train of thought, eventually it leads to Mulder. How I wish we could stop working and stop pretending and just live for as long as possible. I want to go down to the ocean and walk along the shore holding his hand. I want to go to Cedar Point and ride all those famous roller coasters and take the ferry out to Put-in-Bay and drink myself silly. I want to be able to do these things without feeling like it's for the last time. _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ TITLE: The Broadway Series 2 of 4 "Will I?" AUTHOR: Kasey Miller EMAIL: AllthingsX1013@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: In part one SPOILER WARNING: Cancer arc RATING: R for one bad word. CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR DISCLAIMER: Not mine TIMELINE: Cancer arc with a slight jog to the left. SUMMARY: Will I lose my dignity? AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just need to acknowledge the song. "Will I?" is from that wonderful musical "Rent" by Jonathon Larson. Rest in Peace. _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare? The treatment, this radiation and chemotherapy that I am subjecting myself to, is taking its toll on me. Dr. Foley warned that it would get worse before it got any better. She wasn't kidding. I have no appetite. I continue to lose weight. And today my brush had even larger clumps of hair in it. But hey, at least the nosebleeds have stopped. I look like shit. There is no other way to put it. I've given up on trying to cover the dark circles under my eyes with makeup. The shocked look that Skinner gave me the other day is a good indication of how I appear to other people. But I'm sure if you asked Mulder, he would smile and say I was still the most beautiful woman he knows. If Mulder was any objective indication at all, you'd think that nothing had changed. Of course he's not very objective though. The hair thing is really getting to me. I knew it was going to happen. I accepted that consequence in the very beginning. But it's something completely different when it actually starts happening to you. I don't want to seem vain, but today, it's the last straw. I think I'm going to call in to work and make Mulder come over. He won't understand the hair thing but he makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich. I'm not particularly hungry for food but I'm starving for his love. _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ TITLE: The Broadway Series 3 of 4 "Heaven Help My Heart" AUTHOR: Kasey Miller EMAIL: AllthingsX1013@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: See part one SPOILERS: Cancer arc RATING: R for language, 'cause Scully's got a potty mouth CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR TIMELINE: See part one SUMMARY: Don't you know that time is not my friend? AUTHOR'S NOTES: This song is an oldie but goodie. "Heaven Help My Heart" is from "Chess" by Benny Andersson, Tim Rice, and Bjorn Ulvaeus. _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ If it were love I would give that love every second I had And I do Did I know where he'd lead me to? Did I plan doing all of this for the love of a man? Big Brother Bill is at it again. There is no government conspiracy or Cigarette Smoking antagonist in existence that can break Mulder's unwavering dedication and courage. But my brother Bill can make him into a pile of self- loathing crap in less than five minutes. If I wasn't so tired I'd punch Bill in his big stupid head. Bill knows that Mulder didn't give me cancer. Mulder knows that he didn't give me cancer. Bill just has this sneaky little way of making everything bad that's happened to me in the last four years seem like part of some big scheme to destroy me that Mulder's been concocting in his head. Whatever. I guess it would be sort of mean if I told Bill that Mulder kissed me. Or rather that I kissed him. Well I let it happen anyhow And what I'm doing now has no easy explanation Reason plays no part Heaven help my heart I could dismiss our kiss as an accident, but it wasn't. We were snuggling over the weekend and I couldn't help myself. He was just so...kissable. The subsequent kissing and touching made me feel like a horny teenager again. At least the cancer hasn't taken away my desire for Mulder. It's just given me a good reason to take the final step. I love him too much What if he finds my whole existence Turning around A word a smile a touch I never once thought that anything that happened between us now could be misconstrued. That our tender kisses and caresses might make one of us think that this came about for any other reason than love. Leave it to Mulder to let his mind do the talking instead of his body and heart. I wanted to neck, he wanted to analyze. Damn psychologists. So we processed for a while and I convinced him that I understood that it wasn't a pity fuck or whatever. Then we resumed. One of these days and it won't be long He'll know more about me than he should All my dreams will be understood No surprise - nothing more to learn from the look in my eyes I wasn't lying when I said it wasn't out of pity. It was out of love, but it was also out of the realization that we didn't have the time to screw around with professional ethics or a greater agenda. It was all about the right here and now. We talked late into the night, about plans for the future. I told him I wanted one vacation with him before I got too sick. He swore to keep searching for a cure, still certain that what caused my cancer could be reversed. My hero. Don't you know that time is not my friend? I'll fight it to the end Hoping to keep that best of moments When the passion starts Heaven help my heart I'm not sure how much time we have left. I want to do so much while I'm still able to enjoy it. I have taken an indefinite leave of absence from the Bureau, and Bill, Tara, and Charlie have all flown out to visit me. And Mulder. I think it's pretty much been made official now that we're a package deal. Especially since I kissed him goodbye in front of everyone. Bill turned that lovely shade of red again and mom got all misty-eyed. I'm glad Mulder and Charlie get along at least. They're both sports nuts so they spent the afternoon talking in the kitchen and avoiding the wrath of Bill. I have no qualms about being demonstrative with Mulder in front of Charlie. He's not the overprotective, controlling brother. The day that I find Suddenly I've run out of secrets Suddenly I'm not always on his mind Maybe it's best to love a stranger Well that's what I've done Heaven help my heart In the midst of my own personal tragedy, I've found a patch of happiness with Mulder. What I didn't count on was the guilt I feel when I see the pained expression on his face everytime we come home from the doctor's office. Or when I pull out another clump of hair. Or when I step on the scale and see I've lost even more weight. Or when we go out to eat and I just pick at my food. God, I don't want his last memories of me to be like this. I am pushing him even harder to take some time off with me so we can get away for a while. He's mainly just keeping up appearances at the Bureau while I'm out. I need him with me. It's that simple. The only thing I'm sorry for is that it took a deadly disease to bring us together. Perhaps we would have finally come to our senses somewhere down the road, years in the future, but we don't have that time. I think it's only right that we have this time now. Christ, it's only fucking fair. _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ TITLE: The Broadway Series 4 of 4 "Seasons of Love" AUTHOR: Kasey Miller EMAIL: AllthingsX1013@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: See part one SPOILER: Cancer arc RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR TIMELINE: See part one SUMMARY: How do you measure the life of a woman or a man? AUTHOR'S NOTES: If you've ever heard this song, you'll understand why I absolutely had to use it. It's one of those you pop in the CD player and set on repeat. "Seasons of Love" is from "Rent" by Jonathon Larson. Rest in Peace and thank you for sharing your talent with we-who-are-not-worthy. _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes How do you measure - measure a year? New Year's Eve. Another year in the history books. Like sands through the hourglass. What a year it's been. It started inconspicuously enough; but then again, don't they all? A lot of changes happened this year. Tonight we're staying in. I'm too tired nowadays to do much, and I'm even more thankful for Mulder's presence in my life. He's surprisingly handy for those everyday chores that you often take for granted, like watering plants, washing dishes, and doing laundry. He stays here more often than not, sharing my bed and keeping me safe and warm. In daylights - in sunsets In midnights - in cups of coffee In inches - in miles In laughter - in strife I finally convinced him to take some time off. We finally took that vacation I wanted. Nothing spectacular - we drove down to Virginia Beach and played in the sand and stayed in a lovely bed and breakfast on the coast. It was just the ticket. Now it's difficult for me to even make it through a doctor's visit without getting completely exhausted. I'm glad we travelled while we could. In - Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes How do you measure a year in the life? How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love Seasons of love Seasons of love My new favorite game to play with Mulder is "Guess the X-File." He'll use that magnificent mind of his to think of details from cases we've investigated together and I have to figure out who the criminal was (or monster, or whatever.) That can entertain us for hours. We also talk about our history as partners and friends. It all started when I asked him what was *really* going through his mind on our first case when I came into his hotel room and stripped. His answer made me realize that it's always been both root beer and iced tea for us. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes How do you measure the life of a woman or a man? Last week we found out the cancer has metastasized into my bloodstream. So we sat down with my mother and had an utterly horrible conversation about my final arrangements. I had already drawn up my will and given it to my lawyer. That was the easy part. The Bureau required all unmarried field agents to have a current one on file. Mom wants me to go through the whole elaborate Mass thing and I've been leaning toward a more simplistic service. I know what music I want and who I want to deliver the eulogy. I just don't know if Mulder will be able to make it through a whole speech. In the end we decided that Father McCue will oversee the service, it will be as Catholic as possible (to satisfy my mother) will lots of time for people to speak. There will be a private graveside service for family and invited friends at Holy Road Catholic Cemetery with the U.S. Naval Observatory keeping watch. In truths that she learned or in times that he cried In the bridges he burned or the way that she died It's time now - to sing out tho' the story never ends Let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends But right now I don't want to think about coffins and flowers and funerals. I want to snuggle down with my main squeeze and watch Dick Clark freeze his ass off in Times Square. I want to look back on this last year, not in anger or regret, but with joyful remembrance. I want to make sure Mulder is doing okay, and that he will be okay in the coming months. I know he feels more helpless with each passing day, and I can't do anything to assure him of his importance to me. So tonight, I'm going to share my journal with him that I've been keeping since I was assigned to the X- Files. If that doesn't convince him of my love and affection for him, then I give up. Remember the love Remember the love Remember the love Measure in love (Measure your life in love) I once thought that I could make a difference in this world by joining the FBI. Now I know it doesn't matter. My career at the Bureau is not how I want my life to be measured and remembered. My credentials as a medical doctor aren't going to mean diddly squat in the afterlife. You can't take it with you. But what does matter is that I made a difference in each life I touched. I need to know that, even if just for a little while, Frohike will remember me when he sees a short redhead. I need to know that Skinner be reminded of me whenever he argues with one of his agents. I need to know that the Cigarette Smoking Man's last thought is going to be of me when Mulder finds him and throttles him to death. I don't want to think about Mulder though. I know it's going to be hard. I know how hard it would be for me to lose him, and knowing Mulder's capacity for grieving and guilt, it'll be exponentially more difficult for him once I'm gone. I love him. He is my world. He is my one true soul mate. And I have faith that we will be together again, in another life, in another universe, in another realm. I'm not afraid anymore. I want to believe. Seasons of love Seasons of love _____________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________ More author's notes: I know this is story is essentially beating a dead horse...sue me. But it needed to be explored in my head and written down for posterity. I would like to recognize some of the people that I've come to know better since my first venture into fan fiction: Shannon, for the kindred spirit and hot hot hot stories; Jeylan, for the incredible inspiration and sympathetic ear when all I could talk about was my infuriating writer's block; and Susan, for her unbelievable writing and her ability to lift my mood with a lovely little vignette. I would also like to thank Adrianna for the fun and friendship we've shared. Although we may be miles and years apart, I'm glad we can still "hang out" and quote the bloopers verbatim. You validate my otherwise pathetic existence. Finally, last but never, never least, I would like to recognize the love of my life, the Scully to my Mulder. Aimee, I have been blessed by your presence in my life, and am truly grateful. I love you.