text file (3k)
He is risen, indeed.
RATING: for all ages
CLASSIFICATION: V
SPOILER WARNING: DeadAlive
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
* * * * *
Resurrection.
It was something that Scully had never really contemplated before. It was an essential tenet of her faith, and thus she embraced it or discarded it as her belief waxed and waned, but she had never fully considered whether she could accept it as a fact in and of itself.
If she was honest with herself, it was one of those questions she avoided asking because of the implications of the answer. As a doctor, she knew she couldn't accept the claim that a human being could be buried and dead and then be healthy and alive again days later. It wasn't scientifically possible. Death was a one-way journey, and the body, the discarded luggage. You couldn't return and reclaim the flesh. It just didn't happen.
But these days, she's no longer sure what to believe. Belief seems more tangible to her than science, and the inexplicable is her new reality. The laws of the universe were apparently made to be broken, and she stands witness, overwhelmed.
In this land of miracles, the barren conceive, and the dead live again. Resurrection is possible. Perhaps it is even to be expected. She isn't sure, since she no longer understands the rules.
All she knows for sure is that he was dead. She held his lifeless body. She touched his decaying flesh. She stood watch as they sealed him in the casket and then lowered him into the ground.
He was dead. And then he wasn't.
He is risen.
As she sits by his side now and holds his hand, her fingers resting on his steady pulse, she turns toward the window to view the rising of the sun as its first rays break through the darkness and begin to warm her face. The light that was extinguished the night before, leaving behind only gloom and chill, has fulfilled its promise and returned. New hope has dawned.
She returns her gaze to the sleeping form in the bed as her free hand absently fingers the cross at her neck. Not a crucifix, but an empty cross. He is not here; he is risen.
He is risen, indeed.
THE END
* * * * *
Author's Notes: Since I can't figure out the season 8 timeline, I have no idea when Mulder's resurrection really occurs, but for this story, just pretend with me that it happens at Easter.
Send feedback to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
CLASSIFICATION: V
SPOILER WARNING: DeadAlive
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.
* * * * *
Resurrection.
It was something that Scully had never really contemplated before. It was an essential tenet of her faith, and thus she embraced it or discarded it as her belief waxed and waned, but she had never fully considered whether she could accept it as a fact in and of itself.
If she was honest with herself, it was one of those questions she avoided asking because of the implications of the answer. As a doctor, she knew she couldn't accept the claim that a human being could be buried and dead and then be healthy and alive again days later. It wasn't scientifically possible. Death was a one-way journey, and the body, the discarded luggage. You couldn't return and reclaim the flesh. It just didn't happen.
But these days, she's no longer sure what to believe. Belief seems more tangible to her than science, and the inexplicable is her new reality. The laws of the universe were apparently made to be broken, and she stands witness, overwhelmed.
In this land of miracles, the barren conceive, and the dead live again. Resurrection is possible. Perhaps it is even to be expected. She isn't sure, since she no longer understands the rules.
All she knows for sure is that he was dead. She held his lifeless body. She touched his decaying flesh. She stood watch as they sealed him in the casket and then lowered him into the ground.
He was dead. And then he wasn't.
He is risen.
As she sits by his side now and holds his hand, her fingers resting on his steady pulse, she turns toward the window to view the rising of the sun as its first rays break through the darkness and begin to warm her face. The light that was extinguished the night before, leaving behind only gloom and chill, has fulfilled its promise and returned. New hope has dawned.
She returns her gaze to the sleeping form in the bed as her free hand absently fingers the cross at her neck. Not a crucifix, but an empty cross. He is not here; he is risen.
He is risen, indeed.
THE END
* * * * *
Author's Notes: Since I can't figure out the season 8 timeline, I have no idea when Mulder's resurrection really occurs, but for this story, just pretend with me that it happens at Easter.
Send feedback to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com