Welcome To The Harem
Morality Play by Pollyanna
Summary: Two wounded women talk about the men in their lives. One Son missing scene. PG.
From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2000 05:30:59 -0500 Subject: Morality Play (1/1) by Pollyanna Source: direct Reply To: 100257.1177@compuserve.com Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program "The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Title: Morality Play Author: Pollyanna E-mail address: 100257.1177@compuserve.com Rating: G Category: VA Spoilers: One Son Summary: Two wounded women talk about the men in their lives. Notes: This was written for the X-Files Lyric Wheel. If you would be interested in joining in a future wheel then have a look at http://www.tifling.demon.co.uk/wheel/wheel.htm The lyrics I was given were "What Would Happen' by Meredith Brooks and can be found with the version of the story at the Wheel Archive. Thanks as always to Spooky who reins in my tendency to be too English even though I still use UK spelling. =================== The blinking lights and small mechanical sounds of medical facilities had become familiar to Cassandra over the years. Sometimes they had given her something to focus on when the pain became too sharp. At other times their patterns served as objects to count when the boredom threatened to drive her out of her mind. More recently they had become the measured counterpoint to her thoughts of death. Irony had never been one of her strong points, but she did manage a wry smile at the paradox of her headlong quest for death, at the moment when she had never been in better health. So many of the constants in her life had changed into their opposites in a topsy-turvy alchemy that changed gold to lead. Suddenly there was a noise which did not match the antiseptic surroundings. A scurry amidst the shadows that made her think of rats, and her mind swiftly visualised other less terrestrial scavengers. "Who's there?" she quavered, not really sure if she wanted to be answered or not. Her voice seemed to echo loudly against the metal walls. "Shh! They mustn't find me here." A figure emerged from the dark corner of the room, hunched and faltering in a white hospital gown. As it moved into the light she could see it was a woman with drab hair and gaunt features. "Who are you?" she asked. Looking at the haggard woman before her, she almost felt tempted to say, 'What are you?' and it was if the woman heard the unspoken question. "One of their experiments." But then, as if recalling something from some long unused part of her brain, she said, "My name is Marita." "Mine's Cassandra." "I know. I saw them bring you in. I've seen files about you. You're the first aren't you?" The woman had looked up and studied her in fascination for a moment, but then looked at the floor again as if she could avoid being noticed if her eyes were downcast. Cassandra wondered if the dawning sympathy she felt for the wretch in front of her had been misplaced. "How did you know about me?" Marita answered, "I used to work for them. Followed their orders. Told Mulder what he wanted to know. Found out things. Tried not to get killed. I used to have information." The last was said with a hint of pride and she straightened a little, before shrinking down again. "But it didn't save me in the end. I was used for their tests." "Are you a hybrid too?" "No. They were testing a vaccine on me. It was successful so they don't really need me any longer. They just keep me around for samples and trot me out as an exhibit now and then." The anger which had briefly animated her voice changed to resignation. "It doesn't matter if you work for them or how loyal you are. They'll use you all the same." Marita was standing near enough now that Cassandra could reach out and hold one of her hands. It felt cold and dry, as brittle as a handful of fallen leaves. "I was married to one of them. Spender. His ring on my finger and it meant nothing compared to his great plan. He would make any sacrifice for the cause. Such a moral, moral man." She was surprised at how satisfying the bitterness felt. It warmed her like the burn of whisky on a cold winter's evening. "I met a man once who I thought was moral," said Marita wistfully. "A good man trapped by their lies. I was looking for information. Information is valuable, you know?" She glanced up at Cassandra fleetingly as if seeking her approval, so Cassandra nodded and squeezed her hand gently. "We met in a hospital ward surrounded by dying children, dying as part of the plan. He was horrified by them and for the first time, through his eyes, I really saw the shadows in which I existed. Just for a moment I wished it could all have been different, that I could have been innocent of all the intrigue. I imagined us meeting at some party; he would take me home and kiss me, and I would melt into him and be safe and warm." She was looking off into the distance and Cassandra suspected that this dream had not been confined to that one reckless moment but had been taken out and savoured through the dark days. She could sympathise with that. Her own dreams had kept her company over the years, her only loyal companions. But in the end she had seen clearly, and it seemed that Marita also knew when to face the cold light of day as she continued. "Even as I thought it, I knew it was impossible. We'd both left innocence behind a long time ago. I asked him to tell the truth but he wasn't strong enough to break free, not then." "Sometimes, even for the strongest, or for those we love the most, it's difficult. My son, Jeffrey, he's a good boy." She paused for a moment wondering if she had ever told him that. Had she thanked him for his care when she was ill? Praised him for how hard he had worked to get through college? "He tried so hard to do what was right, but he could never protect me, never even find the strength to believe me." This time it was Marita who offered silent comfort. Her other hand came up so that Cassandra's was cradled between hers. For the first time their eyes met and held as they offered understanding, the only gift that was still theirs to give. After a while Marita realised that her freedom of movement offered the chance of more generosity and asked, "Is there anything you want?" "Kill me." Cassandra knew even as she asked that she would be refused and grieved at breaking the fragile bond between them, but she had to take every chance. "I can't. If they find out it was me, they'll kill me too and I want to live. I'm sorry." She looked down again, ashamed of her own cowardice, unable to meet Cassandra's eyes. "It's all right. Perhaps you could find me something to drink?" suggested Cassandra, offering a small task that could be managed. Marita searched for a few moments and then came back with a cup of water and a straw. She helped Cassandra to sit up as far as possible against the restraints and held the cup so she could drink from the straw. The water tasted good, clean and fresh against her throat as it trickled down. She finished the cup and made a gurgling noise with the straw, making them both giggle and then glance nervously towards the door hoping no one had heard them. "Some more?" asked Marita. "Yes please. I hadn't realised how thirsty I was." She finished a second cup and then lay back. A voice sounded in the corridor outside and Marita began to edge back into the shadows. "I'd better go. If they found me ... " "Yes. They'll be coming to fetch me soon. Good luck. I hope you get away." She wanted to say more, about dreams coming true and happiness in the years to come but her own existence killed those hopes stillborn. "Good luck to you too. I hope ... " But Marita could not say the words. Marita watched and listened. She shut her ears against the cries for help and cowered in a corner as Spender came and went. There was nothing she could do but hide and wait. Then another man came, the son, distraught and saddened by the empty room, and she knew what to do. She had information and information was always valuable. "Please help me ... " THE END
"The X Files" is copyright and TM Ten Thirteen Productions, Twentieth Century Fox, and their related entities. This site, its operators and any content contained on this site relating to "The X-Files" are not authorised by Fox. This site is for personal entertainment purposes only and no infringement is intended.
|