Story 222: "The Laws of Coming and Going" by Buckingham
I love this story. I love everything Buckingham has written, so I don't know why we have only done one of her stories. This fic is set during season eight, sometime after "Dead Alive." Summary: Life after death.
"Tell me again," he says. His voice sounds coarse and needy even to his own ears, but somehow he's unashamed. "Please."
She's told him all of it already, a couple of times actually. He's heard about the wet, gritty snow and tough, dry flowers, how Frohike cried loudly and openly, like someone was tearing at his skin or ripping his fingernails off one by one, how her mother held her hand in a bone-crunching grip the entire time, as if she feared that Scully would slip through the cold earth to meet him, how the air was heavy with the smell of flames and it turned out that there was a house on fire, just five blocks from the cemetery, how Skinner's face was like stone, unmoving and unseeing, but his eyes held a wet glimmer of guilt, how Scully threw up in a dingy motel bathroom just before the car picked her up for the cemetery and how the baby just seemed like a heavy thing in her gut that day, an unbearable, painful weight.
She tells him it all once again, weaving her story of heartbreak, horror and hell with the same chilling seriousness that she used to deliver her case reports.
Yeah, it's melancholy. It suits my mood right now.
You can send email to this author. Please do, as the last I heard she was still working on a season seven story. I have also heard that feedback from readers encourages our writers to persevere. And we'd like to hear from you too, so please let us know what you think.
The nomination post is always open for business.
The link is to an archived copy, but if it goes down, or you prefer old-school text file formatting, you can find this story at Gossamer.
Read "The Laws of Coming and Going".
"Tell me again," he says. His voice sounds coarse and needy even to his own ears, but somehow he's unashamed. "Please."
She's told him all of it already, a couple of times actually. He's heard about the wet, gritty snow and tough, dry flowers, how Frohike cried loudly and openly, like someone was tearing at his skin or ripping his fingernails off one by one, how her mother held her hand in a bone-crunching grip the entire time, as if she feared that Scully would slip through the cold earth to meet him, how the air was heavy with the smell of flames and it turned out that there was a house on fire, just five blocks from the cemetery, how Skinner's face was like stone, unmoving and unseeing, but his eyes held a wet glimmer of guilt, how Scully threw up in a dingy motel bathroom just before the car picked her up for the cemetery and how the baby just seemed like a heavy thing in her gut that day, an unbearable, painful weight.
She tells him it all once again, weaving her story of heartbreak, horror and hell with the same chilling seriousness that she used to deliver her case reports.
Yeah, it's melancholy. It suits my mood right now.
You can send email to this author. Please do, as the last I heard she was still working on a season seven story. I have also heard that feedback from readers encourages our writers to persevere. And we'd like to hear from you too, so please let us know what you think.
The nomination post is always open for business.
The link is to an archived copy, but if it goes down, or you prefer old-school text file formatting, you can find this story at Gossamer.
Read "The Laws of Coming and Going".