X-FILES FIC :: "Breaking Point" [Dana/Monica, PG13]
Title: "Breaking Point"
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Feedback address: stormwriter@shatterstorm.net
Fandom: The X-Files/LWM
Pairing: Dana/Monica
Rating: PG13
Dates Written: 7 February 2011
Word Count: 1168
Written for:
poetry_ficathon's Anne Sexton round
Summary: A breaking point has been reached. What will the outcome be?
Spoilers: This is totally an AU for Dana & Monica where the X-Files never actually existed as it did in the series.
Warnings: n/a
Website: ShatterStorm Productions - Light, Water, Muses
Archive: ShatterStorm Productions only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…
Prompt:
Some nights in our bed her mouth snores at me coldly
or when she turns, her kisses walking out of the sea,
I think of the bad stories,
the monster and the wreck.
I think of that Scandinavian tale
that tells of the king who killed nine
sons in turn. Slaughtered wholesale,
they had one life in common
as you have mine,
my son.
- from "The Hangman" by Anne Sexton
Disclaimers:
Beta:
shatterpath
"Breaking Point"
By A. Magiluna Stormwriter
From the personal journal of Monica Reyes
August 7, 2007
What in the hell is going on in my life lately? I am feeling completely and utterly out of control, and I have absolutely no idea how to fix it. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Not in the five years we've known and loved each other. We've fought before, of course, but never once have we purposely gone to bed angry. Even if it's meant having to sit up all damned night long, we've always worked out the issues before letting Morpheus exert his control over us.
But not this time. Dana's being particularly stubborn and pigheaded. There's no question that she's got a bullheaded streak in her; she doesn't back down from a fight if she knows she's right. In fact, it's one of the things I absolutely adore about her.
But not this time.
I just… She's completely blown the situation out of proportion, refuses to see that she has, and completely shuts down every single time I try to explain what's actually going on. Every. Single. Time. I've never been an adherent to the idea of physical violence as a means of assuaging frustration, but right now it's a damned tempting option. And that thought horrifies me in ways that I just cannot express adequately. There are no words for the horror and revulsion that I feel whenever the stray thought pops up in my mind of just slapping her into silence so she'll actually listen to me.
I'd leave, but that's just not an option. If I leave, then it's all over, and I can't accept that as my only option at this po
The knock at the door scares the ever loving hell out of me, pen skittering across the page mid-word. The lurid red of the time on the DVD player shows that it's three in the morning. Who in the hell could be at the door at this late hour? Just as I'm pushing the chair back to get up, the door opens and Dace steps in, a dark fury in her eyes that I haven't seen in a long, long time.
"Where is she?" Her words are clipped, coldly flat. Shit, this isn't good. She tilts her head almost imperceptibly, nostrils flaring, before she walks toward the bedroom and throws the door open. "Get your ass out here, Scully."
I can feel my hands go through the motions of closing and locking the journal, recapping the fountain pen I only use for this purpose. Anything to keep from turning around to watch the train wreck I can feel barreling toward me at a breakneck speed.
"What in the fuck are you doing, Dace? Put me down, damn it!"
At Dana's startled and almost fearful tone, I am finally on my feet and turning around to stop whatever this is. Dace has Dana thrown over her shoulder and is coming back into the living room, ignoring Dana's protests. She pauses for a moment, eyes darting toward William's bedroom, before unceremoniously dumping Dana onto the couch.
"I love you both," she says in that deadly tone that brooks no argument. "You need to know that first and foremost. And the things you've done for this entire family here are greatly appreciated."
"But?" I ask when she pauses again to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"But you need to get your shit figured out, and fast."
"This is really none of your business."
That was a singularly bad move, Dana, my love. She knows as well as I do not to mess with Dace when she's in this particular mood. The gold flash of the cougar transforms those bright blue eyes as Dace leans over, face mere millimeters from Dana's face.
"Normally, I'd agree with you, but not this time. Your fighting, or lack of it, is affecting me, my kids, Alexis, and every other Sentinel in this complex. You have two choices: fix your shit or get the fuck out. Period."
She stares at Dana for a few more seconds, only standing when Dana drops her own brightly burning gaze. Dace walks into William's room, and I can hear the shuffling and murmuring before she comes back out with our groggy son in her arms. My mouth goes dry with fear, even as I know instinctively what she's doing.
"Where are you--?"
"He's your son, but he doesn't need to be involved in this, so he's coming with me. You can come get him at eight. Fix this in the next five hours, or pack up your shit and get the fuck off this complex."
With that, she stalks out of the apartment, door still gaping open in her wake, and disappears into the darkness of the desert night. Silence settles over the apartment, oppressively heavy, and my body wants to panic at the imagined lack of oxygen in the room.
"She can't do that. We own--"
"Stop it, Dana." At my sharp retort, she turns to stare at me, and I can see the fight building in her eyes again. Forcing myself to breathe more slowly than I want to, I fight the urge to flee after Dace and William. "We need to talk about this. You need to listen to me."
"No, I don't."
"You know what? I'm done fighting with you, Dana. You may not want to hear this right now, but there is nothing going on between me and Prentiss. I don't know how else to explain this to you and, frankly, I'm tired of trying. I can't do this anymore. Either you believe me or you don't. And if you don't, you're a damned fool, because I love you and I have never cheated on you, nor would I ever even think of doing so. But if you can't see that? I don't know."
Heading into the bedroom, I take my time to change into sweats and tennis shoes, giving her a chance to say something, do something. When she doesn't, I sigh heavily and walk back into the living room to gather up journal, pen, and water bottle. "You need to do some soul-searching, Dana, and figure out what the hell you want out of this. I can't do it for you, and I can't handle being the target of your misplaced anger and jealousy.
"I love you, Dana Katherine Scully, and I always have. I have never been anything but wholly faithful to you and our son. If you can't see that, then I don't know what else to do. Right now, I need to get out of here and get some air. If you need me, I'll be out in the gazebo. If eight o'clock rolls around and I haven't heard from you, I'll know your answer. I won't like it, but I'll accept it."
And with that, I step out of the only home I've had for five years and into the desert night to await my fate.
Original post @ Dreamwidth with
comments. Commenting is welcome on either post.
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Feedback address: stormwriter@shatterstorm.net
Fandom: The X-Files/LWM
Pairing: Dana/Monica
Rating: PG13
Dates Written: 7 February 2011
Word Count: 1168
Written for:
poetry_ficathon's Anne Sexton round
Summary: A breaking point has been reached. What will the outcome be?
Spoilers: This is totally an AU for Dana & Monica where the X-Files never actually existed as it did in the series.
Warnings: n/a
Website: ShatterStorm Productions - Light, Water, Muses
Archive: ShatterStorm Productions only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…
Prompt:
Some nights in our bed her mouth snores at me coldly
or when she turns, her kisses walking out of the sea,
I think of the bad stories,
the monster and the wreck.
I think of that Scandinavian tale
that tells of the king who killed nine
sons in turn. Slaughtered wholesale,
they had one life in common
as you have mine,
my son.
- from "The Hangman" by Anne Sexton
Disclaimers:
- "The X-Files," the characters and situations depicted are the property of Chris Carter, Twentieth Century Fox Television, Ten Thirteen Productions, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This site is in no way affiliated with "The X-Files," Ten Thirteen Productions, Twentieth Century Fox Television, or any representative of the actors.
- "The Division," all publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Lifetime Television, Kedzie Productions, Viacom Productions, and Paramount. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. . This site is in no way affiliated with "The Division", Lifetime Television, or any representatives of the actors.
- All original characters belong to ShatterStorm Productions and are the creations of A. Magiluna Stormwriter and Shatterpath. They also belong in the Light, Water, Muses universe, tho’ this is a standalone within the whole of that universe.
Beta:
shatterpath
"Breaking Point"
By A. Magiluna Stormwriter
From the personal journal of Monica Reyes
August 7, 2007
What in the hell is going on in my life lately? I am feeling completely and utterly out of control, and I have absolutely no idea how to fix it. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Not in the five years we've known and loved each other. We've fought before, of course, but never once have we purposely gone to bed angry. Even if it's meant having to sit up all damned night long, we've always worked out the issues before letting Morpheus exert his control over us.
But not this time. Dana's being particularly stubborn and pigheaded. There's no question that she's got a bullheaded streak in her; she doesn't back down from a fight if she knows she's right. In fact, it's one of the things I absolutely adore about her.
But not this time.
I just… She's completely blown the situation out of proportion, refuses to see that she has, and completely shuts down every single time I try to explain what's actually going on. Every. Single. Time. I've never been an adherent to the idea of physical violence as a means of assuaging frustration, but right now it's a damned tempting option. And that thought horrifies me in ways that I just cannot express adequately. There are no words for the horror and revulsion that I feel whenever the stray thought pops up in my mind of just slapping her into silence so she'll actually listen to me.
I'd leave, but that's just not an option. If I leave, then it's all over, and I can't accept that as my only option at this po
The knock at the door scares the ever loving hell out of me, pen skittering across the page mid-word. The lurid red of the time on the DVD player shows that it's three in the morning. Who in the hell could be at the door at this late hour? Just as I'm pushing the chair back to get up, the door opens and Dace steps in, a dark fury in her eyes that I haven't seen in a long, long time.
"Where is she?" Her words are clipped, coldly flat. Shit, this isn't good. She tilts her head almost imperceptibly, nostrils flaring, before she walks toward the bedroom and throws the door open. "Get your ass out here, Scully."
I can feel my hands go through the motions of closing and locking the journal, recapping the fountain pen I only use for this purpose. Anything to keep from turning around to watch the train wreck I can feel barreling toward me at a breakneck speed.
"What in the fuck are you doing, Dace? Put me down, damn it!"
At Dana's startled and almost fearful tone, I am finally on my feet and turning around to stop whatever this is. Dace has Dana thrown over her shoulder and is coming back into the living room, ignoring Dana's protests. She pauses for a moment, eyes darting toward William's bedroom, before unceremoniously dumping Dana onto the couch.
"I love you both," she says in that deadly tone that brooks no argument. "You need to know that first and foremost. And the things you've done for this entire family here are greatly appreciated."
"But?" I ask when she pauses again to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"But you need to get your shit figured out, and fast."
"This is really none of your business."
That was a singularly bad move, Dana, my love. She knows as well as I do not to mess with Dace when she's in this particular mood. The gold flash of the cougar transforms those bright blue eyes as Dace leans over, face mere millimeters from Dana's face.
"Normally, I'd agree with you, but not this time. Your fighting, or lack of it, is affecting me, my kids, Alexis, and every other Sentinel in this complex. You have two choices: fix your shit or get the fuck out. Period."
She stares at Dana for a few more seconds, only standing when Dana drops her own brightly burning gaze. Dace walks into William's room, and I can hear the shuffling and murmuring before she comes back out with our groggy son in her arms. My mouth goes dry with fear, even as I know instinctively what she's doing.
"Where are you--?"
"He's your son, but he doesn't need to be involved in this, so he's coming with me. You can come get him at eight. Fix this in the next five hours, or pack up your shit and get the fuck off this complex."
With that, she stalks out of the apartment, door still gaping open in her wake, and disappears into the darkness of the desert night. Silence settles over the apartment, oppressively heavy, and my body wants to panic at the imagined lack of oxygen in the room.
"She can't do that. We own--"
"Stop it, Dana." At my sharp retort, she turns to stare at me, and I can see the fight building in her eyes again. Forcing myself to breathe more slowly than I want to, I fight the urge to flee after Dace and William. "We need to talk about this. You need to listen to me."
"No, I don't."
"You know what? I'm done fighting with you, Dana. You may not want to hear this right now, but there is nothing going on between me and Prentiss. I don't know how else to explain this to you and, frankly, I'm tired of trying. I can't do this anymore. Either you believe me or you don't. And if you don't, you're a damned fool, because I love you and I have never cheated on you, nor would I ever even think of doing so. But if you can't see that? I don't know."
Heading into the bedroom, I take my time to change into sweats and tennis shoes, giving her a chance to say something, do something. When she doesn't, I sigh heavily and walk back into the living room to gather up journal, pen, and water bottle. "You need to do some soul-searching, Dana, and figure out what the hell you want out of this. I can't do it for you, and I can't handle being the target of your misplaced anger and jealousy.
"I love you, Dana Katherine Scully, and I always have. I have never been anything but wholly faithful to you and our son. If you can't see that, then I don't know what else to do. Right now, I need to get out of here and get some air. If you need me, I'll be out in the gazebo. If eight o'clock rolls around and I haven't heard from you, I'll know your answer. I won't like it, but I'll accept it."
And with that, I step out of the only home I've had for five years and into the desert night to await my fate.
Original post @ Dreamwidth with
comments. Commenting is welcome on either post.