See disclaimers in part 1. REKINDLING III: BACKDRAFT (4/4) by Jennifer Farwell rfarwell@foxnet.net * * * * * December 24th, 1997. It was Christmas Eve now, one day before Tristan's timeline was predicted to be over. I'd seen him earlier in the day, and wished him a Merry Christmas. Seeing him there, I wished for a miracle. For him to remain alive was all that I wanted for Christmas. I was getting ready, now, to go over to Mulder's apartment. He'd been so wonderful to me since he'd found out what was going on, on Sunday. He left me alone when I needed to be, and was there to hug me when I needed that, too. I needed him tonight, though. Soon, we would be having the special dinner he'd over a week ago, and celebrating our first Christmas together. In spite of Tristan's dwindling life, I knew I had a lot to be celebrating. He'd made me realize how precious life really was. It was time to celebrate the most simple, yet most complicated thing of all: being alive. I appraised myself in the mirror. I wore a deep blue dress, made of crushed velvet, shoes to match, a little more makeup than usual and had put my hair into loose waves. I was just putting on a small diamond stud earring, when my phone rang. Sarah Saunders was on the other end of the line, sobbing. "Dana, he's lapsed into a coma. Please come... he's dying." After hanging up, I left my apartment in a flurry of motion, grabbing only my car keys and coat. * * * * * My apartment looked fabulous. I'd actually cleaned it thoroughly for Dana, and set a pretty decent table. I had to. Tonight was going to be special. Checking my watch, I realized that Scully should be arriving soon. If butterflies in one's stomach represented nervousness, I think I had an entire colony of bat-sized flutterers nesting in mine. I both couldn't wait and felt apprehensive about what I was going to do tonight, Christmas Eve, 1997. I took a look at the black velvet box in my hands, that contained the ring Day had pointed out to me weeks earlier, in the jewelry store. I was going to ask her to marry me. A timer went off in the kitchen, and I quickly slipped the small box into my suit jacket pocket. There would be a lot more time to admire the ring later, if everything went as planned. For now, it was time to perfect the meal. Minutes before Dana was to arrive, I had the candles lit and romantic instrumental music playing quietly in the background. The meal I'd prepared smelled more than delicious. Still, I paced nervously. This was the night every man dreamed of. This was the night I wanted to tell Scully that I wanted to be with her, forever. An hour later, my suit jacket was hanging on the back of a chair, and I'd blown the candles out. I'd tried calling Dana about eight times - at home, and on her cell phone. There was no answer, anywhere. I began to panic, looking at the snow outside of the window. It was finally snowing, the night before Christmas. It was starting to snow hard. I prayed that she hadn't been in an accident. I listened to the radio for accident reports, and kept trying to call her, with no results. All I could wonder was, where was she? * * * * * Tristan's mother, father, a doctor, and a priest greeted me when I arrived at the Saunders' home. Tristan himself was lying, comatose, in the living room. He was still alive, but barely. I only hoped that he could hear me still, in his condition. I knelt down beside his still form, taking his hand and holding it against my face. I knew that there would be no Christmas miracle for us, the ones who cared so much about Tristan. So instead, it was time to say goodbye. I let myself weep now, unable to prevent it. Through the tears, I managed to speak to him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Tristan... my dear, dear, loving friend. I love you. All my life, you were here for me, and I hope I was there for you, too. You've been such a good friend, and I'm blessed to have known you. I don't understand why you were chosen to leave this Earth, to move on into a different existence, but all I can cling to is that it will be better, over there. Heaven will be lucky to have you." Sniffling, I stood up. "Goodbye, my friend." It wasn't a minute later, when Tristan took his final breath. I saw an expression of peace settle across his face, through my blinding tears. I heard Sarah's sorrowful cry, and watched as James embraced her tightly. There was no one to embrace me here, to comfort me now. I needed Mulder, more than ever. * * * * * I'm not sure how I made it over to his apartment, without driving myself right off the road. I was on auto-pilot, feeling nothing but the moisture on my cheeks. I stumbled out of my car, and took the elevator up to Mulder's place. I felt so exhausted, an in so much pain. Weakly, I rapped on the door. A few short moments later, Mulder opened the it, immediately becoming alarmed when he saw me. I was a trembling mess. Quickly, he guided me inside the apartment, closing the door, then wrapped his arms around me. "Oh my God, Dana. What's wrong?" For a long while, I couldn't answer him. I simply stood there, sobbing in the comfort of his embrace. He was rubbing a placating hand up and down my back, stroking my hair, but I was numb. Nothing felt right. What a bitter irony then, what Mulder said next. "Shhh, Day... Everything's going to be all right." His murmurings were doing nothing to calm me. I cried harder, surely drenching his shirt. Finally, Mulder titled my head up to face him. "Tell me what's going on, Day." My voice shook badly, but somehow I managed to choke out the words. "He's gone. Tristan died tonight." My weak declaration over, I buried my head into his shoulder once again. I felt Mulder's attempt to lead me over the couch, and on wobbly legs, did my best to follow him. We walked by a chair that seemed somehow out of place to me, and I knocked something off from the back of it. Pulling away a little to see what it was, I gasped when I took in the scene I'd neglected to see earlier. A table, covered in a white linen table cloth. Two wine glasses, set beside two plates, each just below a partially melted but now-unlit candle. Adorning the center of the table was a bouquet of roses. I felt like slapping myself at that moment. I'd forgotten. This apparently had been of much importance to Mulder, and I hadn't even remembered to call him. It was Mulder bending over to retrieve something off of the floor that finally freed me from my thoughts. I watched him pick up a suit jacket, and heard the thud as an object fell out of one of the pockets and hit the floor. A small black jewelry box. Automatically, I stooped to get it. Unsure of the contents, I turned it over in my quivering hands. Mulder's voice took on a note of desperate panic. "Dana, don't open--" Too late. I already had. Inside, nestled amongst a sea of black velvet, was a diamond ring. Oh lord. It was the ring I'd pointed out to him weeks before, inside that jewelry shop. It was an engagement ring. I felt my legs start to give way, and subconsciously braced myself for the impact of the hard floor. It didn't come, however, for Mulder was there in a flash to catch me. I'm not sure if I blacked out at all. I knew I was being carried to the couch; could feel myself curing into a little ball. I'm not sure how much time elapsed between then and when I finally spoke. I looked into Mulder's eyes, a frightened, nervous expression present there. He didn't know what to say or do, and seemed unsure if he should continue to comfort me, or if he should let me have some space. Most of all, I knew he was worried about my reaction to the contents of that tiny black box. He was going to propose to me tonight, before events beyond either of our control had altered the course of the evening. How I was I supposed to react to all this, now? I drew in an unsteady breath, trying to shake off the secluding haze which insisted on lingering. "Mulder..." I began. THE END November 22, 1997. Okay, so the ending is cruel... but then I wrote it last spring when I had a temperature of 102, and really should have been working on an independent study. Incidentally, the 'relaxation' technique of which the beginnings of were described, is a real thing used in drama classes - at least *my* drama classes, and as I'm in OAC drama (grade 13 for all non-Ontarians :)), I've found its use very effective for the past several years. There's room for a Rekindling IV now... if you want a conclusion to all this, if you've even READ this... I adore feedback! Reach this writer at rfarwell@foxnet.net.