From: FrankieH Date sent: Fri, 23 Jan 1998 13:40:14 EST The Rainbow Bridge by Frances Hayman Finished: September 28, 1997 E-Mail: FrankieH@aol.com Rating: PG (one little bad word) Classification: Vignette, Angst Summary: Scully's journal entries in the hours and days following Queequeg's death. She tries to work through her grief and guilt, with some surprising help from Mulder. Spoilers: Quagmire, Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose Disclaimers: Mulder, Scully, Queequeg, and the X-Files belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. "The Rainbow Bridge" was given to me by a friend. I have no idea who wrote it, and it is used here without anyone's permission. No copyright infringement intended. Distribution: Ok to post this, as long as my name stays with it. The Rainbow Bridge by Frances Hayman Scully's personal journal Heuvelman's Lake, Georgia Queequeg died tonight. Never did I dream that the little bundle of red fur could come to mean so much to me. He was only with me for a few months, but in that short time, he filled a space in my life that I never noticed was empty before. Before he came. Before Clyde Bruckman left him in my care. Perhaps he saw that empty place in me. Perhaps . . . Mulder doesn't understand. He said he was sorry, but I really don't think he understands. Not that Mulder doesn't understand loss, and pain, and grief. He's borne more in that department than most people can even imagine. The loss of his sister, his father, when I was taken, when he thought he found his sister, only to have her ripped away again . . . But right now, in this place, he's so damn preoccupied with this lake monster, Big Blue. What really happened to my little Queequeg? After he got away from me he went chasing after something in the woods. How could such a little dog pull the leash out of my hands? If only I had held on tighter. If only I had left him at home. But there was no one to leave him with, except a kennel. I hated the idea of him sitting in a cage for hours on end. But he'd be alive. If only I had taken him to a kennel. At least Mulder did help me look for him. I was so hoping that we would find him caught in some underbrush, or fallen in a hole. But we didn't find anything. Mulder's convinced that the lake monster got him. I don't know what to think. I can barely think at all. I feel numb. I know this feeling . . . its grief. Not exactly like when Dad or Missy died. Or when I thought Mulder was gone. Not exactly, but close. This little being relied on me for everything, and I let him down. It's my fault he's gone. And now Mulder wants to go chasing after Big Blue in a boat, in the dark, on an unfamiliar lake. It's a good thing I can drive a boat. Mulder would probably run it aground before he got ten feet from the dock. I just hope he doesn't get seasick, or should I say, lakesick. * * * * The next morning - This case is finally over. Thank God. After a harrowing experience in the woods, Mulder shot the "monster". And only a twisted ankle and some cuts and bruises this time. No hospital stay required. He was really disappointed that it was only a very large, literal "man-eating" alligator that was responsible for all the deaths. After the deputies and wildlife officials hauled the alligator away, he just stood there on the shore, looking out at the lake. I suppose it was one last attempt to find Big Blue. I'll admit there was something very big on the sonar of the boat we rented . . . and sank. I still can't believe we sat on that cold rock for hours when the shore was only a short walk away. I suppose I was, well, a bit hard on Mulder, calling him Ahab. But the similarities are truly striking. I'm surprised I never noticed them before. The Truth or a white whale . . . what's the difference? I can only hope that they don't share the same fate. No, they won't. They can't. I can't let that happen. * * * * Two days later - Mulder surprised me today. I was sifting through paperwork, when he laid an envelope on the desk. When I asked him what it was, he just shrugged and muttered something about not being very supportive when I was upset about Queequeg. He said he had found this piece, not really a poem, but he hoped I'd like it. Then he made some excuse and left. It was beautiful. I guess I under estimated him on this one. And I guess, considering what Mulder believes, or doesn't believe, it's sort of surprising that he would find this. But I know he did it for me, because of what I believe. Or hope. It's such a moving story, I wanted to record it here, in my journal. The Rainbow Bridge Just this side of heaven is a place called the Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to the Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water, and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and vigor, those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they each miss someone very special, someone who was left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent, his eager body begins to quiver. Suddenly, he breaks from the group, flying over the green grass, faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face, your hands again caress the beloved head and you look once more into those trusting eyes, so long gone from your life, but never absent from your heart. Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together. I guess maybe I'll have to share Queequeg with his original owner, Mrs. Lowe. I hope she was there to meet him at the Rainbow Bridge. The end. Author's notes: This little piece of Scully angst was inspired by the death of my long time buddy, a 14 year old cat named Tribble. It is to her that this is dedicated. I know she, and the rest of my departed furry companions are waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge. FrankieH@aol.com