From: "huneeb 99" Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2001 04:20:34 -0500 Subject: The Dying of The Light by huneeb99 Source: direct Title: The Dying of the Light Author: huneeb99 Rating: G Classification: VA Spoilers: Up through One Breath Keywords: Mulder angst Summary: What was Mulder thinking near the end of One Breath? Feedback: Will be eaten up with a spoon, but flames burn the room of my mouth. ievenmademyparentscallmemulder@hotmail.com Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine and I really wouldn't want the responsibility. I just like to take them out of their boxes to play with for a while. I'll put them back, though they may be a little tattered. Consider yourself disclaimed. Don't sue. Author's Notes: This is inspired by the Fuel song "Hemorrhage (In My Hands)", though it's absolutely not a songfic. Dedicated to Emily, 'cause I know she loves the crying!Mulder face... Looks an awful lot like the face that guy in Return to Me makes. Coincidence? You be the judge. :) Title taken from a Dylan Thomas poem. ********** "I feel, Scully, that you believe you're not ready to go. And you've always had the strength of your beliefs. I don't know if my being here will help bring you back. But I'm here." ********** I'm not sure how I got from the hospital to my apartment, but here I am, standing in the doorway. They certainly did a number on this place. And I wasn't here to stop them. And Scully remains the same. I should have been here. I should have let them kill me. I'm nothing without her. She's my better half in so many ways. She pulled me back from the edge of darkness. She's my light. Without her, I really do walk deeper into darkness. My legs give out under me and I slide down the doorway until I'm squatting on the floor. If I get any lower, I'll be in the fetal position. That's what I feel like doing. Just curling up and dying on this floor. I'm already dying anyway. My hands are tingling. I bring them up to look at them and am struck by their uselessness. My hands are nothing to anyone. They couldn't help Scully. They couldn't take the revenge that was theirs to have. They couldn't save Samantha. What good am I at all? I feel myself sob and a wave of shame hovers over me. What right do I have to cry? I did this to her, I've brought this on myself. Tears won't fix anything my hands couldn't. And my hands couldn't save anything. My legs give out completely and I'm sitting on the floor, still staring at my hands. Hot tears sting my cheeks. I can't control them either. Just one more failure to add to my list. I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but my face is salty with dried tears and my hands have fallen into my lap. I'm staring out the window, gazing into the morning sun through the blinds. I stand and move to the window, glancing down at my battered desk as I step on papers, photos and notes. The sun still rises. What right does the sun have to rise? The light is dying and still the sun circles on. What right do I have to see the sun? I couldn't save the light. I wander over to the couch and lower myself down. I'm starting to get antsy from inaction. My need to move is itching at the back of my head. The phone rings... ********** THE END Like it? Hate it? Think I should give it up all together? Send feedback to ievenmademyparentscallmemulder@hotmail.com. Please! Member, OBSSE. "How could I live is such darkness and not adore the light?" "Rage, rage against the dying of the light."