From: Spooky2u2 Date: 06 Feb 2003 14:51:14 GMT Subject: New: Idle Hands (1/1) Source: atxc Title: Idle Hands Author: Spooky2u2 Category: Angst,some MSR, mid-ep One Breath Author's notes: This is a look at the episode with Mulder's thoughts which was also inspired by the image of Mulder in his apartment with his hands held out at the end of said episode. There's some new stuff in there. too Disclaimer: M&S, the original story, and most of the dialogue is not mine. It belongs to 1013 and Fox ********** Young Fox stumbled to the box on the shelf he knew held his father's gun. It was heavy in his hands as he struggled to grip and aim it. "Fox!" His sister Samantha's screams cut through him like a sharp blade. The light was so bright. What if he hit her by mistake? What if he killed someone...?No. They were taking her. He had to fire. But he couldn't. He thought for a moment that the same mysterious force that had lifted his sister and was moving her away from him was also keeping him from doing what his mind wailed he *must* do. Fire. His heart pounded as the gun shook. And then she was gone. The gun slipped from his numb fingers as the young boy folded to the floor in shock. His body trembled as he sat dazedly and raised his shaking hands, inspecting them as though they held some great mystery. In them, he saw the broken fragments of what might have been. If he had only fired when he had the chance. ******************************* Fox Mulder stood outside an apartment door going over what would come next now that he was here. As a boy They had taken his sister from him. Now, as a man, They had taken his partner and retribution laid just beyond that flimsy wood. He would make them sorry they ever touched her. Scully. Despite his determination to keep her and her no nonsense brashness at a distance, she had somehow eased her way inside him. During her absence, he could almost hear her voice of hard science during the few cases he chose to work, always countering his other-worldly theories as she did so well. He needed her to balance him it seemed, more than he had ever imagined. That would certainly explain the loss of steady footing on his life since her disappearance. He could hear her practical voice so clearly in his mind: 'Exactly what evidence supports this wild supposition, Mulder?' 'That's an interesting theory but the scientific explanation is far more plausible and most likely here.' His heart heard the voice of his friend: 'Come on Mulder, where's the take action, authority be damned, all or nothing bad ass that I've come to know? I would never give up on you. You're better than this. *Pick yourself up, G-man.* Do you hear me? I'm going to need you at your best. We'll have a lot of answers to look for. I believe in you. Don't you disappoint me.' It was this that he held to most in the days of their separation when he lost himself in the darkness that threatened to eat him alive. It was a small comfort. He felt in some way that she was still with him then. He would be ok as long as he held to those thoughts. But now... She laid dying in a hospital and all those hopes were slowly circling down the drain as she slipped away and the demons of years gone by came out to dance sinuously about the remains of his spirit, whispering taunting words of vengeance and bitter hate -- 'You know what they did. You know he's responsible. Now what are you going to do about it? What you did before, cower in terror? What are you waiting for? You know what you have to do. Fox...' Mulder straightened in defiance as he drew his weapon. He was no longer a frightened boy on the floor of his parents living room. He was a godamm FBI agent. With that, he slipped inside and faced the devil himself: The Cancer Man. "Sit down!" Mulder shouted, aiming his gun as the serpent began to rise from his seat. "How'd you find me?" "Shut up! Tonight, I ask the questions! You're going to answer me, you son of a bitch!" 'Vile, putrid excuse for human life. Dying infinite painful deaths is too good for you, wretched little man. What a pity you only have one to lose. Very shortly.' Those words were clear in Mulder's eyes as he steadied his aim and flexed his fingers around his gun. "Don't try and threaten me, Mulder. I've watched presidents die." Evil placed a cigarette between his lips with little regard for the man before him. Mulder's not a killer he thought. No. He doesn't have the heart...but a near blow to the face as the cigarette fell to the floor and the balance of power was shifted. Perhaps he had the heart after all-- or lack of one. Scully's death may end more than just her life. It just may put an end to the Fox Mulder he once knew. "Why her? Why her and not me?" Mulder shouted. Her voice came to him, working to balance him once again as hate and pain threatened topple him. 'Mulder, don't.' "I like you. I like her too. That's why she was returned to you." Evil was awfully haughty, eh? A bullet would fix that. 'This isn't you. Don't let him do this to you. Stop this before it's too late. ' "You should be the one to die," Mulder spit at the worthless form in front of him. 'You do this, and my death will mean the end of the man I once knew and respected. The only man I trusted. Don't put that burden on me, Mulder, please.' With this, he swayed in his purpose. Evil mistook it for weakness and became complacent then."Why? Look at me. No wife, no family, some power. I'm in the game because I believe what I'm doing is right." Such arrogance, but then Evil often was. "Right? Who are you to decide what's right?" "Who are you? If people were to know the things I know, it would all fall apart. I told Skinner you shot the man in the hospital but I didn't really believe it. And here you are with a gun to my head. I have more respect for you, Mulder. You're becoming a player. You can kill me now, but you'll never know the truth." The truth was, Mulder wouldn't allow himself to become this man. Evil would have to try and claim him another day. He lowered the gun. " ...And that's why I'll win. Don't worry. This'll be our secret. We wouldn't want others to start rumors." ************* Have to do something. Have to punish. Have to stop the pain. Have to stop *Them.* And then...a gift. 'I can't tell you why she was taken. It's too close to me. I'm giving you the men who took her.' He hadn't punished Cancer Man. He couldn't pull the trigger. As much as some part hated himself for it, part of him also knew that it was because of Scully that he couldn't have done it. . But this was different. X had made sure of that. The men who were coming tonight would give him no choice. He would be forced to fire. His conscience would be clear and Scully would be avenged. All he had to do was wait. His hands gripped tensely around his weapon-- readying himself in the darkness; welcoming the sweet taste of revenge But that atonement never came. Or rather, he left. *************** The silence in the room was nearly too much as Mulder took his seat next to the sterile hospital bed contemplating his choice to leave his apartment and come here. He had been angry with Melissa when she showed up at his door. They were coming. She would ruin everything. But after a good deal of pacing and agonizing, he had realized Scully's sister was right. Scully had always stayed at his side and had never wavered in that position--not even through their separation and reassignment. He was sure that was the very reason she laid in that bed hanging to life by a single, fragile thread. She had not reigned him in or brought him down as she was expected to. She had been his ally, more than just his friend. And she was paying for it. He owed it to her and to himself to be with her now. But even as he sat there believing he was saying his good-byes, something in him refused the notion. He slipped her hand in his own and marveled at the sight of them wrapped in one another --hers so small, cold and lifeless. His large, warm and strong. He found himself willing his own life force to seep through and into her. "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." As he watched her, an old memory sat heavily on his shoulders. Scully's screams sounded freshly in his mind, leaving a torrential shame in their wake which soaked through to the bone, sending a shiver through his body. << 'Mulder! Mulder, I need your help! Mulder!'>> His teeth worried at his lower lip as he searched for the right words. "I'm...I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me the most. I...I tried. God, I tried." His lament was a quiet pain twined with the guilt of things past. "It was my fault. This is all my fault. But... I'm here now, if you need me to help you find your way." His voice softened with those last words. "Your beliefs teach of miracles granted by simple faith." He gave an indignant snort at that. "Faith can move mountains eh, Scully?" His hand gripped hers tighter. "Faith didn't bring my sister home, but it did bring me here to you... so what now?" He sat quietly a moment, pondering his own question. " You always did love a challenge," he told her with a weak smile. "Well, Dana Katherine Scully, here's one for you. Prove to me that my faith in you can bring you back to me." Mulder wasn't sure what he had expected but he knew what he had gotten-- nothing. "Come on, Scully." He took her hand and laced it in both of his as if to pass on his own strength, and remained that way through the night, never letting go, as though he alone held her to this earth. His head rolled to one side as hands jostled him a wake, growing more insistent with each push . He brought his weary eyes up to meet the face of a worn Maggie Scully and nearly blushed at what she undoubtedly saw. His hand was still curled rather tightly around Scully's on the bed. "Fox, dear, you've done all you can. Go home and get some rest. We'll call you if there's any change." He could tell by the sound of her voice that her words were more mechanical in nature than out of any real concern for him. They were the words she was *supposed* to say. He guessed that despite the many calls to keep her informed of her daughter's case, Maggie Scully didn't have any more of a clue as to what to say to her daughter's eccentric partner than the next person. To everyone else but Scully, he was still the man who believed in little green men. He was an intruder here. He would respect her wishes. Reluctantly, he placed Scully's hand back at her side and shuffled past Mrs. Scully, not able to meet her gaze as he left. "You have my number." ******** Upon arriving home, Mulder opened his door to find what he had expected in the dark shadows of his dimly sun-lit apartment. Everything had been destroyed. Like his own life, it was destroyed beyond anything he could recognize. And in this final act, They who had taken so much from him continued to take more-- his hope, his will to fight. Indeed. They were the ultimate power. They controlled all things. He couldn't stop them. He would never stop them. His back came to rest against a doorway as he staggered under the heavy burden he could no longer bear. It crushed him still as he sank to the floor. << "Fox!" They're going to take her--Shoot! Numb hands drop a loaded gun >> <> << "...here you are with a gun to my head. I have more respect for you, Mulder. You're becoming a player. You can kill me now, but you'll never know the truth ...and that's why I'll win."Shoot the bastard! Scully's dying. Put a bullet in his lying, murdering face. But he releases the trigger>> << "Come on, Scully." His grip wills her to live.>> <> He had no strength left as he gave in to his sobs, his hands resting in front of him as they did all those years ago. They were the hands of his father now, a reminder of his own sins and failures. His eyes roamed mindfully over each digit, then the expanse of his palms. How strong they seemed. How capable. Yet they were obviously neither. They had punished no one, saved no one. Cancer Man and the others lived and soon Scully would die. Those hands had failed. Again. In that moment his very being collapsed into a swirling agony of past and present as he laid on the cold hard wood floor, pulling himself into the position reminiscent of a beginning life. Curled tightly to himself, he wept for them all-- Scully, his sister, and himself. Eventually when no more tears would come, Mulder sat up, stretched out his legs and his hands rubbed tiredly over his face, wiping away wet tears. There was nothing to do now but wait for the proof of his futile actions. He waited for the call that said she had gone, and as if answering his thoughts, the phone rang. "I'm here." Two words: "She's awake." And he smiled. 'You always did love a challenge, Scully.' ****** He barely managed what Scully called his "Mulder face," the controlled front he presented the world when his emotions ran high. High? They were a spec beyond the moon. Amazing. Just minutes ago he was in a place so dark he feared he may never find the light again but as he entered the hospital room he saw it clearly, smiling up at him. He presented her with a silly present, a simple token. Some would call it odd and out of place but then so was he most of the time. Scully would understand it. And the gleam in her eye told him she did.. He took comfort in the sound of her voice as she tried to recall something from the months she spent away from him. It didn't matter to him if she ever did. She had done something so much more important-- she had come back to him. With that thought, he was reminded of one last but far more meaningful gift. His hand dug into his pockets and withdrew the object he had kept next to his heart for all these months without her-- her gold chain with the symbol of her faith hanging from it. It hung loosely through his fingers as he watched it twinkle in the morning light. "I was holding this for you." He held the fragile necklace out to her. Her hand brushed his as she gently took it, and he understood. This is what hands do. The End