From: "Peter Toh" Date: Tue, 8 Feb 2000 16:54:17 +1100 Subject: A TRAGIC HERO FOR OUR TIMES by Justine Toh Source: direct TITLE: A TRAGIC HERO FOR OUR TIMES AUTHOR: Justine Toh EMAIL: ptoh@accsoft.com.au DISTRIBUTION: anywhere, but keep my name attached SPOILER WARNING: The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati, The X-Files Movie, Triangle RATING: G KEYWORDS: Scully POV CLASSIFICATION: Scully vignette, MSR, angst, Crossover =96 HAMLET by William Shakespeare DISCLAIMER: The X-Files belongs to Chris Carter. No infringement intended. SUMMARY: Scully reflects on Mulder's duality as a deliverer against imminent colonisation and an ordinary man while grappling with her unspoken love for him. AUTHOR'S NOTES: 1) This could be my own love affair with Mulder. 2) Science-fiction has always been wedded to religion. Think STAR WARS and THE MATRIX. - A TRAGIC HERO FOR OUR TIMES - "Madness in great ones must not unwatched go." - Claudius; HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK by William Shakespeare. I wonder if you can feel me looking at you. You're sitting there, chewing absently on your seed, feet propped up and crossed on the desk, tie loosened, perusing the file, oblivious to the rain of shell bits that fall randomly into your lap. A picture of a man. Man. Such a little, simple word. Can it accurately depict everything you are? Everything you stand for? Could it possibly ever be enough to delineate *you*? {Can the word 'God' do the same? Can the craft on the Ivory Coast really be what it appears to be, proof that everything we attribute to God is in reality the fruits of an alien race? Does that signify that great works of art, be they the complexities and subtleties of the human mind or the garden of Eden, the cosmos, the human genome, creation itself, can only be expressed in such plain, unvarnished terms?} Perhaps it would be better to just describe you as a 'Mulder'. For I anticipate that before this life is over you will have set a benchmark. 'Mulder' will carry the connotations of inspired intellect, truth seeker, saviour personality, dedicated partner, beloved friend, even obsessive, anti- social hermit, vehement paranoiac, ardent believer. Prepare the way for the champion of the new millennium. Lay down your palm fronds. I am ready to give my life for yours. Why? I'm sorry that I can't tell you, try as I might. Some things aren't meant to be said. I think this is, though. But I can't bring myself to tell you. Because what kind of offer could I make you? Would anything I say help alleviate the threat of the future? And I know that time is precious and that I am causing myself unnecessary grief by holding it all within. How many times have I felt the cool whisper of death on my neck? I feel I will not be so lucky next time. I just keep thinking of you strapped on that table, locked inside your beautiful mind. Why did they torture you so. I don't ask because I know the answer. Because you are the one. This fractured, beautiful soul of yours holds the key to salvation. You once told me that the truth was in me. How the tables have turned. Although I concede that there is a bit of that truth left in me, real, tangible evidence, sealed under the skin of my neck. This is just one of the myriad ties that bind us. But whether or not you like it, the complete truth is now in you. All that you were, all that you are, all that you could be has an undeniable stake in the future. The first Messiah was so holy, such a compassionate, wonderful human being, an other- worldly miracle sent by God, always ready to help the downtrodden while looking with a cynical eye at those who abused their power and prestige. I always felt trying to live up to that standard of perfection was an exercise in futility. But as I look at you now, so human it makes my heart quiver, I think you are the perfect messiah for our time. A walking contradiction perfect for the post-modern world. There are no more absolutes... Dislocated yet grounded, angst-ridden yet assured, flawed yet sublime. Sometimes full of faith, other times thoroughly sceptical. Perhaps reluctant to bear such a burden and yet so dedicated, passionate. I've heard it said that playing Hamlet is the actor's ultimate. Do you know you are a real live Hamlet? But I don't want you to be a tragic hero. For all of them are sacrificed to their quest. Somewhere along the way they damn themselves, or circumstances just fly wildly out of control. I feel like I am unconsciously placing you on a pedestal, broken and beautiful human that you are. I wonder what you would think of that. My mouth quirks briefly. For a moment, for one little moment I let myself imagine that you could return the feeling I have for you. It flashes its colours and flees. For what have I to offer you? *Unconditional love and support, constancy, everything that I can offer I surrender willingly to you. All for you.* The little moment lingers. It wants to be persuaded. I thought I caught a glimpse of your heart in your hallway. Is it too much to hope for? Possibly the light hit your eyes from such an angle to make them look liquid with longing. And some part of me feels you would have said anything to keep me from leaving you alone at that time. Don't misunderstand me, please. I want to believe. But not even a drugged-out, dreamy man could convince me. Not unless they'd plugged you with a truth serum, that is. I remain silent because I cannot bear the idea of becoming a distraction for you. Not when the horsemen of the Apocalypse are visible on the horizon. Another precious moment in your hallway sealed this decision for me. You need me and our steady partnership to fall back on. I will not complicate it. Your heroic quest shall not end in tragedy. I will not allow it. I will not mourn you. I will keep you grounded, help you along the way. You are not alone. I know you know this. But some things I don't think you know. I think you know I love you, love borne out of great partnership, loyalty, trust. Sacrifice, both mine and yours. I don't think you know, however, that I am *in* love with you. This is my secret. I share it with you without telling you. I wonder if you can feel me loving you with my gaze. If I could reach out across that divide I would. Grasp your hand, smile at you, hear your heartbeat, speak volumes with my eyes. I stand up and cross the room, willing to try. My hand falls on your shoulder. Warmth seeps up through your shirt. You look up, and I can see tiny shell bits stuck to your lips. Before I can control it I smile at this picture of a man, at once divine and mundane, holding the promise of the future in his palm as surely he does the remnants of his sunflower seeds. You smile back. "What?" "It's nothing, Mulder. Stop chewing on that bird seed and let's get something substantial to eat." Your hand falls on my back as we head out of our basement. It is enough. For now. - END - Thanks for reading! Feedback greatly appreciated: ptoh@accsoft.com.au