From: joemimi@prodigy.net
"Death Watch"
by Marie Endres joemimi@prodigy.net
Classification: MS Angst; Post-Ep
Rating: PG, I think.
Spoilers: SUZ
Summary: During SUZ; Scully watches the night with Mulder.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine. They belong to Chris
Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No infringement is
intended.
Thank you to Georgia- your encouragement continues to inspire me!
"Death Watch"
I have watched for death. Sitting silently by the bedsides of family
members, acquaintances with whom I shared a bond, I have waited and
quietly prayed for death to come. Not in order to take the individual
from my life, but to somehow restore peace and dignity to the ragged
soul which was yearning to break free. This, tonight, is not a death
watch. Instead, I sit and watch what death has done. Once again, death
has brought us more questions than answers, more havoc than peace
and I am weary. Now, however, I must forget my own burden and hold
up the one who so often picked up the pieces for me. I fear I am not up
to the task. Yet I must. I must not give him the pat answers, or a
theological treatise on life and death. I owe Mulder more than that.
"Scully, I need a tissue."
His mundane request breaks the stillness which had settled on us.
Knowing he would not, could not attend the need, I began to extricate
myself from our "embrace." As I slowly stood up from my kneeling
position in front of him, I felt all of my 36 years. " War wounds" which
I thought had longed healed ached anew now as my arms suddenly felt
way too empty without him there. I almost feared leaving him to walk
the short distance to the bathroom. Get a hold of yourself, Dana, I
silently willed myself. The last thing he needs is you falling apart, too.
Putting one foot in front of the other, I realized how careful I was
being, lest I make any sound as I walked through his apartment. This
was time a time for silence.
Returning with his request, I extended the tissues to him. When he did
not immediately take them, I knelt down once more beside him.
"Mulder," I offered.
"Thank you," he sniffled.
"Would you like a glass of water?" I ask.
When he does not respond, I take it for a yes, and proceed to his sparse
kitchen. Finding a single glass in the drainboard, I fill it. As I turn to
bring it to him. I am startled by his presence.
"Jesus, Mulder, you scared me," I say quietly as I try to steady the glass
and its contents.
Taking it from me and raising it to his lips, I notice how slowly he is
moving. I stand stock still in the silent kitchen as I watch him turn and
leave the room. Following him to the living room, I see him sit down
on the couch.
He begins to speak in short, measured tones, all the while keeping his
gaze from mine.
"If I inherited my taste for sunflower seeds from my father, I get, I got
my emotions from my mother. I can remember while I was growing up
talking with the other kids in the neighborhood about our parents-
whose were strict, whose weren't. A lot of kids were afraid of their
parents, afraid of their Dad's belt. We weren't, though. Maybe our
parents never hugged us, but at least they never hit us, either. Except
for one time."
He took a jagged breath inward as he prepared to dig deeper for this
long-buried thought. I knew he could not move forward without some
sort of approval, some gesture that it was ok to shed a little light on a
very hidden family. I sat down next to him and placed my hand ever so
lightly between his shoulder blades. He continued.
"We lived in a decent neighborhood, but both Samantha and I knew
that we were only supposed to play where my mother could see us, no
going around the block for the Mulder kids. One afternoon, though, I
guess I was feeling a bit cocky, being eight years old and all, and I
decided to go with a group of friends one street over to another kid's
house. The time went by as I was enjoying my new freedom when
another kid from my block showed up to tell me my mother wanted me
to come home because we were going out to the supermarket.
Knowing my highly scheduled mother as I did, I knew we never went
food shopping past nine in the morning. I was caught, and I knew I had
better go home and face the music.
It had never taken me longer to walk half a block, and seeing my
mother waiting on the porch made me wish I had taken the scenic
route. She didn't say a word to me as she roughly ushered me into the
house. She still wasn't saying anything when her hand first connected
with my bottom. I kind of lost count after the first five hits, but at some
point she began to shout out snatches of phrases- 'I didn't know' smack
'Where you were' smack 'Anyone could hurt you' smack 'I couldn't
go on' smack. And so she continued until I thought for sure, this is it.
She's never hit me but now she's going to kill me. I turned to look at
her and my suspicions were confirmed- she was crying the whole time.
I had never seen my mother cry. It made my own tears stop dead in
their tracks. She turned away from me then, and walked into my
parents' bedroom and closed the door. It was one of the few times I
realized that my mother cared about me. It took something to inspire
fear in her to force her to show me how she felt. I guess I'm cut of the
same cloth."
As his tears began to fall quietly again,I moved my hand to the top of
his shoulder and held onto him tightly. I too, began to weep. I wept for
the man beside me, a little boy who never really knew a mother's love
and now, never would. I cried with him for all we've lost and all we'll
never know. I cried for us.
The hours dragged by as darkness was our companion. At times he
would get up and move aimlessly around the room, at other times he
would just sit and stare at some point on the wall across from us. I
tried to find words to speak, but I couldn't. Everything I thought to say
sounded trite, less than worthy of his pain. And so I sat in silence.
As morning dawned, I sent him into the bathroom to wash his face.
There was a knock at the door. As I rose to answer it, I already knew
whom I would find there. When I opened it, and saw Skinner, I also
knew why he was there and I would be damned if I was going to let
him plunge Mulder into more pain. I let Skinner know it no uncertain
terms how difficult the night had been, and I was beginning to tell him
that it was not the time for more work on this case, when I sensed
Mulder's presence behind me. By choosing just the right words,
Skinner's appeal was like a siren's call to Mulder.
"This case has heated up. I already booked us two flights."
As Mulder silently turned to go and get ready, I realized I was just not
ready to let this unfeeling world once again sink its talons into him. The
only way I could protect him now was to simply be, be with him as I
had all night, as I had from the beginning. My words declared my
place:
"Well then you better book three."
And so I will watch; I will be ready now for whatever death or life
throws at us. Bring on all the questions without answers, all the dead
ends and all of the labyrinths of truth and lies. I have the best vantage
point now for me and for Mulder, for I am truly right where I am
supposed to be and where I will always be.....beside him.
Feedback: Most appreciated!! I promise to reply with kind words and
tissues. joemimi@prodigy.net
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