what's the point in all this screaming? | no one's listening anyway
Characters: Fox Mulder, Camel
Rating: Uh, maybe PG-13 for language
Time Period: Modern
Location: Cemetery
Relative Date: Night of the [dance] directly following this
Status: Closed. Completed! <3
Mulder really couldn't run anymore.
It didn't help that he was searching blindly, and only on a whim at that. It finally struck him, as his lungs started wildly revolting against him, a stitch screaming in his side, that this could be - and probably was - completely pointless. He could be running around looking for a dead woman who was simply that... dead.
Somewhere, she was watching, and urging him to just let it go.
He opened his eyes after he'd caught his breath, still leaning over, and was greeted by the site of a gravestone, large and faded and cold. It didn't help make it easier to breathe.
Mulder really didn't want to cry again, swept a hand down his face, and looked away. Then forced himself to look back. It wasn't her grave. She might not ever get one. But it didn't matter.
"Scully..." he managed to say. "If you can hear me... if you're really gone... " He took a breath, measured it out as he released it. Counted. "I'm sorry," he choked. "That I wasn't there. That I left you alone... God. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it. And now it's my fault that you're... And that I'm alone. Do you know that? You were the only thing I ever held on to, Scully. The only thing that made me part of everything. No one else ever believed me... believed in me, the way you did. I don't think anyone ever could. And ..." He looked away again, hands on his hips, trying to bite off the searing pain of it. "And I don't know how to be alone. Or to be without you. I don't trust anybody else. I invested everything I had in you, because you were worth it. And now..."
He couldn't do this anymore, was only going to drive himself crazy. Here he was, in some random cemetery in the night, while Scully's body was missing, and he was monologuing towards some one's headstone.
Spooky Mulder, indeed.
Rating: Uh, maybe PG-13 for language
Time Period: Modern
Location: Cemetery
Relative Date: Night of the [dance] directly following this
Status: Closed. Completed! <3
Mulder really couldn't run anymore.
It didn't help that he was searching blindly, and only on a whim at that. It finally struck him, as his lungs started wildly revolting against him, a stitch screaming in his side, that this could be - and probably was - completely pointless. He could be running around looking for a dead woman who was simply that... dead.
Somewhere, she was watching, and urging him to just let it go.
He opened his eyes after he'd caught his breath, still leaning over, and was greeted by the site of a gravestone, large and faded and cold. It didn't help make it easier to breathe.
Mulder really didn't want to cry again, swept a hand down his face, and looked away. Then forced himself to look back. It wasn't her grave. She might not ever get one. But it didn't matter.
"Scully..." he managed to say. "If you can hear me... if you're really gone... " He took a breath, measured it out as he released it. Counted. "I'm sorry," he choked. "That I wasn't there. That I left you alone... God. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it. And now it's my fault that you're... And that I'm alone. Do you know that? You were the only thing I ever held on to, Scully. The only thing that made me part of everything. No one else ever believed me... believed in me, the way you did. I don't think anyone ever could. And ..." He looked away again, hands on his hips, trying to bite off the searing pain of it. "And I don't know how to be alone. Or to be without you. I don't trust anybody else. I invested everything I had in you, because you were worth it. And now..."
He couldn't do this anymore, was only going to drive himself crazy. Here he was, in some random cemetery in the night, while Scully's body was missing, and he was monologuing towards some one's headstone.
Spooky Mulder, indeed.