Sandcastles for Pele, part 4, post-IWTB, MSR
Title: Sandcastles for Pele
Author: JL (formerly JaimeLyn)
Rating: PG-13
Category: post IWTB, MSR
Disclaimer: Apparently, I'm allowed to play with them but I can't keep them. Damn it. (Do action figures count?) Anyway. Please don't sue.
Summary: As they play a waiting game, Mulder and Scully call upon the past and embark on their own little adventure.
Author's note: I really wanted to be sure to post parts 3 and 4 on the same day (I was torn over whether to combine them into one part) so here's part 4, which is a little meatier than part 3 . Once again, I should emphasize that I've taken slight liberties with the geography and landscape of Kahoolawe, Hawaii. No disrespect intended. Thanks again to those of you who have given feedback and comments - I am so grateful.
"Aloha mai no, aloha aku;
o ka huhu ka mea e ola `ole ai."
- When love is given, love should be returned;
anger is the thing that gives no life.
- ancient Hawaiian proverb
--
North Kahoolawe, HI
1:52am
Rain pushed past the car in ribbons, and still the car shimmied slowly on.
Mulder squinted, gripped the steering wheel, and watched passing side-streets for the turn-off to Kings Hwy, unsure of what he'd say to her when they got there. He supposed this idea of the two of them at the foot of a volcano, in the middle of a thunderstorm, the pouring rain soaking through her shirt as his arms wound tight around her, had probably seemed much more romantic in his head.
Streams of water spilled as if from a pitcher down the windshield, the wipers huffing and puffing their way back and forth, not making a dent. Thunder came quick, popping viciously like a cork, and was followed by the fire-hot sizzle of lightning. Rain fell sideways and in loops and swirls. The streetlights had burnt out, the road ahead of them a black, watery hole. Mulder flicked on the high-beams; twin cones of light trailed off into the pitch black, and in his mind, Mulder could see the pulse of Scully's flashlight coming towards him, its beam bobbing frantically along hard stone walls. Occasionally, when Scully worked very late at night, and he was alone in their bed, he could still hear her frightened voice calling for him, and his own flashlight desperately seeking hers, the beams crossing in midair, the darkness all around them.
"Mulder, we need to talk."
Mulder startled slightly, but kept his eyes on the road. "About what?"
Scully shot him a hard, knowing glance.
Mulder bristled. "No," he said. In his mind's eye, he saw her as if through a plexi-glass divide; there she lay, silent, pale as ash, tangled in tubes like an insect at the center of a web, monitors reducing her life to a series of staccato beeps. Mulder jerked in his seat to erase the image, still so raw after ten long years. "I'm not doing this with you," he said, keeping a close eye on the road. "Not now. Right now, I'm driving you out to the beach so you can feed a ham sandwich to a volcano."
Scully's brows furrowed.
Mulder frowned to himself.
"Mulder," she said.
"That came out a little more preposterous than I intended."
"Mulder."
"I actually intended to say some sweeping, poetic thing." He shrugged.
"Mulder!"
"What?" Mulder shot her an angry, sidelong glance before turning back at the road. Inside the whirls of rain, he saw Scully with her head tilted up at a stormy afternoon sky, her eyes closed, a small smile creasing her lips, her hair wild and curling in the humidity. She'd think he was asleep on the couch and would drape him with a blanket, kiss him gently, and wander out onto the porch, alone, to wait for the storm - to breathe it in, or to perhaps commune with God. In secret, Mulder would get up and wait for her at the window, still with wonder at the challenging mystery of her mind, as she turned her face to the sky. To him, nothing was more beautiful than this image.
"What do you want from me, Scully?" He saw her again, this time pale and weak and distant, scribbling furiously in a diary filled with poetic haikus of her own illness, her own death. Trying to merge these two unlike Scullys in his head made him dizzy, and he bit out, "Should I watch you disconnect? From the world? From me? Should I listen to you rattle off some flowery list of things you want to put in order before you die?"
Scully reeled as if he'd hit her, and Mulder winced. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I just...I can't. I was never built that way." He sighed. "I love you far too much to watch you give up."
Scully sucked her lower lip beneath her teeth. He could see the battle in her eyes. With a shaky voice, she managed, "That's not fair, Mulder."
"What is, then?"
For a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of a discontent sky.
Scully reached for his hand on the gearshaft. She wove her fingers through his. "The darkness I can handle," she said, "You helped me see that. But I need you with me, now."
Mulder turned to her with feverish eyes and gripped her hand far too tightly. "No," he said passionately. "Not like that."
Another wave of uncomfortable silence crashed over them, and Scully turned away. The rain pounded its angry fists against the car.
Softly, she touched the pad of her thumb to his, asked, "Is this how you felt back then, too?"
Mulder exhaled sharply. "You mean was I in love with you then?"
Scully said nothing. She withdrew her hand.
Mulder took deep, calming breaths, and trained his eyes on the road, on the twin stripes of light pointed straight at nowhere. How many times had he seen her bent in concentration over a mutilated corpse, poking and slicing and then lecturing up at him as if inviting him to some macabre dance? How many times had he envisioned the nightmarish possibility of that relationship reversed? How many evenings had he stood alone at his window, imagining the space between their apartments as something vast and impenetrable, and wished he could see her, just to know what she was doing, just to make sure she was okay, just in case? How many times?
"You know that answer," said Mulder. "And we're not doing this right now."
Scully massaged her temples, leaned against the passenger's window. "Burying ourselves in a fantasy won't make this any less real, Mulder."
"So we should break out your living will even though the test results aren't in yet?" Mulder gripped the steering wheel so tightly he began to sweat. Scully reached over and touched his forearm.
"That's not what I mean and you know it." She turned back to the windshield, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm afraid, Mulder." Her voice was small, so small. "I'm so afraid."
That caught him off guard, and he said nothing.
"I need to talk to you about this, so badly. But you -- " She shook her head, clenched a fist in her lap, "Here you are, still hiding behind a mystery, some quest, some unexplained thing. But listening to me, really listening to me -- that's out of the question. You know, you're not the only one who's frightened, Mulder. You're not the only one in this car."
Mulder shot her a glare. Behind the frightened blue of her eyes, he saw a woman who had marched headfirst into the rain and asked him to start the engine.
He turned back to the road, answered, "I've never been the only one in this car."
Scully's hand slid, defeated, down his forearm. "You know that's not what I'm getting at."
"Then tell me, Scully," he said, the tips of his fingers stinging as they dug into the steering wheel. "Tell me what you're getting at."
Scully's breathing changed, the edge of each exhale shuddering slightly - she was trying, desperately, not to cry.
Out loud she said, "How can I?" And swallowed and breathed and swallowed and breathed. "How can I tell you that you can't build me a sandcastle cure, Mulder? How can I ask you not to believe when I know you need to so badly? How do I tell you that I don't want to spend the rest of my days fighting something I can't possibly fight?" She paused. "Or worrying that you'll turn me into another quest, that you'll get yourself killed trying to avenge the injustice"
Mulder had a harsh, quick flash to a time when Scully had gone missing; he had felt like a man left behind, the remaining half of a love unrequited. He'd gone to purchase a headstone for her, filled out all the forms, entered her name in the tiny blank boxes. Name of deceased: D-a-n-a S-c-u-l-l-y. No. Not again. Not ever again.
Mulder let out a dark chuckle. "What a ringing endorsement - both for me, and for a positive outcome."
"Mulder -- "
Mulder banged his hand angrily against the steering wheel. "Tell me again why you're in this car with me, Scully."
Scully's tears spilled over.
Mulder deflated. He reached for her hand. "Scully, look --"
But Scully's eyes went wide and suddenly she leapt forward, gesturing frantically out the window. "Oh, my God!"
"Scully, what - "
"Jesus, look out!" She grabbed his shoulder and pointed, and his brain flashed roughly through images: the uneven road, the storm, the windshield wipers, the blood red blinking clock: 2:01, the darkness waiting for them, lurking just outside. Scully shook him and pressed her palm to the windshield, her expression filled with horror. "There's a boy! A boy, there's a boy in the road --"
"What?" Desperately, Mulder searched the road for any sign of a boy. Rain slammed against the windshield, bringing a dangerous texture to the howling darkness, and Scully, wild with panic, reached across him to roughly grab the wheel and yank it towards her.
Everything slammed sideways.
"Scully! What the hell are you - "
The radio turned on suddenly and spiraled swiftly between stations, garbling music and static that screamed madly, and as Mulder reached for Scully and the car began to spin out of control, a bright white light blinded them, and then everything stopped.
--
End part 4
Author: JL (formerly JaimeLyn)
Rating: PG-13
Category: post IWTB, MSR
Disclaimer: Apparently, I'm allowed to play with them but I can't keep them. Damn it. (Do action figures count?) Anyway. Please don't sue.
Summary: As they play a waiting game, Mulder and Scully call upon the past and embark on their own little adventure.
Author's note: I really wanted to be sure to post parts 3 and 4 on the same day (I was torn over whether to combine them into one part) so here's part 4, which is a little meatier than part 3 . Once again, I should emphasize that I've taken slight liberties with the geography and landscape of Kahoolawe, Hawaii. No disrespect intended. Thanks again to those of you who have given feedback and comments - I am so grateful.
"Aloha mai no, aloha aku;
o ka huhu ka mea e ola `ole ai."
- When love is given, love should be returned;
anger is the thing that gives no life.
- ancient Hawaiian proverb
--
North Kahoolawe, HI
1:52am
Rain pushed past the car in ribbons, and still the car shimmied slowly on.
Mulder squinted, gripped the steering wheel, and watched passing side-streets for the turn-off to Kings Hwy, unsure of what he'd say to her when they got there. He supposed this idea of the two of them at the foot of a volcano, in the middle of a thunderstorm, the pouring rain soaking through her shirt as his arms wound tight around her, had probably seemed much more romantic in his head.
Streams of water spilled as if from a pitcher down the windshield, the wipers huffing and puffing their way back and forth, not making a dent. Thunder came quick, popping viciously like a cork, and was followed by the fire-hot sizzle of lightning. Rain fell sideways and in loops and swirls. The streetlights had burnt out, the road ahead of them a black, watery hole. Mulder flicked on the high-beams; twin cones of light trailed off into the pitch black, and in his mind, Mulder could see the pulse of Scully's flashlight coming towards him, its beam bobbing frantically along hard stone walls. Occasionally, when Scully worked very late at night, and he was alone in their bed, he could still hear her frightened voice calling for him, and his own flashlight desperately seeking hers, the beams crossing in midair, the darkness all around them.
"Mulder, we need to talk."
Mulder startled slightly, but kept his eyes on the road. "About what?"
Scully shot him a hard, knowing glance.
Mulder bristled. "No," he said. In his mind's eye, he saw her as if through a plexi-glass divide; there she lay, silent, pale as ash, tangled in tubes like an insect at the center of a web, monitors reducing her life to a series of staccato beeps. Mulder jerked in his seat to erase the image, still so raw after ten long years. "I'm not doing this with you," he said, keeping a close eye on the road. "Not now. Right now, I'm driving you out to the beach so you can feed a ham sandwich to a volcano."
Scully's brows furrowed.
Mulder frowned to himself.
"Mulder," she said.
"That came out a little more preposterous than I intended."
"Mulder."
"I actually intended to say some sweeping, poetic thing." He shrugged.
"Mulder!"
"What?" Mulder shot her an angry, sidelong glance before turning back at the road. Inside the whirls of rain, he saw Scully with her head tilted up at a stormy afternoon sky, her eyes closed, a small smile creasing her lips, her hair wild and curling in the humidity. She'd think he was asleep on the couch and would drape him with a blanket, kiss him gently, and wander out onto the porch, alone, to wait for the storm - to breathe it in, or to perhaps commune with God. In secret, Mulder would get up and wait for her at the window, still with wonder at the challenging mystery of her mind, as she turned her face to the sky. To him, nothing was more beautiful than this image.
"What do you want from me, Scully?" He saw her again, this time pale and weak and distant, scribbling furiously in a diary filled with poetic haikus of her own illness, her own death. Trying to merge these two unlike Scullys in his head made him dizzy, and he bit out, "Should I watch you disconnect? From the world? From me? Should I listen to you rattle off some flowery list of things you want to put in order before you die?"
Scully reeled as if he'd hit her, and Mulder winced. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I just...I can't. I was never built that way." He sighed. "I love you far too much to watch you give up."
Scully sucked her lower lip beneath her teeth. He could see the battle in her eyes. With a shaky voice, she managed, "That's not fair, Mulder."
"What is, then?"
For a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of a discontent sky.
Scully reached for his hand on the gearshaft. She wove her fingers through his. "The darkness I can handle," she said, "You helped me see that. But I need you with me, now."
Mulder turned to her with feverish eyes and gripped her hand far too tightly. "No," he said passionately. "Not like that."
Another wave of uncomfortable silence crashed over them, and Scully turned away. The rain pounded its angry fists against the car.
Softly, she touched the pad of her thumb to his, asked, "Is this how you felt back then, too?"
Mulder exhaled sharply. "You mean was I in love with you then?"
Scully said nothing. She withdrew her hand.
Mulder took deep, calming breaths, and trained his eyes on the road, on the twin stripes of light pointed straight at nowhere. How many times had he seen her bent in concentration over a mutilated corpse, poking and slicing and then lecturing up at him as if inviting him to some macabre dance? How many times had he envisioned the nightmarish possibility of that relationship reversed? How many evenings had he stood alone at his window, imagining the space between their apartments as something vast and impenetrable, and wished he could see her, just to know what she was doing, just to make sure she was okay, just in case? How many times?
"You know that answer," said Mulder. "And we're not doing this right now."
Scully massaged her temples, leaned against the passenger's window. "Burying ourselves in a fantasy won't make this any less real, Mulder."
"So we should break out your living will even though the test results aren't in yet?" Mulder gripped the steering wheel so tightly he began to sweat. Scully reached over and touched his forearm.
"That's not what I mean and you know it." She turned back to the windshield, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm afraid, Mulder." Her voice was small, so small. "I'm so afraid."
That caught him off guard, and he said nothing.
"I need to talk to you about this, so badly. But you -- " She shook her head, clenched a fist in her lap, "Here you are, still hiding behind a mystery, some quest, some unexplained thing. But listening to me, really listening to me -- that's out of the question. You know, you're not the only one who's frightened, Mulder. You're not the only one in this car."
Mulder shot her a glare. Behind the frightened blue of her eyes, he saw a woman who had marched headfirst into the rain and asked him to start the engine.
He turned back to the road, answered, "I've never been the only one in this car."
Scully's hand slid, defeated, down his forearm. "You know that's not what I'm getting at."
"Then tell me, Scully," he said, the tips of his fingers stinging as they dug into the steering wheel. "Tell me what you're getting at."
Scully's breathing changed, the edge of each exhale shuddering slightly - she was trying, desperately, not to cry.
Out loud she said, "How can I?" And swallowed and breathed and swallowed and breathed. "How can I tell you that you can't build me a sandcastle cure, Mulder? How can I ask you not to believe when I know you need to so badly? How do I tell you that I don't want to spend the rest of my days fighting something I can't possibly fight?" She paused. "Or worrying that you'll turn me into another quest, that you'll get yourself killed trying to avenge the injustice"
Mulder had a harsh, quick flash to a time when Scully had gone missing; he had felt like a man left behind, the remaining half of a love unrequited. He'd gone to purchase a headstone for her, filled out all the forms, entered her name in the tiny blank boxes. Name of deceased: D-a-n-a S-c-u-l-l-y. No. Not again. Not ever again.
Mulder let out a dark chuckle. "What a ringing endorsement - both for me, and for a positive outcome."
"Mulder -- "
Mulder banged his hand angrily against the steering wheel. "Tell me again why you're in this car with me, Scully."
Scully's tears spilled over.
Mulder deflated. He reached for her hand. "Scully, look --"
But Scully's eyes went wide and suddenly she leapt forward, gesturing frantically out the window. "Oh, my God!"
"Scully, what - "
"Jesus, look out!" She grabbed his shoulder and pointed, and his brain flashed roughly through images: the uneven road, the storm, the windshield wipers, the blood red blinking clock: 2:01, the darkness waiting for them, lurking just outside. Scully shook him and pressed her palm to the windshield, her expression filled with horror. "There's a boy! A boy, there's a boy in the road --"
"What?" Desperately, Mulder searched the road for any sign of a boy. Rain slammed against the windshield, bringing a dangerous texture to the howling darkness, and Scully, wild with panic, reached across him to roughly grab the wheel and yank it towards her.
Everything slammed sideways.
"Scully! What the hell are you - "
The radio turned on suddenly and spiraled swiftly between stations, garbling music and static that screamed madly, and as Mulder reached for Scully and the car began to spin out of control, a bright white light blinded them, and then everything stopped.
--
End part 4