Title: Bleeding His Blood Author: L. Pisoni (Feedback accepted lovingly! :) Rating: Maybe PG or PG-13 for language and theme Classification: V,(Scully)A Keywords: Character death Summary: Bleeding his blood and fighting his fight... She hasn't given up yet. Author's notes: I got the inspiration for this story after I read a wonderful piece called "Drive, He Said" by Jennifer Stoy. As far as I know, there is no resemblance between the two, but if there is, I apologize greatly to her and to everyone! Thanks go to Rachel on this one. :) You go, girl. ;-) ~~ And he's laying here, in my arms, and I just don't understand. I can't understand. I won't. I don't want to understand this. This isn't how it was supposed to end. For him, the end was supposed to be accented by bright lights and alien voices calling to him. Well orchestrated, with expensive costumes and proper direction. He was supposed to find her before his end. He was supposed to be healed before his end. He was supposed to find the truth, and go out in a blaze of glory. I guess this single bullet is just another addition to the letdowns that he's given me over the years. An addition to the irony. I can't fault him for it, though. It was just him. Just Mulder. I can't fault him, even now. Even as he lays in my arms bleeding. Even as he's gasped his last breath, and I'm not crying. I think for a moment that perhaps I've forgotten how to cry. Have I become so hard that I've forgotten such a human trait? Have I grown so cold? Perhaps. I am numb. He is bleeding, but I cannot move. He is bleeding and dying and I cannot move. I'm gasping for breath in the heat of the night and I cannot move and I don't understand. I cannot understand. "Never forget," he told me. "Never forget what you've seen. Never give up." He said each word punctuated with pain and a gasp for air. Never give up. Such simple words for such a complex and difficult thing. Never give up. What was he talking about? I know, of course. The search for the truth. The quest to expose the bastards who are covering everything up. The pursuit of understanding. I want to understand. And yet I don't. There is so much I cannot comprehend. Never give up, he told me. Never give up. There was no, "I love you. I'm sorry I never told you before, but I love you." There were no I Love You's. No apologies. Never any apologies. And so what happens now? Days later. As I can still feel his body in my arms. Days later, and I haven't healed yet. Damnit, I haven't healed yet. Maybe I never will. Days later and there's paperwork, and there's an empty desk that's making my stomach ache. Days later and there's a feeling inside me like there's nothing left. Days later and I haven't healed. Days later, and the pain's still fresh. Months later, while I can still feel his blood on my fingers and watch as it spills onto me and stains the cloth of the suit I'm wearing. As I try to save him. But I fail. I failed. I failed. Months later as I try to piece together the shattered shards of my life. Months later trying to adjust to my new partner, that prim and proper bitch. Maybe I don't like her because she's not him. Months later, and she's not him. He is here, in my arms. Years later. I can smell the powder of the shot and the scent of Mulder's after-shave as I hold him in my arms. Years later, and I still hurt. Years later and I still don't understand. Years later, and I haven't given up. Never give up, he told me. Never give up. A lifetime later, and he's still here with me, dying in my arms. Killing me. Dying. Blood draining onto the pavement and I cannot stop it, though I try. Or I don't. I cannot remember, and it does not matter now. It doesn't matter now. Years later, and it doesn't matter. A lifetime later, and it doesn't matter. And she's not him, and I'm not him... And he's gone. A lifetime later and he's still gone. There's a quest here left unfulfilled. There are promises kept and promises forgotten and empty assurances that are left dying. Never give up, he told me. And I haven't. She's not him, but I haven't. He hasn't. Even now his own fight is fought. The truth he tried so hard to uncover lies buried and I haven't found it. Has he? Perhaps. Never give up. Maybe he wasn't talking to me. Maybe he was telling me. Informing me. Of his own quest in the afterlife. Telling me about his plans. A lifetime later, and I don't know. A lifetime later and the pain is fresh and I don't know. A lifetime later and I still don't fucking understand. Explain it to me, Mulder. For old time's sake. I'll believe you this time. I won't try to rip you apart. I won't try to debunk you. This is for me this time, Mulder. Explain it to me. A lifetime later, and the pieces are scattered and I cannot retrieve them all and I don't know what to do. A lifetime later, and I still don't understand. Every minute, he's dying in my arms and I am not saving him and I wish I was. Every minute, I'm remembering him. Every minute, he's slipping away from me and I'm slipping away from myself. Every minute, I'm dying along with him. Every minute I'm bleeding his blood and I'm fighting his fight and I'm following the path he laid out for me and I cannot break free. Every minute I'm bleeding his blood. Never give up. And I can't because he told me so. And that may be the stupidest excuse, but it's true. I can't give up now. I can't. She's not him, but I'm bleeding his blood. A lifetime later, and I'm trying to get him back. A lifetime later, and all I want is to be able to say, "Mulder, you're such a bastard, running away from me like this." I just want to be able to tell him about my pain. A lifetime later, and I can't understand why it happened, why he had to be wasted so trivially. A lifetime later, and the pieces still don't fit together to make a whole. I'm broken inside, and I'm bleeding his blood. And she's not him, but she's tried to make up for it. She knows she can't compete. She's not him. But I'm aching now, and I'm bleeding. And it's not my blood. I'm crying but they aren't my tears and I'm screaming but that's not my voice! And I'm not giving up. Never give up, he told me. And I'm trying to remember. A lifetime later, and I can't forget and I can't remember and the pieces don't fit together. And when I bleed it's not my blood and the air I breathe is not my own and I'm dying. I'm dying, Mulder. Save me. Explain to me the secrets. Tell me what I'm waiting for. Tell me what I haven't given up on. I need you to tell me. A lifetime later, and you're still aren't speaking to me. A lifetime later, and all I want is for you to contradict me, and to tell me I'm wrong. A lifetime later, and I cannot force the pieces back together. A lifetime later and I won't give up. Never give up, he said. And I'm trying. ~~ Please, tell me what you thought! Cheers, Laura ~*~ http://fly.to/visions.of.sugarplums ~*~ "Every day, I am forced to add names to the list of people who piss me off." -From a tee-shirt