Title: Hemorrhage (In my Hands)
Author: Dramphile
Rating: PG-13 or Mild R for Graphic violence
Category: Story, Angst, Scully POV
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: as oddly CC-like this character torture is, I am not the Surfer God and I do not own them... *sniff*
Summary: Your blood sticks to my hands and won't let go
Author's notes: What is it with me and writing angsty fic inspired by angsty songs? This was inspired by Hemorrhage (in My Hands) by Fuel (lyrics at the end) don't read this if you're squeamish, it's pretty bloody. Enjoy!
Hemorrhage (in my Hands)
By Fuel
I keep washing my hands, but they never seem to come clean. My hands burn red and raw, cracked and dry from washing them over and over again, but I can still feel the blood there, hiding in the creases, in the grooves of my fingerprints. Your blood sticks to my hands and won't let go. I'm like Lady Macbeth, no matter how many times I wash my hands; the guilt keeps them bloody. I should have watched you, I should have protected you, I should have been there.
Even now, as I look into the mirror in the hospital bathroom, I see someone besides myself, my eyes are puffy and red. I keep telling myself that I'm an FBI agent, I'm strong, I don't cry, but the tears fall anyways. I haven't slept since Tuesday night even though I know better. My clothes are covered in your red, red blood, but now it's dried and brown, stiffened and scratchy against my skin because it's not in you anymore.
You'd think I'd be used to the blood and the emergency rooms now and nothing would make me flinch anymore after all the autopsies I've performed, all the mutilated bodies I've cut up, but today was different. I came so close to losing you, right there in that parking lot.
I keep going over it again and again in my head. How I could have been there to stop the bullet that tore through your shirt, your skin, your body. I was in the alley when I heard the shot. I saw you fall and I prayed to a God I'm not sure I believe in to keep you alive as I chased down that bastard down. I shot him between the eyes and I watched his brains splatter on the wall and my only regret is that he died to quickly, he deserved more suffering like those women he raped and mutilated and left to die.
I ran so fast to get back to you, and I saw you on the asphalt, the red stain spreading across your shirt like watercolors bleeding to the edge of the page and time stopped for an instant. I tried to push it all back in, to hold your life in with my hands, but it pulsed out between my fingers with every fluttering heartbeat. My cell phone slipped from my bloody hands and clattered to the ground again and again. I barely remember talking to the 911 operator and giving her my well-rehearsed speech.
"Federal Agent down, gunshot to the left chest, suspect believed to be dead." I rattled off our location and dropped the cell phone. I begged you not to leave me alone. You tried to speak, but it came out as a weak gurgle and only made your face scrunch up more in pain. I didn't hear the sirens come after what seemed like too long. They had to pull me off you to get you to the ambulance.
I stared at my hands, the blood glittering under the flashing red and blue lights for a long time, dumbfounded. I wiped them off and numbly followed you away.
The waiting room mocks me with its pastel colored chairs and the soap operas unfolding en Español on the wall-mounted tv's. You're on the Brink they say, hanging by a thread that swings dangerously close to the blade.
You can't die; I won't let you die on me, not like this, not when I didn't get to say goodbye.
Then the blood would never wash from my hands.
~fin~
"Don't fall away, and leave me to myself
Don't fall away, and leave love bleeding in my hands,
In my hands again,
Leave love bleeding in my hands,
In my hands,
Love lies bleeding..."
Hemorrhage (in my Hands) by Fuel
FEEDBACK!!
*thank you!*
Author: Dramphile
Rating: PG-13 or Mild R for Graphic violence
Category: Story, Angst, Scully POV
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: as oddly CC-like this character torture is, I am not the Surfer God and I do not own them... *sniff*
Summary: Your blood sticks to my hands and won't let go
Author's notes: What is it with me and writing angsty fic inspired by angsty songs? This was inspired by Hemorrhage (in My Hands) by Fuel (lyrics at the end) don't read this if you're squeamish, it's pretty bloody. Enjoy!
Hemorrhage (in my Hands)
By Fuel
I keep washing my hands, but they never seem to come clean. My hands burn red and raw, cracked and dry from washing them over and over again, but I can still feel the blood there, hiding in the creases, in the grooves of my fingerprints. Your blood sticks to my hands and won't let go. I'm like Lady Macbeth, no matter how many times I wash my hands; the guilt keeps them bloody. I should have watched you, I should have protected you, I should have been there.
Even now, as I look into the mirror in the hospital bathroom, I see someone besides myself, my eyes are puffy and red. I keep telling myself that I'm an FBI agent, I'm strong, I don't cry, but the tears fall anyways. I haven't slept since Tuesday night even though I know better. My clothes are covered in your red, red blood, but now it's dried and brown, stiffened and scratchy against my skin because it's not in you anymore.
You'd think I'd be used to the blood and the emergency rooms now and nothing would make me flinch anymore after all the autopsies I've performed, all the mutilated bodies I've cut up, but today was different. I came so close to losing you, right there in that parking lot.
I keep going over it again and again in my head. How I could have been there to stop the bullet that tore through your shirt, your skin, your body. I was in the alley when I heard the shot. I saw you fall and I prayed to a God I'm not sure I believe in to keep you alive as I chased down that bastard down. I shot him between the eyes and I watched his brains splatter on the wall and my only regret is that he died to quickly, he deserved more suffering like those women he raped and mutilated and left to die.
I ran so fast to get back to you, and I saw you on the asphalt, the red stain spreading across your shirt like watercolors bleeding to the edge of the page and time stopped for an instant. I tried to push it all back in, to hold your life in with my hands, but it pulsed out between my fingers with every fluttering heartbeat. My cell phone slipped from my bloody hands and clattered to the ground again and again. I barely remember talking to the 911 operator and giving her my well-rehearsed speech.
"Federal Agent down, gunshot to the left chest, suspect believed to be dead." I rattled off our location and dropped the cell phone. I begged you not to leave me alone. You tried to speak, but it came out as a weak gurgle and only made your face scrunch up more in pain. I didn't hear the sirens come after what seemed like too long. They had to pull me off you to get you to the ambulance.
I stared at my hands, the blood glittering under the flashing red and blue lights for a long time, dumbfounded. I wiped them off and numbly followed you away.
The waiting room mocks me with its pastel colored chairs and the soap operas unfolding en Español on the wall-mounted tv's. You're on the Brink they say, hanging by a thread that swings dangerously close to the blade.
You can't die; I won't let you die on me, not like this, not when I didn't get to say goodbye.
Then the blood would never wash from my hands.
~fin~
"Don't fall away, and leave me to myself
Don't fall away, and leave love bleeding in my hands,
In my hands again,
Leave love bleeding in my hands,
In my hands,
Love lies bleeding..."
Hemorrhage (in my Hands) by Fuel
FEEDBACK!!
*thank you!*