Monday
By Hotaru Disclaimer: These characters are not mine...(like I'd be smart enough to be able to create them anyway)
Red.
I looked down at my chest and saw red. A burning sensation slowly rose and overwhelmed me as the burgundy-colored liquid rapidly spread across my shirt. It was the dreadful color that implied death. I looked back up at the cause of my pain. The man who shot me stood there, breathing hard. The pistol was still smoking in his shaky hands. I could tell he was frightened. In fact he was scared out of his wits. A man like that was a dangerous one, because fear and anxiety had made his state of mind instable and irrational. It also meant he won't be thinking straight. Robbing a bank was one thing, murder was definitely another, especially when the one he shot was a FBI agent, namely me. Scully stood behind him. Her usually calm, cool demeanor reshaped into the ultimate expression of shock and horror.
Zip-piddy-doo-da.
My legs gave way, and my body hit the cold, hard marble floor with a loud "thud". That hurt. I must have knocked the air out of my lungs when my body made impact with the solid ground. I inhaled deeply. I could feel my chest rising slowly up and down as my lungs carried out my attempt of respiration. And that hurt even worse. The bullet must have punctured my lungs. Suddenly, someone swept me up and gently rested my head in her lap. I opened my eyes and met Scully's liquid green pupils staring down at me with grave concern. I let out a relieved sigh. Of course it was Scully. Who else would I expect?
"Zip-piddy-doo-da." I whispered at her. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it only ended up in a grimace.
"Shut up, Mulder." My Doctor Scully wasted no time in tending to my wound. She ripped open my shirt with trembling hands. They were the same hands of the pathologist who wouldn't make the slightest flinch while slicing and dicing. She made a little gasp when she saw the entrance wound on my chest. From the look on her face I knew it wouldn't be good news. And there wasn't much she could do at the moment since the only equipment she had were her dainty little hands. She was trying to hold her tears back. But that was gonna be as hard as trying to stop my awful bleeding, I wager. She pressed her hands against the wound. Still that wasn't helping. My body was still stubbornly spilling out red fluids that began to leak through her fingers and flowed onto the floor.
The floor felt cold against my skin even through the shirt I was wearing. I was starting to miss my cozy little couch and my blanket. Though no waterbeds, I assure you. The whole place was getting colder and colder. I shivered. Scully felt it. I knew from the slight tensing of her muscles and the increased pace of her voice as she spoke to the SOB who shot me. We knew each other so well these days, it was as if we're of two bodies but one mind. I looked up at her, and saw that usually unbreakable calm, protective shell of hers cracking from emotion. Oh yes, she was cracking up inside-out, outside-in. Her hands pressed harder against my chest. I winced. She noticed. Her creamy-skinned hands were now covered with blood. My blood. She was shaking. I could tell she wanted to shoot that peanut-eating bastard right in the head and blow his brains out so that she could get me outta here. But she was still trying to convince that little scum-sucker to put down his gun and let us out the peaceful way. Like hell he would. I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them again. Then, to my horror as well as every patron in the bank's, that SOB had a bomb. And from the degree of anxiety that amateur bank robber was experiencing, he would definitely flick the switch and blow everyone into pieces without giving it so much as a thought. And Scully was still busying herself trying to find out that bastard's name. Like anyone cared. Bernard. His name was Bernard. Yeah. Whatever. My chest was hurting like hell and I stopped listening.
Scully's gaze shifted down to meet mine for a brief moment. Six years together had shaped our unspoken communication technique into perfection. The message in her eyes were clear. Hang on. She told me silently, teary-eyed. You're gonna make it.
Hang on? I was confused for a second. Then the stunning realization hit me like a rock. I'm going to die.
I wasn't scared. Death had always been my next-door neighbour. We knew each other so well it wasn't even frightening anymore. It was just that after so many near-death experiences involving mutants and aliens and the black oil and monsters and the conspiracy and everything else, I just find it ironic to have to die from an amateur bank robber's bullet. Well, at least it wasn't autoerotic asphyxiation. I should be grateful already.
I opened my mouth to speak, and only succeeded in choking up a mouthful of blood that flowed down the corner of my lips. The whole place felt like it had dropped twenty degrees. I was cold. In fact, I was freezing. I was so cold my teeth chattered involuntarily.
"I just wanted everybody to live." Scully was pleading. She was pleading for everyone's life. Mostly mine. Oh, count me out, Scully. From the amount of blood I was losing in such a short period of time, the bullet had probably nicked the aorta. I'm not going to make it. And it should be obvious to Scully, too, since she was a doctor and a pathologist and everything. My poor Dana was just drowning herself in the river of denial by trying to convince herself that she could save me. Not this time, I'm afraid. Death had waved his hand at me before but this time he called my name. Nope. Luck had finally run out on me.
"Scully.." I barely managed to choke out her name. Speaking hurts. Oh, boy, it really hurts.
"Hush, Mulder." She shot me a look, one filled with concern and care and..love. How I know that look. How I love that look. But, unfortunately, I couldn't abide her wish this time. She continued, in a voice that was trembling with emotions. "Don't talk. Everything's gonna be just fine."
Yeah, right. The hell it's gonna be fine.
"Scully.." I tried again, and it came out in a whisper. And it was all I could manage to do. My chest hurt like hell. Man, where were all the painkillers when you need them?
"Just shut up, Mulder." She said. Her liquid green eyes were threatening me to close my mouth for good with that oh-so-familiar glare that would put the Death Star to shame.
I wanted to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "I need to say this.." I said weakly, almost using up all my remaining strength. My voice was becoming so soft and tiny I was beginning to worry that she won't be able to hear me. But apparently, she did. So I went on. "I love you.." My voice trailed off. Six years together and we could sum it all up into three words. I prayed to whichever God that was listening right now that she won't brush it off this time. Please don't. I'm gonna die right then and there if she did.
"That was nice to hear." Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and dripped onto my face. "Now, I want you to tell me that again after I've got you nicely tucked in on a hospital bed, deal?"
Thank heavens. The Gods were listening. It wasn't "Oh, brother!". I feel like cheering Halleluiah. She didn't think I was delirious or anything. I wanted to say "deal". I wanted to tell her I wanna whisper those three words in her ears every minute of the day if that was what she wanted. But I couldn't. I didn't have the strength. Nor did I want to lie to her. It was getting colder. My eyelids were getting heavier. They were threatening to close any minute now. I was tired. I just wanted to sleep..
"No-no-no-no-no, Mulder, you don't! Don't you dare die on me! Please don't! I won't let you! Stay awake! It doesn't have to end like this.." Scully was sounding frantic. She sounded like a madwoman. But I was too sleepy, too exhausted. I just wanted to rest.
I heard distant footsteps. I heard noises, like the sound of a lot of people storming into the building. But I was too tired to care. The lights were dimming. And I closed my eyes.
"Yes, it does." Came Bernard's reply in a tone filled with hopelessness. He sounded far away also. It was as if he was speaking from ten miles away. So, he was going to flick the damn switch after all. But then, my exhaustion and sleepiness overwhelmed me. Not that I still have any remaining strength to care about anything anymore.
The last thing I heard before everything blacked-out on me was Scully's distant, horrified scream.
"Noooooooooooooo - !"
KA-BOOM!
~ The End ~
By Hotaru Disclaimer: These characters are not mine...(like I'd be smart enough to be able to create them anyway)
Red.
I looked down at my chest and saw red. A burning sensation slowly rose and overwhelmed me as the burgundy-colored liquid rapidly spread across my shirt. It was the dreadful color that implied death. I looked back up at the cause of my pain. The man who shot me stood there, breathing hard. The pistol was still smoking in his shaky hands. I could tell he was frightened. In fact he was scared out of his wits. A man like that was a dangerous one, because fear and anxiety had made his state of mind instable and irrational. It also meant he won't be thinking straight. Robbing a bank was one thing, murder was definitely another, especially when the one he shot was a FBI agent, namely me. Scully stood behind him. Her usually calm, cool demeanor reshaped into the ultimate expression of shock and horror.
Zip-piddy-doo-da.
My legs gave way, and my body hit the cold, hard marble floor with a loud "thud". That hurt. I must have knocked the air out of my lungs when my body made impact with the solid ground. I inhaled deeply. I could feel my chest rising slowly up and down as my lungs carried out my attempt of respiration. And that hurt even worse. The bullet must have punctured my lungs. Suddenly, someone swept me up and gently rested my head in her lap. I opened my eyes and met Scully's liquid green pupils staring down at me with grave concern. I let out a relieved sigh. Of course it was Scully. Who else would I expect?
"Zip-piddy-doo-da." I whispered at her. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it only ended up in a grimace.
"Shut up, Mulder." My Doctor Scully wasted no time in tending to my wound. She ripped open my shirt with trembling hands. They were the same hands of the pathologist who wouldn't make the slightest flinch while slicing and dicing. She made a little gasp when she saw the entrance wound on my chest. From the look on her face I knew it wouldn't be good news. And there wasn't much she could do at the moment since the only equipment she had were her dainty little hands. She was trying to hold her tears back. But that was gonna be as hard as trying to stop my awful bleeding, I wager. She pressed her hands against the wound. Still that wasn't helping. My body was still stubbornly spilling out red fluids that began to leak through her fingers and flowed onto the floor.
The floor felt cold against my skin even through the shirt I was wearing. I was starting to miss my cozy little couch and my blanket. Though no waterbeds, I assure you. The whole place was getting colder and colder. I shivered. Scully felt it. I knew from the slight tensing of her muscles and the increased pace of her voice as she spoke to the SOB who shot me. We knew each other so well these days, it was as if we're of two bodies but one mind. I looked up at her, and saw that usually unbreakable calm, protective shell of hers cracking from emotion. Oh yes, she was cracking up inside-out, outside-in. Her hands pressed harder against my chest. I winced. She noticed. Her creamy-skinned hands were now covered with blood. My blood. She was shaking. I could tell she wanted to shoot that peanut-eating bastard right in the head and blow his brains out so that she could get me outta here. But she was still trying to convince that little scum-sucker to put down his gun and let us out the peaceful way. Like hell he would. I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them again. Then, to my horror as well as every patron in the bank's, that SOB had a bomb. And from the degree of anxiety that amateur bank robber was experiencing, he would definitely flick the switch and blow everyone into pieces without giving it so much as a thought. And Scully was still busying herself trying to find out that bastard's name. Like anyone cared. Bernard. His name was Bernard. Yeah. Whatever. My chest was hurting like hell and I stopped listening.
Scully's gaze shifted down to meet mine for a brief moment. Six years together had shaped our unspoken communication technique into perfection. The message in her eyes were clear. Hang on. She told me silently, teary-eyed. You're gonna make it.
Hang on? I was confused for a second. Then the stunning realization hit me like a rock. I'm going to die.
I wasn't scared. Death had always been my next-door neighbour. We knew each other so well it wasn't even frightening anymore. It was just that after so many near-death experiences involving mutants and aliens and the black oil and monsters and the conspiracy and everything else, I just find it ironic to have to die from an amateur bank robber's bullet. Well, at least it wasn't autoerotic asphyxiation. I should be grateful already.
I opened my mouth to speak, and only succeeded in choking up a mouthful of blood that flowed down the corner of my lips. The whole place felt like it had dropped twenty degrees. I was cold. In fact, I was freezing. I was so cold my teeth chattered involuntarily.
"I just wanted everybody to live." Scully was pleading. She was pleading for everyone's life. Mostly mine. Oh, count me out, Scully. From the amount of blood I was losing in such a short period of time, the bullet had probably nicked the aorta. I'm not going to make it. And it should be obvious to Scully, too, since she was a doctor and a pathologist and everything. My poor Dana was just drowning herself in the river of denial by trying to convince herself that she could save me. Not this time, I'm afraid. Death had waved his hand at me before but this time he called my name. Nope. Luck had finally run out on me.
"Scully.." I barely managed to choke out her name. Speaking hurts. Oh, boy, it really hurts.
"Hush, Mulder." She shot me a look, one filled with concern and care and..love. How I know that look. How I love that look. But, unfortunately, I couldn't abide her wish this time. She continued, in a voice that was trembling with emotions. "Don't talk. Everything's gonna be just fine."
Yeah, right. The hell it's gonna be fine.
"Scully.." I tried again, and it came out in a whisper. And it was all I could manage to do. My chest hurt like hell. Man, where were all the painkillers when you need them?
"Just shut up, Mulder." She said. Her liquid green eyes were threatening me to close my mouth for good with that oh-so-familiar glare that would put the Death Star to shame.
I wanted to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "I need to say this.." I said weakly, almost using up all my remaining strength. My voice was becoming so soft and tiny I was beginning to worry that she won't be able to hear me. But apparently, she did. So I went on. "I love you.." My voice trailed off. Six years together and we could sum it all up into three words. I prayed to whichever God that was listening right now that she won't brush it off this time. Please don't. I'm gonna die right then and there if she did.
"That was nice to hear." Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and dripped onto my face. "Now, I want you to tell me that again after I've got you nicely tucked in on a hospital bed, deal?"
Thank heavens. The Gods were listening. It wasn't "Oh, brother!". I feel like cheering Halleluiah. She didn't think I was delirious or anything. I wanted to say "deal". I wanted to tell her I wanna whisper those three words in her ears every minute of the day if that was what she wanted. But I couldn't. I didn't have the strength. Nor did I want to lie to her. It was getting colder. My eyelids were getting heavier. They were threatening to close any minute now. I was tired. I just wanted to sleep..
"No-no-no-no-no, Mulder, you don't! Don't you dare die on me! Please don't! I won't let you! Stay awake! It doesn't have to end like this.." Scully was sounding frantic. She sounded like a madwoman. But I was too sleepy, too exhausted. I just wanted to rest.
I heard distant footsteps. I heard noises, like the sound of a lot of people storming into the building. But I was too tired to care. The lights were dimming. And I closed my eyes.
"Yes, it does." Came Bernard's reply in a tone filled with hopelessness. He sounded far away also. It was as if he was speaking from ten miles away. So, he was going to flick the damn switch after all. But then, my exhaustion and sleepiness overwhelmed me. Not that I still have any remaining strength to care about anything anymore.
The last thing I heard before everything blacked-out on me was Scully's distant, horrified scream.
"Noooooooooooooo - !"
KA-BOOM!
~ The End ~