Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org
Sittin' and Thinkin'by Sheryl Martin
Fox Mulder sighed as he flipped around the channels again; searching for something to take his mind off the never-ending movie inside his head. With an exasperated groan he tossed the control to one side of the couch, reaching over to put in one of his "special" tapes to still the voices in his mind.
The blood. That's what kept coming back to the front of his mind when he wasn't working; wasn't concentrating on something. The blood on his hands as he laid his father back down on the bathroom floor...
The blood on his shirt as he carried the senior Mulder to the couch; lovingly laying him down as if he was just too tired to keep his eyes open. He had almost pulled a blanket around him to keep him warm.
The blood just never went away. He knew that it was all psychological; these images that burned in his inner eye when he paused to think. But it wouldn't leave him.
And sometimes it mingled with the other blood; the ones he didn't have physically on his hands, but he was responsible for.
Melissa Scully, bleeding to death from a head shot on the apartment floor; her lifeblood seeping into the wooden cracks and under the door. Staining the dark wood so deeply that no matter how you tried; you couldn't return the floor to it's original colour.
Dana Scully, her torn and bloody hands held firm by the rope in Duane Barry's trunk; a piece of her gentle red hair ripped free and trapped in his watchband. The picture of her staring at the video camera; pleading for help.
Samantha. Taken right in front of him. What had they done to her; had they drilled her teeth like Barry said? Had they done to her what Scully was even now struggling to remember? How much blood had she shed to atone for his lack of faith?
All on his hands. He lifted them in front of his face; blocking the images dancing across the television screen. The ghostly scarlet shading of the porn film dyed them red again. And nothing he could do would ever erase them totally, would it?
Even if he did find Samantha and brought her home.
Even if he did confront the men who killed Melissa.
Even if he did kill the men who did those things to Dana...
He frowned, his mind racing. Kill? Strong words, Mulder. So you'd kill the men who abducted your partner and not the ones who took Sam?
Well, it's different. His thoughts split down two paths. I mean, the men who took Sam might be dead now; might not be available for revenge. But those bastards who took Scully; they were still alive. And he...
Walking in darkness... that's what Melissa had said to him, just before he passed up his best and only chance to avenge Dana. Don't walk in the darkness. And if he had stayed in this apartment; waited for them and killed them, Dana would have died. He knew this to be true. So he had passed on his anger and bloodlust to go to her side and help her back.
And his father had been partially responsible for those men taking Sam. As he was for them taking Dana. The sins of the father...
He turned his attention back to the video, forcing the thoughts back down to the bottom of his consciousness. This wasn't something he could deal with, not right now.
Maybe never.
The phone rang, jolting him out of his couch. Slamming his fist down on the control to mute the video, he picked up the receiver.
"Mulder..."
"It's Scully." He paused, hearing the tension in her voice. They were tired, they had both been so tired lately. And it was beginning to show; in the little snips and darts; in the pointless arguments. Hopefully it'd pass...
"Yah?"
"Did you find a glove in the front seat of your car? I think I lost it there on the way back from the airport..."
"Ah... no. Not yet."
"Okay." The thick silence hurt. "I'll see you at the office tomorrow."
"Right."
"Bye." The line went dead. He stared at the receiver for a long time before putting it down. Was this the cost his father had paid for his search for the truth? To lose him, his sister and their mother? To lose his friends, his faith in his country... his soul?
And could he make the same sacrifices... could Scully? Because she was as driven as he was now; hunting for the answers.
But at what cost... and at the end, what would they be like?
He sighed, and turned the tape back on again. The answers sure weren't on the video, but it was better than thinking. And he'd had enough of that lately. Stretching out on the sofa, Fox Mulder stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry.
*******************
"In order to live free and happily, you must sacrifice boredom. It is not always an easy sacrifice."Richard Bach - "Illusions"