"And in the end you wind up dyin' all alone on some dusty street. For what? For a tin star. It's all for nothin', Will. It's all for nothin'." Martin Howe
Epilogue:
Right and Wrong
Vero Beach, outside De La Cruz Restaurant. One week later. 8:29 p.m.
It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear. Stars twinkled like gems. The moon was full and luminescent. A soft breeze came off the sea. It cooled the sultry night's air. Palms swayed. Leaves rustled gently. Offshore, the lights of liners crisscrossed to and fro. It was a brilliant show. On any other night, he would've enjoyed it. But not tonight.
He leaned on the limo. He knew his target would be along soon. All he needed was patience. He certainly didn't have doubts. He knew what had to be done. He was just ashamed he hadn't done it earlier. He gazed at the Heavens above. His mind dreamed of what life with her could be like. Peaceful like this? He doubted it. But then again, he loved the excitement of danger. And with her it would be all the more fun.
Voices brought reality back. Three men walked along the path to the lot. Two were burly. They had hard faces. You knew what they were all about. But it was the man in the center that he was after. The bad man. His face was like a mask. You never knew what was really going on.
The path wound by the sea. The Bad Man stopped. He gazed out along the sea. The two others stopped as well. They eyed their surroundings. What was the Bad Man thinking? Was he too wondering about the path not taken? No. More likely the Bad Man was thinking up more ways to hurt people. The Dreamer started down the path.
Immediately the two men saw him. That's what they were paid to do. They reached into their jackets. The Bad Man turned. He saw the approaching figure. He looked impatient. He looked to the burly men.
"No, no. There's no need for that."
The Bad Man stepped beyond the burly men. The Dreamer stopped just before him.
The Bad Man was impatient, "What're you doing here?"
The Dreamer's gaze was distant. He ignored the question. He looked to the twinkling sea. Moonlight bounced off it.
The Bad Man grew more impatient. His words came out one at a time.
"What are you doing here?"
The Dreamer's answer was as distant as his gaze.
"They weren't to be hurt."
The Bad Man was amused.
"You!?! You tell me: 'They weren't to be hurt'!?!
Then his face turned sour. He was wasting time here. And time is money.
"Who the hell do you think you are? You gave up your say about what's right and what's wrong a lifetime ago. And don't come to see me unless you're called upon."
The Bad Man started to walk past. The Dreamer stopped him with his hand. The burly men stepped in closer.
"Get your hands of me."
He looked at the Dreamer's hand with disgust. He threw it off. He was getting angry.
"So know you have a conscience? Where was that when you came to me years ago? Or do you forget so readily what I did for you? I told you where she'd run off to. I told you exactly where you could find your girl and her new man. We had a deal. The info, and then you work for me. It's not my fault you couldn't go through with it."
The Dreamer winced. They were painful memories. They still stung after all these years. He'd tried to put up a front. Act like he was all right inside. 'False face must hide what the false heart doth know.' He'd been successful at pretending. But inside he was crumbling apart.
"I told you she"- he bit his lip- "they weren't to be hurt."
The Bad Man smiled a cruel smile. A simple slip of the tongue. Now he understood.
"So you're smitten? Is that it? You'll fall for any skirt with a pretty smile. You're pathetic."
The Bad Man walked brusquely past.
He called over his shoulder, "Don't you worry, I'll have someone finish the job."
The rage returned to the Dreamer. He had felt it before. When he realized he'd been tricked. When he recognized the Bad Man's role in the attempt on his friends. He knew he had played a part. He knew he was in bed with the Devil. And he'd tried to atone for his sins that night. He'd put his life on the line. Now he couldn't stop until they were safe. And they weren't safe as long as the Bad Man lived.
The two burly men followed the Bad Man. They passed the Dreamer. He silently opened fire. The burly men were caught unawares. If their boss wasn't scared, why should they be? They fell like stones. The Bad Man stopped walking.
"So now you've gone and got yourself a backbone?" he called out.
The Bad Man turned to face his foe. He still wasn't scared. Far from it. He seemed more irritated than anything else.
"What're you going to do? Kill me? Ha! So then your conscience will be clear? Then you'll be able to sleep at night, right?"
The rage was still in the Dreamer's eyes. He was an arctic storm of emotion.
"No. But there'll be one less bad man in the world."
He pulled the trigger.
The Dreamer turned. He faced the soothing sea. The waves hypnotized him. His mind again wandered. To a different life. Eventually he broke his gaze. He started toward the parking lot.
He was done. He'd paid the devil his due. Now he'd have to get back to the hospital.
-----------------------
FBI Headquarters. The following morning.
Mulder sat idly. He leaned back in his chair. He was tempted to toss a pencil or two. But it wouldn't feel right. Not after what he'd read last night.
He leaned forward again. His eyes ran over the papers before him. That would make it 8 times he'd read it. It made him sick to his stomach. Sometimes he really wondered why he kept going. Once again he leaned back.
"Hey."
He looked up. It was Scully. Her tan jacket and pants were a far cry from the wet tee shirt Mulder remembered. He remembered it well. (After all, Mulder didn't have the cleanest of minds). They'd had little contact since coming back from Florida. Internal Affairs Investigations kept them apart. IAI wouldn't want the partners to get their stories straight. So Scully had been indefinitely moved out of the basement. *Maybe its better that way* Mulder thought, *she shouldn't be sucked down with me*. But then again, all that didn't matter anymore.
Scully sat down opposite Mulder. He sheepishly took his feet of the desk.
"Hey."
Mulder didn't meet her eyes. He went straight to the subject he knew best. The subject all his relationships stemmed from. The subject that consumed his life. His work.
"This came in last night."
Mulder pushed the papers to her. She glanced over them.
"What're these?"
Her striking blues eyes looked up into his. Mulder looked down at the desk. He felt guilty after ogling her in Florida. He couldn't meet her gaze. He turned and got to his feet. He began to pace.
"Those are from the Miami office. Caviare was stabbed in prison yesterday afternoon. And the meteor has disappeared from the evidence locker."
Scully was silent. She was contemplating something. Mulder paced quicker.
"IAI is dropping its investigation. I guess I should be ecstatic."
Mulder stopped by a wall. He slammed his fist into it. His voice rose.
"But that just means Deger walks off free. That's the Great American justice system."
The room was quiet again. Scully let Mulder cool off. She understood his frustration. She put some papers on the desk. Then she spoke up.
"Maybe there is justice, Mulder. I just don't know if it's the kind you're after."
Mulder turned back to her. He suddenly looked tired. Like he'd been up a lifetime.
"I got a fax from Sheriff Blake. They found Deger and two bodyguards murdered this morning. He thinks they were shot dead last night. There was no evidence at the scene. But Blake says it looks like a professional job. And we know Deger had his share of enemies."
Mulder walked over to Scully. He stood at the side of the desk. His gaze was distant. His mind farther away. He finally turned to Scully. Their eyes met. Mulder's anger melted in those blue pools. He seemed almost playful now.
"What would you do Scully? What would you do if you could have all the gold in the world?"
She smiled that small smile of hers.
"Couldn't I rather have world peace?"
Mulder smiled back. He sat down. She went on.
"I guess I'd put the money to good use with charities."- She paused- "And maybe get a nice little townhouse in Georgetown."- She paused again -"Along with a desk of my own in here."
They both smiled together.
"And what would you do, Mulder?"
Mulder shook his head.
"You know Scully, I don't know what I'd do. I just don't know if all that would be worth it."
Silence filled the room again. Both their minds wandered. Mulder's went to thoughts of gold, justice, and other things near and dear to men. But Scully stared at the fax she'd put down. Something in the back of her mind murmured. It was that look Blake had had when he saw Caviare. There had been something else there, some recognition…
Mulder's voice derailed her train of thought.
"Scully, about how I acted in Florida. I'm sorry if I-"
She shook her head.
"You weren't being irritating. I was the one who acted wrong, Mulder. I was just feeling tired, and-and- well, I was just a jerk. I apologize."
Mulder didn't tell her that he was talking about how he had ogled her.
She changed the subject, "Hey, I didn't get any breakfast, Mulder. You wanna go out and grab something?"
Mulder smiled. Maybe then he could tell her some things. Tell her about how he felt. Tell her how wanted to ogle her more. A lot more.
"Mulder? Mulder?"
She'd been talking while he'd zoned out.
"Is there something on your mind?"
Mulder swallowed. Maybe another time.
"No, no. It was nothing. Let's go."
They both got to their feet. Scully walked to the door. Mulder watched her walk to the door. He smiled. It was a nice view. Then he followed Scully.
She waited for him in the hallway.
"Where do you want to go?"
He shook his head.
"I don't know. But we gotta make a stop on the way."
"Where?"
"I have to pick up some cash at the bank."
-----------------------
-----------------------
I copped out. It's a lot easier leaving the tension in the air than actually putting in MSR. Sorry 'bout that. Also, I originally put in a monologue by Blake at the beginning, but I think it works better this way. See, I don't like my 'good' guys to be saints. I find it a lot more interesting if they've been tainted. Let me know what you think about that. BTW the quote about 'false face' I took from Macbeth.
- Your best bud writer (who's already starting another story- it'll be up tomorrow probably)
P.S.- The opening quote is from High Noon. It's a great movie. Go rent it ;-)
