The Burning Embers
"Is there no way out of the mind?"-Sylvia Plath
Chapter 3
"Checkmate."
"Whoa. You know you're like a chess genius. Have you ever thought of entering contests or something?"
Yves put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile at Jimmy and Gibson's game of chess on an old, beat up card table. Jimmy didn't know about Gibson's psychic ability yet, although she reasoned that still wouldn't have stopped Gibson from beating Jimmy.
Gibson looked up at Jimmy and said softly, "I use to but I've given that up now."
Jimmy gave a low whistle. "Well your should rethink that. How many times have you beaten me?"
"Seven."
"Seven. Well this is a tough game. Not as fun as football. I still can't see why Byers loved it so much," said Jimmy with a sad smile. "Now football, there's a great sport!"
Gibson's face said otherwise.
Yves stifled a yawn. It had been a long, exhausting day-physically, mentally, and spiritually. She had felt herself nearly give way to tears many times as she and Jimmy packed up the remains of the Gunmen's lives. They had made her soft. They had made her care. It was both a curse, and a blessing.
She got up from the ragged couch and walked over to the two. They looked up at her. "Well I'm going to bed. Goodnight, boys. Don't stay up too late." Yves absently put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder before turning away and walking down the hallway, into the darkness and out of sight.
Unnoticed by her, Jimmy watched her until the dark hallway swallowed her up and he could see her no longer. His face bore no voice to his thoughts as he turned back to face Gibson. Gibson didn't need to read his face any way.
Gibson reached for Jimmy's empty plate, placed it on top of his, and took it to the sink while Jimmy cleaned up the chessboard and put the pieces back into its box. Jimmy then joined Gibson at the sink as Gibson washed the dishes and Jimmy dried them. "So why are people after you?" asked Jimmy toweling one of the plates dry.
"I can read minds."
Jimmy began to laugh and then, after seeing Gibson's face, didn't. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Cool," said Jimmy breaking out into a grin. Like a child with the wonderment of a new toy, he did not stop to think of the consequences of Gibson's ability at that moment. "Okay tell me what number I'm thinking of right now." Jimmy screwed his face up in a look of hard concentration.
"1,497."
"Whoa," Jimmy said highly impressed. Still looking at Gibson he realized what a silly question he had asked him. He didn't need to be a genius to tell what a scared and lonely kid this was.
Gibson suddenly looked away and became very interested in washing the next plate. A few moments later he handed the wet, clean plate to Jimmy.
"So where's your parents?" asked Jimmy quietly accepting the plate.
Gibson shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "They were never my real parents. I was adopted. After that chess incident...." His voice trailed off. "They became frightened of me. They didn't want anything to do with me. Maybe if I didn't have this..."
Jimmy shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry about that. That's tough."
A flare of anger began to rise in Gibson. "Scully said I was special.' I hate being special.'"
Jimmy felt very out of his league to help Gibson. He suddenly wished Yves was still here, or Byers, Langely, and Frohike. He suddenly felt very alone. He had always depended so much on other people to think the big thoughts and say the right things.
Gibson easily read Jimmy's thoughts and felt sorry for this outburst. He knew Jimmy would help him if he could. "You miss them," he said simply.
"Yes," said Jimmy hollowly. His mind was a million miles away thinking back bitter sweetly upon happier days.
"You're worried about her."
Jimmy snapped back to reality. He might have failed to help Langely, Frohike, and Byers but he was not going to fail Yves. He would die to protect her, this he knew. She was the dearest thing he had left. And yet he feared deep down that he would be her downfall and yet could not let her go. He never wanted to relive that year he spent without her in his life. He had felt so incomplete then, unlike now. Out loud he said, "I'm worried I'm holding her back, that I'm putting her more at risk by her being here and helping me to continue the guy's work.
"You love her," deduced Gibson, having read this ultimate devotion before.
Jimmy looked at Gibson. He said nothing. There was no need to. But it was then that he felt it. He felt why they would kill this young boy. He felt the fear that he was exposed and could never hide his thoughts again. He thought all the bad people he had meet since meeting the Gunmen and thought of all their secrets exposed to the American people. Then sadness washed over him so complete he almost drowned. If they had had Gibson a few months ago, they would have known who had the biological weapon planted inside of them. The Gunmen never would have had to die.
Jimmy looked at Gibson who was eyeing him warily. He cleared his thought and said, "Well perhaps we should take Yves advice and not stay up too late." Jimmy showed Gibson to his room and said, "Don't worry, about Mulder and Scully. Doggett and Reyes will get there in time to help them. And in the meantime, we won't let anything happen to you."
Gibson nodded. He went into his spartan but clean room and closed the door. He sank down, his back against the door, his knees pulled up to his chest. He wanted to believe everything would be okay. They deserved to be free. They all did. He cast his mind far away, trying to follow the thin thought threads of four agents amidst a cacophony of millions upon millions of people's thoughts. He could hear nothing.
"Is there no way out of the mind?"-Sylvia Plath
Chapter 3
"Checkmate."
"Whoa. You know you're like a chess genius. Have you ever thought of entering contests or something?"
Yves put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile at Jimmy and Gibson's game of chess on an old, beat up card table. Jimmy didn't know about Gibson's psychic ability yet, although she reasoned that still wouldn't have stopped Gibson from beating Jimmy.
Gibson looked up at Jimmy and said softly, "I use to but I've given that up now."
Jimmy gave a low whistle. "Well your should rethink that. How many times have you beaten me?"
"Seven."
"Seven. Well this is a tough game. Not as fun as football. I still can't see why Byers loved it so much," said Jimmy with a sad smile. "Now football, there's a great sport!"
Gibson's face said otherwise.
Yves stifled a yawn. It had been a long, exhausting day-physically, mentally, and spiritually. She had felt herself nearly give way to tears many times as she and Jimmy packed up the remains of the Gunmen's lives. They had made her soft. They had made her care. It was both a curse, and a blessing.
She got up from the ragged couch and walked over to the two. They looked up at her. "Well I'm going to bed. Goodnight, boys. Don't stay up too late." Yves absently put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder before turning away and walking down the hallway, into the darkness and out of sight.
Unnoticed by her, Jimmy watched her until the dark hallway swallowed her up and he could see her no longer. His face bore no voice to his thoughts as he turned back to face Gibson. Gibson didn't need to read his face any way.
Gibson reached for Jimmy's empty plate, placed it on top of his, and took it to the sink while Jimmy cleaned up the chessboard and put the pieces back into its box. Jimmy then joined Gibson at the sink as Gibson washed the dishes and Jimmy dried them. "So why are people after you?" asked Jimmy toweling one of the plates dry.
"I can read minds."
Jimmy began to laugh and then, after seeing Gibson's face, didn't. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Cool," said Jimmy breaking out into a grin. Like a child with the wonderment of a new toy, he did not stop to think of the consequences of Gibson's ability at that moment. "Okay tell me what number I'm thinking of right now." Jimmy screwed his face up in a look of hard concentration.
"1,497."
"Whoa," Jimmy said highly impressed. Still looking at Gibson he realized what a silly question he had asked him. He didn't need to be a genius to tell what a scared and lonely kid this was.
Gibson suddenly looked away and became very interested in washing the next plate. A few moments later he handed the wet, clean plate to Jimmy.
"So where's your parents?" asked Jimmy quietly accepting the plate.
Gibson shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "They were never my real parents. I was adopted. After that chess incident...." His voice trailed off. "They became frightened of me. They didn't want anything to do with me. Maybe if I didn't have this..."
Jimmy shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry about that. That's tough."
A flare of anger began to rise in Gibson. "Scully said I was special.' I hate being special.'"
Jimmy felt very out of his league to help Gibson. He suddenly wished Yves was still here, or Byers, Langely, and Frohike. He suddenly felt very alone. He had always depended so much on other people to think the big thoughts and say the right things.
Gibson easily read Jimmy's thoughts and felt sorry for this outburst. He knew Jimmy would help him if he could. "You miss them," he said simply.
"Yes," said Jimmy hollowly. His mind was a million miles away thinking back bitter sweetly upon happier days.
"You're worried about her."
Jimmy snapped back to reality. He might have failed to help Langely, Frohike, and Byers but he was not going to fail Yves. He would die to protect her, this he knew. She was the dearest thing he had left. And yet he feared deep down that he would be her downfall and yet could not let her go. He never wanted to relive that year he spent without her in his life. He had felt so incomplete then, unlike now. Out loud he said, "I'm worried I'm holding her back, that I'm putting her more at risk by her being here and helping me to continue the guy's work.
"You love her," deduced Gibson, having read this ultimate devotion before.
Jimmy looked at Gibson. He said nothing. There was no need to. But it was then that he felt it. He felt why they would kill this young boy. He felt the fear that he was exposed and could never hide his thoughts again. He thought all the bad people he had meet since meeting the Gunmen and thought of all their secrets exposed to the American people. Then sadness washed over him so complete he almost drowned. If they had had Gibson a few months ago, they would have known who had the biological weapon planted inside of them. The Gunmen never would have had to die.
Jimmy looked at Gibson who was eyeing him warily. He cleared his thought and said, "Well perhaps we should take Yves advice and not stay up too late." Jimmy showed Gibson to his room and said, "Don't worry, about Mulder and Scully. Doggett and Reyes will get there in time to help them. And in the meantime, we won't let anything happen to you."
Gibson nodded. He went into his spartan but clean room and closed the door. He sank down, his back against the door, his knees pulled up to his chest. He wanted to believe everything would be okay. They deserved to be free. They all did. He cast his mind far away, trying to follow the thin thought threads of four agents amidst a cacophony of millions upon millions of people's thoughts. He could hear nothing.