28: At the going down of the sun
TITLE: At the going down of the sun
AUTHOR: memories_child
SPOILERS: Jump The Shark
RATING: PG
CHARACTER/PAIRING: Mulder / The Lone Gunmen
WORD COUNT: 231
DISCLAIMER: I'm not making any money off these.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is drabble number 28 based on the prompt 'Brave like soldier'. Originally written for and posted at Inkstains Plus.
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Mulder drinks to their memory each night, raising a toast of whatever he holds in his hand at the time. Every once in a while he has a cheese steak, watches footage of the Apollo moon landings and carries on the real/fake conversation in his head.
They shall not grow old as we who are left grow old.
For him, the gunmen are figures frozen in time. They are his most trying contacts, his most paranoid conspirators, his best friends. And death can't change that.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
The image he thinks of most, when he thinks of the gunmen, is of them in their office, computer screens blazing and heated voices gearing up to an argument.
They agreed on nothing, when it came to conspiracies. Agreed on nothing most of the time, now he comes to think of it, except that Scully's hot. And on this, he has to agree too.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
Their ghosts dance around his mind, and sometimes he thinks he sees them, fleetingly, out of the corner of his eye. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge their spectral memories, but always fails. And secretly he's glad.
We will remember them.
So he drinks a toast to their memory every night, with whatever drink he has in his hands, and remembers.
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AUTHOR: memories_child
SPOILERS: Jump The Shark
RATING: PG
CHARACTER/PAIRING: Mulder / The Lone Gunmen
WORD COUNT: 231
DISCLAIMER: I'm not making any money off these.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is drabble number 28 based on the prompt 'Brave like soldier'. Originally written for and posted at Inkstains Plus.
_______________
Mulder drinks to their memory each night, raising a toast of whatever he holds in his hand at the time. Every once in a while he has a cheese steak, watches footage of the Apollo moon landings and carries on the real/fake conversation in his head.
They shall not grow old as we who are left grow old.
For him, the gunmen are figures frozen in time. They are his most trying contacts, his most paranoid conspirators, his best friends. And death can't change that.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
The image he thinks of most, when he thinks of the gunmen, is of them in their office, computer screens blazing and heated voices gearing up to an argument.
They agreed on nothing, when it came to conspiracies. Agreed on nothing most of the time, now he comes to think of it, except that Scully's hot. And on this, he has to agree too.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
Their ghosts dance around his mind, and sometimes he thinks he sees them, fleetingly, out of the corner of his eye. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge their spectral memories, but always fails. And secretly he's glad.
We will remember them.
So he drinks a toast to their memory every night, with whatever drink he has in his hands, and remembers.
Previous drabble | Next drabble