Is This The Promised End?
Title: Is This The Promised End?
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Word Count: 1915ish
Rating: R to NC17, depending on your view
Summary: Five emotions of Fox Mulder after the end of the world.
Spoilers: Generally, I would say this takes place late season 7, becoming an AU. Small hint to The Post-Modern Prometheus.
Author's Note: Thank you to my friend Rachel over at Renegades for her wonderful beta and comments. Originally posted at
xf_santa forpalmaceae . The title comes from King Lear, and I drew inspiration from many songs (found at the end). This is the longest fic I have ever written and it went through many revamps - I hope it works!
XXXXXX
DEFEAT
Sometimes, at daybreak, he could see the smoke rising in the distance. It curled and snarled in reproach, unaccepting of the atmosphere it was forced to intercept. Eventually it submitted to an ashen sky, and assimilated into its ominous presence.
He couldn't remember the last time he saw the sun.
Mulder always passed this cliff during his short trek into the snowy forest for firewood. With the heavy sack over his shoulder, he stood near the edge and surveyed the land before him. A vast emptiness that was eerily quite. 'Though there wouldn't be much noise since it's the winter and they're in the middle of the forest,' he reasoned with himself. But for all his reasoning, he knew what was truly out there.
Nothing.
XXXXXX
SADNESS
They had a radio in their cabin. Most stations only had static, but there were one or two low on the dial that continually played pre-1980s music, commercial free for obvious reasons. They usually played it low for background noise, when the silence was too voluminous, but they would turn up the volume when they cooked or ate dinner. Most songs went unnoticed, but once in a while a particular song would throw Mulder back to a memory of "Before"; spring nights on the vineyard and playing checkers on the porch with Samantha; sitting in a pub in Oxford and nursing a broken heart over a pint of Guinness; a diner that he and Scully would frequent after a late night at the office.
One evening, a particular song came on while Scully was cooking that gave Mulder pause. Suddenly, he was transported back to a crowded performance hall with smokey air, clapping hands, and Scully in his arms as they swayed to upbeat melodies that spoke of Memphis.
He remembered the feeling of dancing with her - the laughter he had heard from Scully, being so, so close to her without the pretenses of sickness or loss. Even years later, in the wake of their new found closeness, stealing her away from the stove in her apartment to dance with her around her kitchen, while she giggly protested and he kissed her with overdue passion and happiness...
Happiness...
A term of the old world.
Another casualty of Mulder's "Truth".
A concept that had no bearings on this sad existence that the present bound them to.
Sadness existed in the air as atoms bound to each other.
And as Mulder was brought back to the present and realized that only sadness remained, he wondered if it would ever be appropriate to ask Scully to dance again.
XXXXXX
LOVE
The harsh realities of a forever-changed world were enough to bear during the day, so when they fell into bed at night, they concentrated on what they had, and not what they lost. Whether it was through tangled limbs and sweaty bodies under the sheets, or through simple caresses and embraces, it was within these moments that they could hold fast to the one truth that never wavered; each other.
In bed, feelings were much more open and raw. Whispers and reassurances were frequent; reconnection wanted and almost necessary. The first time he and Scully had made love after ... (Mulder still wasn't sure how to title it), their words had been just as vital as their actions.
"No matter what, we still have this," he had breathed into her mouth as he moved against her.
"We still...have...each other," she moaned in return as her climax overtook her.
Another night they laid in the dark, entangled in each other arms, Mulder drew imaginary characters on her back. He was concentrating so hard on every inch of skin that his fingers could reach that he almost didn't hear Scully when she spoke.
"Sometimes, I wonder what we're doing."
Mulder paused his fingers. "What do you mean?"
"What is the point of all this; of getting up every day, living as if this were normal."
The sour note of her voice caused Mulder to tighten his arms around her as he responded.
"We're doing exactly what we're suppose to be doing - we're surviving." he whispered into the top of her head
"Surviving with what? We have noth..."
"We have this," Mulder said, tightening his arm again, "this is something that can't be taken away. Beyond that, we survive, because surviving is the best way...the only way, to gain the upper hand."
Scully said nothing, so he continued.
"Something tells me that there will be more... that there is more for us beyond this place. But for now, this is how we fight. Sometimes the most effective fighting is done in silence. If nothing else, believe in that, and in this."
"...I believe," she sighed into his chest.
And so did he.
XXXXXX
ANGER
"SON OF A BITCH!" Mulder yelled as he threw down his wrench into the snow.
Their generator had started to leak gas the day before. And, since their fuel supply was limited, Mulder knew that he had to try to fix it as soon as possible, even if it was the middle of the night in freezing temperatures. The only problem was that Mulder wasn't mechanically inclined, so what seemed to be a simple fix of a gas hose turned into something more complicated than spinal surgery.
Frustrated and angry, he sat in the snow with his back against the cabin.
'What the hell am I doing?' he thought to himself. 'If I can't fix a damn generator hose, how can I even begin to think I can take care of us long-term...'
Soon his frustration led to helplessness, which in turn led to self-doubt and guilt. Thoughts of the past started racing through his head; of their work in a dark basement, never ending attempts to shed light on an elusive Truth, and all the personal casualties along the way. Although their current situation could be worse, Mulder couldn't help but think of how different everything could be if...
'If what?" he thought.
The guilt of their situation to heavy to bear, his head fell into his open hands.
"What the hell have I done?" he said to the cold silence.
While internal conflict was not a foreign concept to him, he knew it wasn't something that he could afford himself in their situation. Shaking his head to expunge those thoughts, he stood to find his wrench.
XXXXXX
HOPE
They hadn't seen, let alone thought about, the possibility of other people in months. So, when they heard three loud knocks on the front door early one morning, Mulder initially thought he was just dreaming. But when Scully turned to him in bed with a look of fear mixed with hope, he knew he wasn't.
Slowly, with weapons drawn, they crept from their bed to the front door and stood low next to the door frame. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he ever so slightly parted the window curtain to look out onto the porch.
"What do you see?" Scully whispered.
"Two people, male and female. Mid-30s to early 40s. Small sacks on their back. They're dressed for the cold, but look tired."
This time, a female voice accompanied the knock on the door, "Is anyone in there?"
"Do you think they're legitimate?" Scully asked.
"Only one way to find out," Mulder said as he stood, "But give me cover just in case."
Scully moved around and took cover next to the kitchen table. Mulder kept his gun trained on the door and held out his fingers, took another deep breath, and silently counted to three.
'Time to take a chance,' he thought, and with that, he swung the door open.
"HANDS UP," he yelled.
"Okay, okay, no problem buddy," the man said, as he and the woman slowly raised their hands above their head. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable."
"Slowly kneel down and sit on your hands," Mulder said.
"Okay, fine," the man said again, as they both slowly sank to their knees.
"Good. What do you want?" Mulder said a bit more calmly.
"My name is Joel and this is my wife Lauren. We were passing through, along that cliff about 50 yards back, and we saw your cabin in the distance. So we decided to check it out and see if anyone was here," Joel said slowly.
"How do I know you are really who you are?" Mulder said.
For a moment, neither one of the strangers said a word, and Mulder's pulse sped up.
traptraptraptrap.
Suddenly, Joel's eyes lit up. "I have a wound on my right arm from trying to sharpen my axe. I only did it the day before yesterday, so it may still be fresh enough to see the blood..."
"Blood?" Mulder interrupted, confused.
"I'm assuming you know about Their blood, if you can even call it blood. That's how we've been able to tell people from....well, Them." Joel concluded.
Realization dawned on Mulder, and a few embers of hope filled him as he turned to Scully. "Can you check it out?"
Slowly, Scully came around to face the couple and gave her gun to Mulder. She knelt down in front of Joel and reached for his arm.
"No funny moves, okay?" Mulder cautioned.
"Okay," Joel said nervously, as Scully lifted his arm away and pushed up his sleeve to reveal a long scrap of cloth and safety pin. She disconnected the pin and cautiously unrolled the cloth.
Sure enough, along Joel's inner arm, a long gash that was just beginning to scab over, still bloody in spots.
It was the best thing Mulder had seen in a long time.
Scully stood up and Mulder lowered his weapon. Joel and Lauren took this as a good sign and slowly stood, with their hands stuck out.
"As I said, my name is Joel, and this is my wife Lauren." he said as they shook hands. "We were passing through, and we saw your place, so we just thought we would take a chance, see if anyone....any humans, were home."
"Sorry for the, um...greeting," Scully said.
"We understand completely. This isn't the first time we've been greeted in such a manner," Lauren said. "You are the third couple to do so."
"There are others?" Mulder said.
"Yeah, about 14 of us." Lauren said. "We have a small settlement along the mountain side a few miles from here. The mountain, along with the cold temperatures and snow, has given us good cover from Them."
Mulder couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Others.
People.
Survivors.
Mulder hadn't given much thought to the fact that there could have been other survivors. Not because he didn't think that there was a possibility, but because the few times his mind wandered away from the walls of the cabin, it always went to a dark place that wasn't helpful to their situation.
He turned to Scully to see that her eyes reflected exactly what he was thinking.
Hope.
"It's a bit of a trek from here, but you both are more than welcome to come back to the settlement with us, check it out for yourselves, meet everyone," Joel offered.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Mulder smiled.
XXXXXX
songs that inspired:
Running From The Rain by Thursday
This Song is Brought To You By A Falling Bomb by Thursday
Red Sky by Thrice
Twenty-Two by Burns Out Bright
Jesus by Brand New
Flags of Dawn by Thrice
Ghost of You by MCR
**Warning: songs are either punk rock or modern rock,
so if that isn't your flavor, you may want to ignore the list**
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Word Count: 1915ish
Rating: R to NC17, depending on your view
Summary: Five emotions of Fox Mulder after the end of the world.
Spoilers: Generally, I would say this takes place late season 7, becoming an AU. Small hint to The Post-Modern Prometheus.
Author's Note: Thank you to my friend Rachel over at Renegades for her wonderful beta and comments. Originally posted at
xf_santa forpalmaceae . The title comes from King Lear, and I drew inspiration from many songs (found at the end). This is the longest fic I have ever written and it went through many revamps - I hope it works!
XXXXXX
DEFEAT
Sometimes, at daybreak, he could see the smoke rising in the distance. It curled and snarled in reproach, unaccepting of the atmosphere it was forced to intercept. Eventually it submitted to an ashen sky, and assimilated into its ominous presence.
He couldn't remember the last time he saw the sun.
Mulder always passed this cliff during his short trek into the snowy forest for firewood. With the heavy sack over his shoulder, he stood near the edge and surveyed the land before him. A vast emptiness that was eerily quite. 'Though there wouldn't be much noise since it's the winter and they're in the middle of the forest,' he reasoned with himself. But for all his reasoning, he knew what was truly out there.
Nothing.
XXXXXX
SADNESS
They had a radio in their cabin. Most stations only had static, but there were one or two low on the dial that continually played pre-1980s music, commercial free for obvious reasons. They usually played it low for background noise, when the silence was too voluminous, but they would turn up the volume when they cooked or ate dinner. Most songs went unnoticed, but once in a while a particular song would throw Mulder back to a memory of "Before"; spring nights on the vineyard and playing checkers on the porch with Samantha; sitting in a pub in Oxford and nursing a broken heart over a pint of Guinness; a diner that he and Scully would frequent after a late night at the office.
One evening, a particular song came on while Scully was cooking that gave Mulder pause. Suddenly, he was transported back to a crowded performance hall with smokey air, clapping hands, and Scully in his arms as they swayed to upbeat melodies that spoke of Memphis.
He remembered the feeling of dancing with her - the laughter he had heard from Scully, being so, so close to her without the pretenses of sickness or loss. Even years later, in the wake of their new found closeness, stealing her away from the stove in her apartment to dance with her around her kitchen, while she giggly protested and he kissed her with overdue passion and happiness...
Happiness...
A term of the old world.
Another casualty of Mulder's "Truth".
A concept that had no bearings on this sad existence that the present bound them to.
Sadness existed in the air as atoms bound to each other.
And as Mulder was brought back to the present and realized that only sadness remained, he wondered if it would ever be appropriate to ask Scully to dance again.
XXXXXX
LOVE
The harsh realities of a forever-changed world were enough to bear during the day, so when they fell into bed at night, they concentrated on what they had, and not what they lost. Whether it was through tangled limbs and sweaty bodies under the sheets, or through simple caresses and embraces, it was within these moments that they could hold fast to the one truth that never wavered; each other.
In bed, feelings were much more open and raw. Whispers and reassurances were frequent; reconnection wanted and almost necessary. The first time he and Scully had made love after ... (Mulder still wasn't sure how to title it), their words had been just as vital as their actions.
"No matter what, we still have this," he had breathed into her mouth as he moved against her.
"We still...have...each other," she moaned in return as her climax overtook her.
Another night they laid in the dark, entangled in each other arms, Mulder drew imaginary characters on her back. He was concentrating so hard on every inch of skin that his fingers could reach that he almost didn't hear Scully when she spoke.
"Sometimes, I wonder what we're doing."
Mulder paused his fingers. "What do you mean?"
"What is the point of all this; of getting up every day, living as if this were normal."
The sour note of her voice caused Mulder to tighten his arms around her as he responded.
"We're doing exactly what we're suppose to be doing - we're surviving." he whispered into the top of her head
"Surviving with what? We have noth..."
"We have this," Mulder said, tightening his arm again, "this is something that can't be taken away. Beyond that, we survive, because surviving is the best way...the only way, to gain the upper hand."
Scully said nothing, so he continued.
"Something tells me that there will be more... that there is more for us beyond this place. But for now, this is how we fight. Sometimes the most effective fighting is done in silence. If nothing else, believe in that, and in this."
"...I believe," she sighed into his chest.
And so did he.
XXXXXX
ANGER
"SON OF A BITCH!" Mulder yelled as he threw down his wrench into the snow.
Their generator had started to leak gas the day before. And, since their fuel supply was limited, Mulder knew that he had to try to fix it as soon as possible, even if it was the middle of the night in freezing temperatures. The only problem was that Mulder wasn't mechanically inclined, so what seemed to be a simple fix of a gas hose turned into something more complicated than spinal surgery.
Frustrated and angry, he sat in the snow with his back against the cabin.
'What the hell am I doing?' he thought to himself. 'If I can't fix a damn generator hose, how can I even begin to think I can take care of us long-term...'
Soon his frustration led to helplessness, which in turn led to self-doubt and guilt. Thoughts of the past started racing through his head; of their work in a dark basement, never ending attempts to shed light on an elusive Truth, and all the personal casualties along the way. Although their current situation could be worse, Mulder couldn't help but think of how different everything could be if...
'If what?" he thought.
The guilt of their situation to heavy to bear, his head fell into his open hands.
"What the hell have I done?" he said to the cold silence.
While internal conflict was not a foreign concept to him, he knew it wasn't something that he could afford himself in their situation. Shaking his head to expunge those thoughts, he stood to find his wrench.
XXXXXX
HOPE
They hadn't seen, let alone thought about, the possibility of other people in months. So, when they heard three loud knocks on the front door early one morning, Mulder initially thought he was just dreaming. But when Scully turned to him in bed with a look of fear mixed with hope, he knew he wasn't.
Slowly, with weapons drawn, they crept from their bed to the front door and stood low next to the door frame. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he ever so slightly parted the window curtain to look out onto the porch.
"What do you see?" Scully whispered.
"Two people, male and female. Mid-30s to early 40s. Small sacks on their back. They're dressed for the cold, but look tired."
This time, a female voice accompanied the knock on the door, "Is anyone in there?"
"Do you think they're legitimate?" Scully asked.
"Only one way to find out," Mulder said as he stood, "But give me cover just in case."
Scully moved around and took cover next to the kitchen table. Mulder kept his gun trained on the door and held out his fingers, took another deep breath, and silently counted to three.
'Time to take a chance,' he thought, and with that, he swung the door open.
"HANDS UP," he yelled.
"Okay, okay, no problem buddy," the man said, as he and the woman slowly raised their hands above their head. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable."
"Slowly kneel down and sit on your hands," Mulder said.
"Okay, fine," the man said again, as they both slowly sank to their knees.
"Good. What do you want?" Mulder said a bit more calmly.
"My name is Joel and this is my wife Lauren. We were passing through, along that cliff about 50 yards back, and we saw your cabin in the distance. So we decided to check it out and see if anyone was here," Joel said slowly.
"How do I know you are really who you are?" Mulder said.
For a moment, neither one of the strangers said a word, and Mulder's pulse sped up.
traptraptraptrap.
Suddenly, Joel's eyes lit up. "I have a wound on my right arm from trying to sharpen my axe. I only did it the day before yesterday, so it may still be fresh enough to see the blood..."
"Blood?" Mulder interrupted, confused.
"I'm assuming you know about Their blood, if you can even call it blood. That's how we've been able to tell people from....well, Them." Joel concluded.
Realization dawned on Mulder, and a few embers of hope filled him as he turned to Scully. "Can you check it out?"
Slowly, Scully came around to face the couple and gave her gun to Mulder. She knelt down in front of Joel and reached for his arm.
"No funny moves, okay?" Mulder cautioned.
"Okay," Joel said nervously, as Scully lifted his arm away and pushed up his sleeve to reveal a long scrap of cloth and safety pin. She disconnected the pin and cautiously unrolled the cloth.
Sure enough, along Joel's inner arm, a long gash that was just beginning to scab over, still bloody in spots.
It was the best thing Mulder had seen in a long time.
Scully stood up and Mulder lowered his weapon. Joel and Lauren took this as a good sign and slowly stood, with their hands stuck out.
"As I said, my name is Joel, and this is my wife Lauren." he said as they shook hands. "We were passing through, and we saw your place, so we just thought we would take a chance, see if anyone....any humans, were home."
"Sorry for the, um...greeting," Scully said.
"We understand completely. This isn't the first time we've been greeted in such a manner," Lauren said. "You are the third couple to do so."
"There are others?" Mulder said.
"Yeah, about 14 of us." Lauren said. "We have a small settlement along the mountain side a few miles from here. The mountain, along with the cold temperatures and snow, has given us good cover from Them."
Mulder couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Others.
People.
Survivors.
Mulder hadn't given much thought to the fact that there could have been other survivors. Not because he didn't think that there was a possibility, but because the few times his mind wandered away from the walls of the cabin, it always went to a dark place that wasn't helpful to their situation.
He turned to Scully to see that her eyes reflected exactly what he was thinking.
Hope.
"It's a bit of a trek from here, but you both are more than welcome to come back to the settlement with us, check it out for yourselves, meet everyone," Joel offered.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Mulder smiled.
XXXXXX
songs that inspired:
Running From The Rain by Thursday
This Song is Brought To You By A Falling Bomb by Thursday
Red Sky by Thrice
Twenty-Two by Burns Out Bright
Jesus by Brand New
Flags of Dawn by Thrice
Ghost of You by MCR
**Warning: songs are either punk rock or modern rock,
so if that isn't your flavor, you may want to ignore the list**