TITLE: One Sorry Son of a Bitch AUTHOR: Brandon D. Ray EMAIL ADDRESS: publius@avalon.net DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name stays on it and no money changes hands. FEEDBACK: Oh, hell yes.... Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net SPOILER WARNING: One Breath; Memento Mori; Redux II RATING: PG CONTENT WARNING: MSR or M/S friendship; should be safe for Shipper and non-Shipper alike. CLASSIFICATION: VA SUMMARY: Let's rewrite the scene where Scully's brother confronts Mulder in the hospital hallway, shall we? DEDICATION: To Helen Wills, from whom I stole the title for this piece. You really ought to check out her story, by the same title. It's archived on Gossamer, and it's really cool. Hi, Helen! :) DISCLAIMER: Nope, I do not own these characters or situations. If I were THAT smart, I would be rich. One Sorry Son of a Bitch by Brandon D. Ray He sat in the hallway all by himself, his head in his hands. He'd done everything he could, everything he could think of, but it wasn't doing any good, none of it was helping. She was still slipping away from him, hour by hour moving farther into the darkness and away from the light. She was dying. Had he really expected that chip to be magic? Could he have really been that desperate, to pin all his hopes on a small piece of silicon? Had he really believed that black lunged son of a bitch? He shook his head. She was dying, and it was all his fault. A shadow fell across him, and after a moment Mulder looked up. It was her brother. Mulder tried to think of something to say to the man, but nothing came, and finally he dropped his eyes again. The other man spoke. "Has it been worth it? Have you found what you've been looking for?" Mulder looked up again and searched Charlie's face. Very softly: "No." Charlie stood quietly for a moment just looking down at him. He seemed reserved, remote, and Mulder's mind flashed back to the argument of a few hours ago; the argument about the chip. <> he thought. <> But even as he thought the words he knew himself to be a bastard. Scully was the one who was dying, and here he was whining about a few harsh words. To his surprise, Charlie nodded, then sighed and sat down on the bench next to him. For a few minutes the two men simply sat together, carefully not looking at each other. Finally, Charlie said, "I understand you've lost people, too." Pause. "It's hard, isn't it." It wasn't quite a question, but Mulder answered it anyway. "Yes. Yes, it is. And it's all my responsibility. It's all because of this thing I'm looking for." Charlie turned his head and looked at Mulder curiously. "You really believe that?" Mulder shrugged. "Sure. Who else is there to blame?" The other man gazed at him speculatively for a moment, then shook his head. "That's not a good enough reason." And then he looked away, and they were quiet again for awhile. Mulder thought about Charlie's remark for a few minutes. It almost seemed as if the other man was saying that Mulder wasn't to blame for all of this -- but that was impossible. There really wasn't anyone else to hold responsible, and Mulder knew it. And he also knew that he was neither needed nor welcome here. Scully had her mother and her brother, and she had her priest. Family and faith. What did he have to offer that could compete with that? "I guess I should be going," he said, and rose to his feet and started to walk away. "Mulder!" Mulder stopped in his tracks, and after a moment he turned to see that Charlie had got to his feet and was rapidly striding towards him, a look of anger on his face. "Just where in the hell do you think you're going?" the other man asked. Mulder backed away a few steps and shrugged. "I don't know." He gestured vaguely. "Out. I thought -- I thought you would want that. I thought Scul -- Dana would want some time alone with her family." Charlie stared at him for a long moment, and finally shook his head again. "You're not serious, are you?" he demanded, his voice still laced with anger. Mulder couldn't think of anything to say, and so he remained silent. Charlie took another step closer. "Mulder, Dana is dying. Dying. And right now she needs all the support she can get. I can't believe you're actually going to walk away from her at a time like this!" "Charlie, I -- " "No!" said the other man. "No, Mulder. No bullshit. Not now. Any fool can see how much you two care for each other. And if you can walk away from her now, knowing how much she needs you, then you're one sorry son of a bitch." He fell silent and for a moment he simply stood there, glaring at Mulder. Then suddenly the younger man's anger seemed to dissipate, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said...that last thing." He took another step forward, and laid a hand on Mulder's shoulder and stared intently into his eyes, and Mulder was shocked to see tears forming. "Mulder," Charlie, said, his voice cracking slightly, "she really does need you. I've been talking to her all afternoon, and I KNOW. Don't leave her. Go to her. Be there for her." Pause. "Only love can save her now." Mulder stared at the other man, barely breathing, and suddenly he remembered another time, long ago, when Scully had lay dying in a hospital bed, and Melissa had come to him at the moment of crisis and persuaded him to turn away from the darkness, and help guide Scully back to the light. A lot had changed since then; a lot had been lost. But maybe, just maybe, it could happen again. He reached up and briefly squeezed Charlie's hand where it still lay on his shoulder, and nodded. Very softly, he said, "Come on, Charlie. Let's do it together." And the two men turned and headed back down the hall, side by side. Fini