GLWG: Here's Mud in Your Eye 1/1

by Tracey Berrios

This is a brief essay, insipred by a clip from The Pine Bluff Variant,  so mercifully provided by a friend. Thank you, Shelly. This is my take on what thoughts might be running through Mulder’s mind, while he’s on his knees, waiting for that bullet.

Disclaimer: You know the deal. Mulder isn’t mine.  He never was, never will be. He is the sole property of  1013. I’m just borrowing him for a bit. I promise to give him back alive...that’s all I promise.

“On your knees.”

Ground’s cold. Muddy. It’s seeping through the legs of my jeans. If they dry this way, it’ll be almost impossible to get all the mud out. Jesus...so what?

This isn’t the way I imagined I’d go out. I mean, I never thought for a second that I’d die an old man, warm in my bed, but this? To be found face down in the mud with a bullet through the back of my head...maybe I won’t be found at all. Maybe...nah. They’ll want Scully to know. I wish he’d let me face him, at least. I think I’d rather see it coming.

Wonder what it’ll feel like? I’ve been shot before and it hurt like hell, but ...

I can feel him behind me. If I close my eyes and concentrate, I bet I can tell when he raises his arm. No. Eyes open. I will not go down with my eyes closed.

I can hear him breathing...smell it. Acrid. Sickening. Like stale beer and garlic. Probably from last night’s dinner. Someone really should have a talk with this guy about proper oral hygene.

Scully will have to ID my body....Scully. How did we get to where we are? You’ve been so distant the last year. Maybe I haven’t always done or said the right thing, but I never wanted this...this wall that seems to pop up between us so often. I didn’t know how to break it down, or even if I should. Will you miss me when I’m gone? Will you continue the work or will you close up shop as fast as you can and gooff to Quantico to teach? Really doesn’t matter anymore, I suppose.

I can feel the muzzle of the gun pointed at my head. It’s not touching me, but I can feel it’s proximity. I feel like I should pray or something. Would it make me a hypocrite if I did? Would He listen to the prayers of a man with no religion and a shattered faith? Maybe. I don’t know.

Click. Safety release. Well, goodbye world. Wish I could say that you and I were better friends. I wish I’d accomplished...something. I wish so many........

God.....shattering pain. Warmth oozing down my face. Blood. So much pain. Why am I not dead? Quiet. It’s so quiet. No. Footsteps. Heavy. A hand on my neck. Get ready for another shot......nothing. Shit. Who’s turning me over? It hurts. Open your eyes.What? Two figures. In the mud. Bodies? Then who.....you. What is it with you? What.........

“What the hell went on, here? Hey Nick, this guy is alive. Gun shot wound to the side of the head. It’s hard to tell how bad it is through all this blood....where’d this jacket came from?”

“Looks like it came from one of the two dead guys over there.”

“Shoot him then cover him to keep him warm? Doesn’t make much sense. And who the hell shot them? He’s got no weapon.”

“Maybe the same person who covered him up. Paramedics are here.”

“No, not them! This is the only one alive."

“Okay thanks, we got it. He’s lucky that there was someone around. You got the witness?”

“No. There was no one on the scene when we got here...no one standing, anyway.”

“Hey, Ron! Look what I found on one of them. It’s his ID. We got a fed, here.”

“What?”

“Special Agent Fox Mulder. FBI, my friend.”

"I can't stop the bleeding..."

“Christ. Come on guys, hurry up and get him the hell out of here.”

“Pulse is becoming erratic. He's deteriorating. Jack, we gotta go. We can work on him in the ambulance."

"Give us a hand, guys.....on three. One...two...okay, we're out of here."

"We'll meet you at the hospital."

"Geez Ron, what the hell is an FBI agent doing out here, alone and unarmed?"

"Only he knows the answer to that one. Hope he lives to tell the story."