The Wall
by Trillian
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The city is soft tonight, Mulder.  The afternoon's thunderstorm has left
the world muted; the streets, the trees slightly blurred.  Strange how
such an angry act leaves in its wake this peacefulness.  It is almost
surreal, the way the lights and sky are blending together.  I can't quite
find the horizon.

I have been walking many hours, through territories new and familiar.  And
I have ended here.  The wall in front of me, so striking in its
simplicity, leaves me breathless.  I feel a tear in my throat, but cannot,
will not cry.  The wall deserves more respect, more dignity than that.

I shake suddenly, and feel the warmth flow from my nose.  I double over
with pain, and watch my blood pour onto the rosebush in front of me.  The
red spreads slowly over the blossom until the white petals are completely
obfuscated.  Slowly, it recedes, and I stand.  Suddenly revulsed, I turn
away from the stained flower.

I have come here for a farewell.  I know you will not be here, but you
will come soon enough.  I have seen it before.  You will stand here alone,
after the finding, and you will remember.

And I pray you will hope.  For I have finished my work here.  You must
continue alone.  I have found my truth already.  I will watch until you
find yours.

I pluck the bloodstained rose, and carry it to the river.  I lay down
carefully on my back, my hand wrapped tightly around the stem.  The thorns
no longer bother me.

The North star hangs above me, and I can hear Ahab calling.

Mulder, I have found the peace.  It is no longer with you.  I am tired
now, exhausted of all possibilities.  I have no convicition left.  It is
time to sleep.

There is nothing here divine.  Only finality, purity, clarity.  And as I
close my eyes, I see your face.  Your eyes are seeing things I cannot even
dream.

Q.E.D.