Work Text:
The End
by Ciejye
"That's it people, we have confirmation from the Director of the FBI on the missing agents, Assistant Director Walter Skinner, and Special Agents Fox Mulder, and Alex Krycek, everyone move. Lets find them people!"
On the seventh day before the end, man created darkness, and he liked the darkness, and he called the darkness security, and there was no evening and no morning on the seventh day before the End"
The deep darkness enveloped the man, causing a shudder to fill his body, as the blindfold covered his eyes. He turned his head right then left as he struggled to find a sign, a sense of where he was, where HE was. The blackness holding him in its grasp, both terrifying and comforting. Relieving distractions, not allowing him to find anything on which to focus. There was only the breath, hot and feral on his neck, and the voice that whisper raspy, "security".
Fear blossomed in his mind, his head turned from side to side, trying to see around the security, trying to know, what was going on. The time passed, as he counted his heartbeats, his breaths, wanting and needing to know how long. Time began to lose all meaning. And still, the darkness continued.
"We need to find them people, I shouldn't have to tell anyone how important these three men are to the FBI and how much they are needed back. They are a part of a special operation that threatens to destroy more than we are at liberty to say. (pause) We have a report, there was a sighting of the car the three were last seen in near the river. I want that car gone over with a fine tooth comb, YESTERDAY PEOPLE!!"
On the sixth day before the end, man created hate, and he liked the hate, and he called the hate comfort, and there was no evening and no morning on the sixth day before the End."
Fear had held him in its grips for too long, the pain holding him up, keeping him from having a way to escape. There was no way he could escape, none. He was still blindfolded, his arms and legs tied in ways that seemed to guarantee he could not get free. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, like a hard ball, then it flowed out from each part of him. Every fiber of his being began to hate. Every inch of his tortured back and buttox, every millimeter of the pain ridden thighs and calves screamed for him to simply fade to black.
But he did not fade to black, he could not. Instead he reached for the hate, and brought it closer, holding it to him as a father would a child. Caressing it like a lover, he held it to him, every stripe and strike, ever lash was endeared into his heart, and from them he found a new peace, one that was more than before, one that would hold him and keep him. He found the comfort.
"The next person who tells me they have looked everywhere I AM GOING TO SHOOT THEM!! There is no such thing as looking everywhere, UNLESS THEY HAVE BEEN FOUND!! (pause) We have a sighting, north of the state line, just east of the river, three teams check it out, do this BY THE NUMBERS!"
On the fifth day before the end, man said "let us create guns and weapons for there is this thing called peace and its disturbing our comfort and security " and there was no evening and no morning on the fifth day before the End"
The hate filled him fuller than anything had ever done. It was like a warm blanket that held him even as the blackness did. He could hear the movements around him, the slow measured pace, the distinct whiff of the scent of something, something evil. Something diseased and not quite right. A metallic smell came right after, a moment later the cold feeling of the metal pressed up against his right cheek, the scent became sharper as he realized it was the barrel of a gun, pressing into his cheek, harsh and cold, so cold. A disembodied voice whispered into his ear, the breath foul. "Peace be with you." The barrel was lifted, and came down a moment later sharply, breaking his cheek bone, and filling his head with pain. Fox came so close to passing out, to finding peace. He teetered on the edge of the tunnel of peace, his mind trying to spiral down, slowly.
A second later a sharp blade pressed into his flesh, taking a bit, bringing him back form the brink of the peace, a sharp reminder of the comfort and security that filled him. The pain bloomed against him, he felt the sticky wetness as the blood flowed over his chest from the cut. He grasped the sharp stinging pain and held it to him, his mind focusing only on that as he took several deep breaths, drawing in the fettered air, and all that it promised.
"I want a full surveillance report, every moment of the men in there, phone logs, mail, neighbors, I want to know what has transpired in the last few days. (pause) do not give me that. There IS a way to see though those walls, FIND IT!! (pause) I want the other units here ASAP, call in everyone you can find, off or on duty."
On the fourth day before the end, man said "let us create drugs and other forms of escape for there is this thing called reality and its disturbing our comfort and security," and there was no evening and no morning on the fourth day before the End"
The burning pain stopped for a brief moment, it left him gasping, the tears flowing down his face. The pain from the shattered cheekbone remained, keeping its silent vigil. His body shook like a leaf in the wind from the beating. The voice was back and with it the breath of rot and decay. "reality boy, reality with each blow." He tried to find the blackness in his mind, to slip into the darkness that would bring the peace again. But the blows started again, each one driving into him, bringing him back again from the peace, filling him with the reality that this pain would not end.
As he shuttered in the pain, a new sensation filled him, a brief sting then a warm burn, his body shivered at the new pain, a moment later his mind stepped back from the reality, wafting now in a semi flux state, the colors never found in reality and nature, filled his mind, and sang to his soul, the hatred was there still, and the security, they walked hand in hand on the beach of his mind, basking in the warm light created by the substance that filled his body.
"KEVLAR people, everyone wears it. I will PERSONALLY rip a new one to ANY agent not wearing their vest in this!! I want two teams around back, go in silent. Two more on either side. BE CAREFUL of that clearing, and STAY LOW. We are going to try negotiating first. So no one get itchy. Sharpshooters, find your best vantage points and see if you can get a shot, we may have to go that way. Stay low people, I don't want to lose anyone else."
On the third day before the end, man said "let us create rockets and missiles to reach into the heavens and destroy any world that might try and disturb our comfort and security," and there was no evening and no morning on the third day before the End"
The knife sliced into his flesh again, but the pain was not able to bring him back this time. The drug that filled him blossomed and filled his head with colors more striking than fireworks, the tastes and smells sharpened. He could see the things that happened around him, the sounds that took shape, surreal and haunting. He could taste the sounds and hear the smells. He could hear the talking, the words didn't make sense. They were only words. Only words.
The explosion of the hand grenade filled the air and shook the ground, the sound slapping him like a blow, in his augmented condition. A second blow came, this time more real, it shook the place he was in, throwing him to his knees, his body slamming against the wall. He tasted the arid smoke and heard the hooosh of the bazooka as it sent its projectile out into the surrounding area.
"RUN!!! Get out of there! Move that vehicle! Get those civilians back! INCOMING!!!!!! (pause) We need EMTs here now, HOLD YOUR FIRE THERE MAY BE FEDERAL AGENTS INSIDE!! The next person who fires without a CLEAR target will be on background checks and surveillance tapes for the REST OF THEIR MISERABLE LIVES! (pause) FIRE FIRE don't let ... FIRE!"
On the second day before the end, man said "let us create ovens and furnaces, so we may kill our friends our neighbors and our brothers more quickly and more thoroughly," and there was no evening and no morning on the second day before the End,"
The heat of the fire created by the bombs and grenades baked his face, highlighting the wounds, flickering off the contours of the raw flesh, enumerating the bruises that decorated him. The taste of arid smoke burned his throat, his eyes stung from the thick cloud that had worked its way under his blindfold. He was used to the darkness, and the security that he found there, so peaceful and calm. The ball of hate filling him still, he clung to it like a life-preserver.
A savage kick to his ribs reminded him of where he was. The second created a new reality in pain for him. The third kick propelled him into the wall, he could feel the fire though it, the heat singeing his flesh. He wanted only to find the peace again, the comfort of oblivion. Never had he felt so alone, so out of touch with anyone in his life. He struggled away from the wall and felt the heat lessening.
The sounds gunfire filled his senses, he could hear the rapid exchange and instinctively moved down lower. Trying to make himself less of a target, though he was not sure if he shouldn't try and become one, to end all of this. He took a breath as he listened to the volleys, and felt the heat of the fire coming closer, closer with every moment, his side towards the wall, he felt baked and hot. He wanted to scream as he felt the skin start to burn and blister.
The voice came soft, almost a whisper but was strong enough to be carried though the smoky light. "I did all I could to keep him from the worse of it. It wasn't enough, it just wasn't enough." Soft choking sobs filled the air, the kind of sobs that came from a grief born from a lifetime of love and compassion.
On the last day before the end, man said "let us create God in our own image, to hate as we hate and kill as we kill", and there was no evening and no morning on the last day before the End
The broken, battered, bloody body of the man was placed on the stretcher, his face almost unrecognizable, from the brutality he had endured. His head was turned to the left slightly to keep the worst of the burned area from touching the sheet. His lips were parched and cracked after days with no water. And split in several places. His once proud fine nose was broken, mashed almost flat to his face, that and the shattered cheekbone gave his face a squashed look. Tubes ran into his body, placed there in an attempt to stave off the inevitable.
"He saved us both." came the choked words. "He took the worse of it on himself until they ... they took him away. And did ... this." The emotions ran deep, sobbing for the fallen.
The area looked like a war zone, but then that is what this had been, a war, the good guys against the bad. Quietly, into the ambulance, was placed the last casualty of that war.
"Ashes to ashes and dust to dust..."
"... were defeated, and laid to rest, the situation has been defused, and will likely not resurface for years if ever. Commendations are in line for everyone involved. Anyone who wishes to attend the memorial service has leave to do so. (pause) Everyone bow your heads in a moment of silence for the fallen."
Tears fell unabashed.
In the End, man had killed himself, and all around him, .and God looked at his world, that which was once beautiful, and he cried
the End
or is it?
========
The Poem: The End
On the seventh day before the end, man created darkness, and he liked the darkness, and he called the darkness security, and there was no evening and no morning on the seventh day before the End"
On the sixth day before the end, man created hate, and he liked the hate, and he called the hate comfort, and there was no evening and no morning on the sixth day before the End."
On the fifth day before the end, man said "let us create guns and weapons for there is this thing called peace and its disturbing our comfort and security " and there was no evening and no morning on the fifth day before the End"
On the fourth day before the end, man said "let us create drugs and other forms of escape for there is this thing called reality and its disturbing our comfort and security," and there was no evening and no morning on the fourth day before the End"
On the third day before the end, man said "let us create rockets and missiles to reach into the heavens and destroy any world that might try and disturb our comfort and security," and there was no evening and no morning on the third day before the End"
On the second day before the end, man said "let us create ovens and furnaces, so we may kill our friends our neighbors and our brothers more quickly and more thoroughly," and there was no evening and no morning on the second day before the End,"
On the last day before the end, man said "let us create God in our own image, to hate as we hate and kill as we kill", and there was no evening and no morning on the last day before the End"
In the End, man had killed himself, and all around him, .and God looked at his world, that which was once beautiful, and he cried
the End