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double drabble: Carrying a stone in each eye
day late and a dollar short, but here's an X-Files double drabble.
Carrying a stone in each eye
Mulder & Lucy Householder, during the cancer arc
ghosts, soup, and grief
Summary: Lucy looks at him with dark eyes. "Don't be a dick. She's the one with cancer."
200 words, general
“My partner has cancer,” Mulder tells Lucy Householder. She's sitting next to him at his kitchen table, pale yellow soup in a white china bowl. She doesn't have a spoon. “Yeah?” she says, flat and brittle. “Sucks to be her.”
He puts his head down on the hard scarred surface, so damn tired he could weep, looks up and sideways at her. “I don't know what to do,” he says. The words drop out of him one by one, and he thinks of Scully's blood on typed-up paperwork. What's black and white and red all over, Scully?
Lucy looks at him with dark eyes. “Don't be a dick. She's the one with cancer.”
He sits up, spreads his hands in stupid helplessness. “So I'm just supposed to fucking watch?”
“Witness,” Lucy says, curling her fingers around his, folding his hands back into acquiescence with her own. Her dirty blonde hair falls over her eyes, but she doesn't let go to brush it back. The bitter twist to her mouth changes a little, turns into something like a smile, and Mulder sits in his kitchen late at night, holding hands with his whispering ghosts and trying to believe that it's enough.
or read at the AO3
Carrying a stone in each eye
Mulder & Lucy Householder, during the cancer arc
ghosts, soup, and grief
Summary: Lucy looks at him with dark eyes. "Don't be a dick. She's the one with cancer."
200 words, general
“My partner has cancer,” Mulder tells Lucy Householder. She's sitting next to him at his kitchen table, pale yellow soup in a white china bowl. She doesn't have a spoon. “Yeah?” she says, flat and brittle. “Sucks to be her.”
He puts his head down on the hard scarred surface, so damn tired he could weep, looks up and sideways at her. “I don't know what to do,” he says. The words drop out of him one by one, and he thinks of Scully's blood on typed-up paperwork. What's black and white and red all over, Scully?
Lucy looks at him with dark eyes. “Don't be a dick. She's the one with cancer.”
He sits up, spreads his hands in stupid helplessness. “So I'm just supposed to fucking watch?”
“Witness,” Lucy says, curling her fingers around his, folding his hands back into acquiescence with her own. Her dirty blonde hair falls over her eyes, but she doesn't let go to brush it back. The bitter twist to her mouth changes a little, turns into something like a smile, and Mulder sits in his kitchen late at night, holding hands with his whispering ghosts and trying to believe that it's enough.
or read at the AO3