My Truth

By Rina

Disclaimers: They belong to the almighty CC and 1013 (neither of them who do remotely what they should with them).

You can't see the stars in the city.

Not clearly, not the way I want to - hell, the way I need to at times. It's better in the country, better still in the middle of the fucking desert. Out there they look close enough to touch, to grab onto and throttle in a demand for answers. Shooting at them does no good, neither does screaming. I know, I've done it until I was hoarse.

And I probably will again.

I've known hell, puked it out of my eyes, nose and mouth while buried inside two tons of concrete left over from the Cold War. I've had it burn through my flesh, severing muscle and bone in the name of protecting me from the very thing I had gone in search of in the first place. I've seen it writhing beneath me, poised above me and standing before me, fists raised, on the verge of attack. Odd how the expression it wore at those times was similar. Love and hate, they are sometimes too close to tell apart.

I survived those hells, as well as the one that saw me in the cesspool of a prison in Tunisia. I know why I was there, but having my release secured through the same channels that put me there did come as a surprise. Just goes to show you that even I can still be caught unaware once in a while.

But this last hell, the one that I've endured for the past six months, beside it the others are nothing - less then nothing. Fucking Cancerman. He knew all along. I wish now that I had done him slower, but at the time the bunching of the muscles in my arm as I shoved his chair down the stairs was nirvana.

As I do to him I do to the world - yeah, right. Fucking nicotine bag would have said anything to save his life. I don't know what I would have done if he had offered the one thing I wanted. I like to think it wouldn't have changed my mind at all but I'm not going to pretend to be that noble

So many fucking questions, so few answers. I know more now then I ever did but why do I feel like it isn't enough, like it will never be enough? Maybe because the one question that means the most remains unanswered.

Resist or serve, the answer used to come without question. It didn't matter who they were, there was no way I was going to serve. Stupid shit that I was, I actually believed that. I was in it for me - hell, it got to the point where I had myself almost convinced of it. Now, if they offered me the one thing I want, what would I do?

The fate of the human race weighed against the life of one man. It's an easy choice, and one he'd probably hate me for, but then I've always been a selfish rat bastard. Not like it matters anyway. They have him, they aren't going to let go that easily.

So this is what it comes down to. By day I lie, cheat, steal, kill, whatever it takes to save this shithole called earth, but by night...

Grab a bottle of whatever is handy and head for an open space, any one will do. Stare at the stars, watching in vain for something, anything to let me know I've made the right choices.

Nothing ever comes of it except bleary eyes and monstrous hangovers, but I persist.

My truth is out there.

It has a name, Fox William Mulder.

And I will find it.

~end~

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