sometimes i get the very strong urge to write a comes back ??? fic for bakugou but the more i think about it, the more i realize how emotionally taxing and honestly horrifying it would be.
you and bakugou spend a few years in that weird will-they-won't-they stage before you officially start seeing each other seriously, and then it takes some time to adjust to having a pro-hero for a partner — so it's not always easy. until the time goes by and you have a break up scare or two and things finally level out, and you figure out how to talk to each other and you fall into the beautifully warm comfort of just being together, in love.
and then he fucking dies. in a heart-explodey, blind-in-one-eye kind of way.
the two years that follow are just — time passing, like pages in a chapter you can't understand the words to. you know grief in a way you never could have comprehended before, you wonder what it's all for and how you'll go on. you're angry at him for sacrificing his stupid life and angry at the world for taking him from you, but you're so deeply, down to your bones, heartbroken over losing him.
and you're not the only one; more than any of his friends that you see, deku is the one who is there for you the most. calls you daily and pulls you out of bed, makes sure you eat because he knows that's what kacchan would want. lovingly flings out a few gruff insults that make you laugh until you're both crying in your kitchen. it means something, maybe, that you both can just mourn in the presence of one another, without judgement or care.
your relationship gets a little — dependent. not romantic, at least not for you, but it's like you need the other person for the bits of bakugou they hold that you don't. the memories and the laughs and the bad times as well as the good. the secrets katsuki would never tell you, and the tenderness izuku was never shown.
it never gets easier. every day is just another day. if you think about it for too long, it all comes crumbling down. you're almost having to disassociate through your life just to make it, and that's hard when the whole city mourns him, too. but you do it. every single day, even on the worst of them.
izuku calls you a little more than two years after, in the middle of the night.
sounding way too awake and out of breathe, though you don't think that's necessarily out of the ordinary, considering his profession. he's a very hyper-fixation kind of guy; you can only imagine what hobby he's picked up and also mastered in the last 48 hours.
he asks if he can come pick you up from your apartment because he "needs to show you something important" and you agree, even if it doesn't feel like it usually does, when the nights are long and you both need someone to talk to. this feels — urgent. a bit worrisome.
you don't know where he takes you, but he's quiet the whole way there. in an old sweater, hair mussed, bags under his eyes like he really hasn't slept in the last 48 hours.
("stupid flighty fucker," katsuki would say, sometimes, when the weight of the world was weighing too heavily on the number one hero's shoulders, and even if he would huff and puff and grit his teeth, you'd notice him checking his phone more often than usual. taking every phone call that came without hesitation.)
you almost want to tell izuku that, in the car, because that's what you do, that's how you've kept him alive between the two of you; kacchan would make a point to tell you that's not how generators work, in the shitty horror film you and deku go see, that kacchan wouldn't dare sit through.
("no, he would," you argue, solemn as the lights in the theater warm back to life, as it empties. "he would."
and after a long, heavy beat, izuku would agree. "yeah. he would.")
izuku brings you somewhere that's too clinical to be as quiet and as dark as it is: inside, the walls and floors are sterile with anti-septic but the lights are off, in every hallway. the only visibility comes from a small lamp that's in a lobby of sorts, and there is a small handful of people you don't know, at all, already there. waiting.
you say his name in a small, concerned question, and when he takes both his hands in yours, they're warm and too wide and sweaty. his eyes glow, but in a way you don't recognize. everything he says to you is — gibberish, a mish-mash of worry and half-sentences and all the warning bells are going off in your head.
"y-you can't freak out, okay? you have to—i can explain all this when...when the time is right."
"you said that you would give anything to have kacchan back, remember? you said—you would do anything."
"i know this sounds—i know how this sounds, okay? but nothing is impossible!"
"i just need you to trust me."
and up until now, you had no reason not to. but you're not sure when he slept last, or even when he ate last, or why he's muttering things about his quirk, how he and katsuki are connected somehow, in ways he's not able to explain.
or why you can faintly hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor just beyond the only closer door in this wing of the hospital.
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the biggest thing about elegy is that it takes all of that unspoken isolation of this arc, and it slowly lets the audience in. the first thing that mulder says about the apparitions, is that they seem to be an "omen." an impending prophecy. and carefully, throughout the episode, both the audience and scully are waiting to see, not who the killer is, but what is being foretold. when they're going over records, and scully's nose starts bleeding, it's the one thing that they can't ignore. she wasn't even there in the previous episode. she was in the hospital. alone. they don't talk about it. she's "fine." she has "always been the strong one." just like in irresistible, years earlier, she does not want him to know how much she is struggling. but she doesn't have any control. it is dripping out of her. the sound of his voice when he says "oh, scully." and how quickly she responds "it's okay. i'm fine."
it's that kind of childlike grimace in him, the same man who flinches away from dead bodies and stares at the ground before his father. and she's so fast to try to restore order. it's okay. i'm fine. don't worry, i'll clean it up. i'll make it go away. when she disappears into the bathroom and sees an apparition there herself...i think she decides to go to the hospital because she just needs space, honestly. she's scared. he offers to drive her, to go with her, twice. asks, "you sure?" and she says, twice, "i'm fine."
elegy builds to two separate climaxes: the first, when mulder comes to scully's apartment. but before that, we see scully in karen kosseff's office, the same therapist that she had gone to in irresistible, and presumably has kept a relationship with in the years since. she tells karen that she's been diagnosed with inoperable untreatable cancer, and when karen asks, "you've kept working?" she answers, "yes. it's been important to me."
she's taken aback when karen asks why, is surprised at the question, and tells her "agent mulder has been concerned. he's been supportive, through this time."
KOSSEFF: Do you feel that you owe it to him to continue working?
SCULLY: (quickly) No. (pauses) I guess I never realized how much I rely on him before this...his passion...he's been a great source of strength that I've drawn on.
KOSSEFF: What happened last night, Dana?
SCULLY: I saw something. I, I don't know what to trust. If I saw it because of the stress, because the image had been suggested to me or if it was a suggestion of my own fears.
KOSSEFF: Your fear of failing him?
SCULLY: (exhales emotionally) Maybe.
this is such a rare admission from scully. first of all, she's being confronted. this is not normal. it is not normal to work to your death. it's like bill tells her, a couple of episodes later, "what are you doing at work, getting knocked down, beaten up? what are you trying to prove?"
(she hadn't even told bill about her cancer. she'd been sick for months. she thought she was going to die in memento mori, she knows she's going to die sooner than later. and she instructed her mom not to tell her brother. from the moment that mulder said "i refuse to believe that," it really was only going to go one way.)
she's being confronted. why are you working? (for mulder). do you feel you owe him? (no, i need him).
she's really alone. she's sick. like, she's really sick. she spent the last case in the hospital. she's having a hard time keeping up. she's thinning, and bleeding, and struggling. but there she goes, every day, at every hour. monster chasing. telling him she's fine.
(so much conflict comes from the way that mulder's ignorance perfectly enables scully's repression)
when he shows up, late, at her apartment, he comes in a mile-a-minute, about how he needs her "help" on the case, before asking her what her doctor said. (her answer, of course, being, "i'm fine.")
he tells her that everyone who has seen an apparition, was dying. every person who reported a premonition, was near death themselves.
SCULLY: Harold Spuller is dying too?
MULDER: Well, that's what I need your medical opinion on.
SCULLY: Well, what if he isn't?
MULDER: I would be very surprised. What is a death omen if not a vision of our own mortality? And who among us would most likely be able to see the dead?
this is one of the most hauntingly isolating moments of the series...he has just told her that she is going to die. and he doesn't know, that that's what he said. she is forced to process it, completely by herself. and she doesn't believe in ghosts, or "premonitions," but she knows that he is right. (when is he not?)
("maybe harold is sicker than we thought he was.")
the second moment that this episode builds to, is the final confrontation between mulder and scully. after the murder is solved. after harold dies.
SCULLY: I saw something, Mulder.
MULDER: What?
SCULLY: The fourth victim. I saw her in the bathroom before you came to tell me.
MULDER: Why didn't you tell me?
SCULLY: Because I didn't want to believe it. Because I don't want to believe it.
MULDER: Is that why you came down here, to prove that it wasn't true?
SCULLY: No, I came down here because you asked me to.
MULDER: Why can't you be honest with me?
SCULLY: (defensively) What do you want me to say? That you're right, that, that I believe it even if I don't? I mean, is that what you want?
MULDER: Is that what you think I want to hear?
SCULLY: (softly) No.
they come really...close here? to talking about it? she almost baits him several times this season. she spends so much of this arc thinking...maybe, this will be it. maybe if she fucks off on assignment, gets a tattoo with another man, he'll say it. maybe if she calls him out for never celebrating her birthday, he'll acknowledge why this is the year he did. maybe if they spend a friday night with a bottle of wine, they'll talk. maybe if she tells him, those things you believe are death omens? i saw it. he'll know.
i can't remember which one of you said that all of their arguments are just how to love each other. she doesn't want to believe. but she's there, because he has asked her to be. even in all of their repressed denial, there is no escaping what's happening. it hangs over both of them.
i love the moments in this arc where she just snaps. in this scene when she says, what do you want from me? do you want me to just believe you? and her quiet resignation, when he makes her answer her own question. no. she knows that's not what he wants.
MULDER: (his voice softens) I know what you're afraid of. I'm afraid of the same thing.
SCULLY: The doctor said I was fine.
MULDER: I hope that's the truth.
SCULLY: (whispers) I'm going home.
"i know what you're afraid of. i'm afraid of the same thing."
except, no, he doesn't. and no, they are not.
but she knows what he's afraid of, just as her therapist had known what she's afraid of ("your fear of failing him?") and so she dodges his admittance with reassurance. she's fine.
that last scene, when she goes out and cries in her car, and she sees harold's ghost in the backseat. she is so alone. she's working on her deathbed. they don't talk about it. she's afraid, and she's not fine, and she is going to "fail" him because she cannot keep herself alive for him, and she can't avoid it. it's in the backseat. it's in the bathroom mirror. it's bleeding out of her.
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