"Noir" // The X-Files
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Word Count: 952
Spoilers: None
Summary: During one sleepless night, Mulder and Scully find each other
in the dark.
"Noir"
Written as Kelida Flynn (circa 1997!)
Thanks: Thank you to Susan for her astute, insightful, and extremely
helpful beta-reading. I would be two verbs short of a bakers dozen
without you.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the X-Files are the
property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting and Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright
infringement is intended, nor are the characters being used for
commercial purposes. Blah, blah.....did I say blah?
--------
Noir
"Do you believe in the afterlife?"
"I'd settle for a life in this one."
-Mulder to Scully in "Shadows"
There are lights flickering through the thin curtains. In here though
they appear subdued and soft, but outside-- they are creatures,
primitive, rough--almost wild. They are harsh in order to cut through
the night and break the black because their creators are frightened by
the darkness. In a world where there is so much to fear, men revert to
their primal instincts because that is what they know. I can't blame
them.
Light and dark are contrasting forces that co-exist, though not
necessarily in balance with each other. I try to search for the light
because I live in a dark world, a dark existence. I see each ray as a
spark of hope, a morsel to be savored, sometimes--devoured. The
X-files. They have consumed me, and I have consumed them. And then
there is Scully. Sometimes--lately--it feels like she's all I have
left. . .and I take so much of her, there isn't much left for herself.
It is another sleepless night in another non-descript city. Not
unusual.
I am thinking of her.
Not so strange. Never strange. I need sweet dreams whether or not I am awake. Reality would drive me mad if I didn't have fantasies to keep me sane.
I wonder how she sleeps tonight. When we parted, she looked
worn--tired, ragged. These last few cases have been tearing at her.
They're beginning to drain her of her strength that makes her *Scully*.
The color in her eyes are fading somewhat, a mundane shade of blue-gray. I can see she's beginning to lose some faith--in herself--in me. I also know that it is partially my fault. I push too hard, and sometimes she can't help but be pulled along, but I don't want to push her aside. I do that often enough and all it accomplishes is driving the rift between us further and further apart. I need her by my side if I have any hopes of ever making it through this life. I'm selfish. I need her strength, her faith.
I need her.
Tonight there is a knock at my door. Not urgent, but gentle. Asking.
It can be no other, and I am not one to refuse her entrance.
She stops for a moment after entering. The door closes with a soft
thud, a faint gasp of air as it shuts.
"What are you doing up, Scully?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
She draws nearer and now stands behind me. My face is to the window.
Her arms circle my chest, her cheek on the curve of my back. Her heat
warms my chill.
"I almost lost you again today, Mulder." Her finger touches the spot
above my left eye where I was grazed by a bullet.
I smile weakly, fending off a wince of pain. "It was nothing a little
iodine and gauze couldn't handle."
"It's never *nothing*, Mulder."
I take her hand from my forehead and guide it to my lips. Her
fingertips trace around the corner of my mouth, the faint friction of
the touch causing me to shake.
"Mulder. How many times do you need to be shot at before. . ." She
stops and turns her head away. Still holding hands we sit together on
the mattress. Silent. Now, she is somehow in my arms. I begin to let
myself fall into her. She's mine--no, no, that's not right. She's not
mine, or anybody else's. She belongs to no one but herself. I'm the
one that belongs to her. I always have. I wouldn't want it any other
way.
Suddenly, a kiss. A kiss. A prayer. A rejuvenation of a dying heart.
A life restored and a destiny fulfilled in a simple touch. Her lips
sliding onto mine. She tastes like ambrosia. She feels like heaven.
But she draws away from me then as though some great wrong has
transpired. She murmurs an apology, but I'm not going to take it
because simply, I know that it was right. It felt right and good and
natural.
Here now, we are black and gray. Not so simple, yet not so complex.
Spread raw before each other now, we are more ourselves without our
inhibitions. I kiss her now. A handful of peppermint stars. A taste
of vanilla moon. Drunk on the evening dew we try to feel again. We are
groping in the dark, begging to be found.
She is restless as am I. We are both wanderers seeking refuge in each
other, filling in the missing pieces. Tonight I find the sphere that is
her love and absorb her passions and desires into mine. It is a fiery
concoction that fills me and it is agony in its pleasure.
Her sigh is now on my lips. I feel the burn of passion in her hands.
She runs them across my eyelids gently. Then I feel her hands caressing
my face, my neck, sliding down, down, her tension apparent, ready to
explode. There is desire in each breath, and there is longing in our
eyes that seeks the love that has always been scorched in our souls.
The loneliness, the numbness leaves me now. I feel her relax against
me. The pulse of her heart quick against my chest slowing down into a
deep throb. Our bodies mesh and our spirits are set free afloat upon
the misty rays of neons--blue, green, purple--a mellow dream. Then red,
yellow orange--our skin ablaze in release. Then darkness. Only her and
I.
We are silhouettes in the moonlight. Angels swimming in the dark.
Tonight we step on silk webs, and dance in each other's arms through the
many shades of black.
[[The End]]
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Word Count: 952
Spoilers: None
Summary: During one sleepless night, Mulder and Scully find each other
in the dark.
"Noir"
Written as Kelida Flynn (circa 1997!)
Thanks: Thank you to Susan for her astute, insightful, and extremely
helpful beta-reading. I would be two verbs short of a bakers dozen
without you.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the X-Files are the
property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting and Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright
infringement is intended, nor are the characters being used for
commercial purposes. Blah, blah.....did I say blah?
--------
Noir
"Do you believe in the afterlife?"
"I'd settle for a life in this one."
-Mulder to Scully in "Shadows"
There are lights flickering through the thin curtains. In here though
they appear subdued and soft, but outside-- they are creatures,
primitive, rough--almost wild. They are harsh in order to cut through
the night and break the black because their creators are frightened by
the darkness. In a world where there is so much to fear, men revert to
their primal instincts because that is what they know. I can't blame
them.
Light and dark are contrasting forces that co-exist, though not
necessarily in balance with each other. I try to search for the light
because I live in a dark world, a dark existence. I see each ray as a
spark of hope, a morsel to be savored, sometimes--devoured. The
X-files. They have consumed me, and I have consumed them. And then
there is Scully. Sometimes--lately--it feels like she's all I have
left. . .and I take so much of her, there isn't much left for herself.
It is another sleepless night in another non-descript city. Not
unusual.
I am thinking of her.
Not so strange. Never strange. I need sweet dreams whether or not I am awake. Reality would drive me mad if I didn't have fantasies to keep me sane.
I wonder how she sleeps tonight. When we parted, she looked
worn--tired, ragged. These last few cases have been tearing at her.
They're beginning to drain her of her strength that makes her *Scully*.
The color in her eyes are fading somewhat, a mundane shade of blue-gray. I can see she's beginning to lose some faith--in herself--in me. I also know that it is partially my fault. I push too hard, and sometimes she can't help but be pulled along, but I don't want to push her aside. I do that often enough and all it accomplishes is driving the rift between us further and further apart. I need her by my side if I have any hopes of ever making it through this life. I'm selfish. I need her strength, her faith.
I need her.
Tonight there is a knock at my door. Not urgent, but gentle. Asking.
It can be no other, and I am not one to refuse her entrance.
She stops for a moment after entering. The door closes with a soft
thud, a faint gasp of air as it shuts.
"What are you doing up, Scully?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
She draws nearer and now stands behind me. My face is to the window.
Her arms circle my chest, her cheek on the curve of my back. Her heat
warms my chill.
"I almost lost you again today, Mulder." Her finger touches the spot
above my left eye where I was grazed by a bullet.
I smile weakly, fending off a wince of pain. "It was nothing a little
iodine and gauze couldn't handle."
"It's never *nothing*, Mulder."
I take her hand from my forehead and guide it to my lips. Her
fingertips trace around the corner of my mouth, the faint friction of
the touch causing me to shake.
"Mulder. How many times do you need to be shot at before. . ." She
stops and turns her head away. Still holding hands we sit together on
the mattress. Silent. Now, she is somehow in my arms. I begin to let
myself fall into her. She's mine--no, no, that's not right. She's not
mine, or anybody else's. She belongs to no one but herself. I'm the
one that belongs to her. I always have. I wouldn't want it any other
way.
Suddenly, a kiss. A kiss. A prayer. A rejuvenation of a dying heart.
A life restored and a destiny fulfilled in a simple touch. Her lips
sliding onto mine. She tastes like ambrosia. She feels like heaven.
But she draws away from me then as though some great wrong has
transpired. She murmurs an apology, but I'm not going to take it
because simply, I know that it was right. It felt right and good and
natural.
Here now, we are black and gray. Not so simple, yet not so complex.
Spread raw before each other now, we are more ourselves without our
inhibitions. I kiss her now. A handful of peppermint stars. A taste
of vanilla moon. Drunk on the evening dew we try to feel again. We are
groping in the dark, begging to be found.
She is restless as am I. We are both wanderers seeking refuge in each
other, filling in the missing pieces. Tonight I find the sphere that is
her love and absorb her passions and desires into mine. It is a fiery
concoction that fills me and it is agony in its pleasure.
Her sigh is now on my lips. I feel the burn of passion in her hands.
She runs them across my eyelids gently. Then I feel her hands caressing
my face, my neck, sliding down, down, her tension apparent, ready to
explode. There is desire in each breath, and there is longing in our
eyes that seeks the love that has always been scorched in our souls.
The loneliness, the numbness leaves me now. I feel her relax against
me. The pulse of her heart quick against my chest slowing down into a
deep throb. Our bodies mesh and our spirits are set free afloat upon
the misty rays of neons--blue, green, purple--a mellow dream. Then red,
yellow orange--our skin ablaze in release. Then darkness. Only her and
I.
We are silhouettes in the moonlight. Angels swimming in the dark.
Tonight we step on silk webs, and dance in each other's arms through the
many shades of black.
[[The End]]