Your Mom
Title: It’s the Weather
Plot: Based on moments of time for Mulder and Scully, this is a journey through their relationship pertaining to weather related events. Really, you’ll see.
Rating: T (for totally awesome =p ) Some language and sensitive
situations will be a part of this story I imagine.
Disclaimer: Why does anyone ever put these? Anyway, not mine yadda yadda. I am still all for the Mulder and Scully Happy Meal though. Who should we write to? Imagine pulling out the Flukeman from your box of happiness. *snickers*
Spoilers: Series=over. Watch it, k?
Notes: I haven’t written any fan-fic in ages. I love feedback, so let me know how I am faring. (cse_tx_2000@yahoo.com)
Target: Pilot (Rain)
Three days, two hours, twenty-six minutes. That is precisely how long he had known Dana Scully and she was already getting under his skin.
Working on the X-files with Diana had been different-much different. Of course, he had also developed a personal interest with her so that was partly to attribute to his cautiousness with the child following behind him.
Einstein’s Twin Paradox? Who rewrites Einstein? Einstein wouldn’t even rewrite himself, he thought as he walked along. Granted, the feat was amusing but she was not an enigma. Dana Scully, the trim 5’3 frame, long auburn hair, and baby face was an agenda and someone who wanted to bring him down.
I wish Diana were here, he said to himself. She had transferred out of the X-files to take an assignment on counter terrorism in Tunisia or Russia or…somewhere. His foot sank into the saturated earth and finished soaking his socks. He let out a loud curse, not even bothering to gauge Scully’s reaction.
Diana’s probably sipping fine Russian vodka while I trek through graveyards in ‘plausible Oregon with Marie Curie, he scoffed inward.
He drug her to a dark corner of the cemetery in the pouring rain, hoping to find some clue to the case they were working on. All he found was an overturned grave and more banter from Ms. Nobel Prize.
Yes, he knew it must sound crazy as he sputtered through his speech. She met him through every theory, a verbal head butt if he ever experienced one. Finally, he gave up after she burst into a fit of laughter when he suggested Billy Miles had taken the young women to the forest, summoned by unseen forces.
“Let’s go and get dry,” he finally told her.
In the car, water dripped from the strands of her hair and his fingers shook from the cold as he cranked up the heater.
“I’m beginning to think you have a thing for the rain,” she said with amusement.
“It never stops here,” he smiled, tapping the window to his left. The drops pattered on the glass sending moisture smears across the shield.
“I can’t wait to get into dry clothes and curl up under the covers,” she shivered.
He sat feeling the hot air blow onto his fingers, lost somewhere in thought. It had been so long since he had a woman to lie beside him. With mock amusement, he glanced sideways to Scully. She was cute enough, seemingly small and delicate. Behind it all, he would almost bet she was a strong pillar of a woman. She sure hadn’t let him make anything off of her.
He threw the car into drive and pulled away from the dead. Who was he kidding? While Scully was attractive, he surmised he would never know the other side of her.
“So, how are you liking it so far?” he asked.
“It?” She frowned.
“The job. This,” he motioned between them. “Twelve a.m., pouring rain, dead bodies, potential alien abductions.”
“While amusing in radical probability, I look forward to finding some scientific, rationale explanation to all of this. Life is a complex puzzle. Flights of reality hardly help,” she explained.
Like a dagger to his heart. And spoken like a true conspirator, he laughed without amusement. Diana had been an ally. Dana would be a foe. The thought of being shut down, the dismissal, and ridiculous reports angered him.
“It may sound like science fiction, but it’s true. I’m not the one who made this stuff up. It’s fact,” he glowered.
“Fact? Based on what?”
“There is evidence. Everywhere.”
“Grainy pictures of UFOs, rednecks from Podunkville claiming they saw the chupacabra , Big Foot, ghosts, demons, or any other myriad of holiday spectacle. It’s unsubstantiated.”
“I wasn’t aware that the chupacabra had a holiday and you can’t tell me you’ve never seen a man who bore a slight resemblance to a seven foot ape.”
“The general public is full of men who scratch themselves and lack proper grooming habits,” she shot to him with a layer of sarcasm.
“Just for a moment, let go of your convictions.”
“If I did, then I wouldn’t be true to me or to my work on the X-files,” she answered.
For a moment, she sat silent and stared somewhere out into space. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.
“Where did all of this come from?”
It was only a whisper, a barely audible one at that. He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his damp hair. Once he gained his composure, he glanced her way again. She looked stung, afraid, unwanted.
“There’s so much more to this life, Scully. So much more than what we see. I’m just trying to lift the veil and see what’s behind the curtain.”
He dodged the question with mild regret. Not that he minded telling her everything, but it was too soon for that. If she noticed his indirectness, she didn’t let on. Instead, she just looked out the window.
“Maybe you are right,” she admitted. She turned to look at him, blue eyes freezing him like ice. “But what if you’re wrong?”
-More to come later.
Plot: Based on moments of time for Mulder and Scully, this is a journey through their relationship pertaining to weather related events. Really, you’ll see.
Rating: T (for totally awesome =p ) Some language and sensitive
situations will be a part of this story I imagine.
Disclaimer: Why does anyone ever put these? Anyway, not mine yadda yadda. I am still all for the Mulder and Scully Happy Meal though. Who should we write to? Imagine pulling out the Flukeman from your box of happiness. *snickers*
Spoilers: Series=over. Watch it, k?
Notes: I haven’t written any fan-fic in ages. I love feedback, so let me know how I am faring. (cse_tx_2000@yahoo.com)
Target: Pilot (Rain)
Three days, two hours, twenty-six minutes. That is precisely how long he had known Dana Scully and she was already getting under his skin.
Working on the X-files with Diana had been different-much different. Of course, he had also developed a personal interest with her so that was partly to attribute to his cautiousness with the child following behind him.
Einstein’s Twin Paradox? Who rewrites Einstein? Einstein wouldn’t even rewrite himself, he thought as he walked along. Granted, the feat was amusing but she was not an enigma. Dana Scully, the trim 5’3 frame, long auburn hair, and baby face was an agenda and someone who wanted to bring him down.
I wish Diana were here, he said to himself. She had transferred out of the X-files to take an assignment on counter terrorism in Tunisia or Russia or…somewhere. His foot sank into the saturated earth and finished soaking his socks. He let out a loud curse, not even bothering to gauge Scully’s reaction.
Diana’s probably sipping fine Russian vodka while I trek through graveyards in ‘plausible Oregon with Marie Curie, he scoffed inward.
He drug her to a dark corner of the cemetery in the pouring rain, hoping to find some clue to the case they were working on. All he found was an overturned grave and more banter from Ms. Nobel Prize.
Yes, he knew it must sound crazy as he sputtered through his speech. She met him through every theory, a verbal head butt if he ever experienced one. Finally, he gave up after she burst into a fit of laughter when he suggested Billy Miles had taken the young women to the forest, summoned by unseen forces.
“Let’s go and get dry,” he finally told her.
In the car, water dripped from the strands of her hair and his fingers shook from the cold as he cranked up the heater.
“I’m beginning to think you have a thing for the rain,” she said with amusement.
“It never stops here,” he smiled, tapping the window to his left. The drops pattered on the glass sending moisture smears across the shield.
“I can’t wait to get into dry clothes and curl up under the covers,” she shivered.
He sat feeling the hot air blow onto his fingers, lost somewhere in thought. It had been so long since he had a woman to lie beside him. With mock amusement, he glanced sideways to Scully. She was cute enough, seemingly small and delicate. Behind it all, he would almost bet she was a strong pillar of a woman. She sure hadn’t let him make anything off of her.
He threw the car into drive and pulled away from the dead. Who was he kidding? While Scully was attractive, he surmised he would never know the other side of her.
“So, how are you liking it so far?” he asked.
“It?” She frowned.
“The job. This,” he motioned between them. “Twelve a.m., pouring rain, dead bodies, potential alien abductions.”
“While amusing in radical probability, I look forward to finding some scientific, rationale explanation to all of this. Life is a complex puzzle. Flights of reality hardly help,” she explained.
Like a dagger to his heart. And spoken like a true conspirator, he laughed without amusement. Diana had been an ally. Dana would be a foe. The thought of being shut down, the dismissal, and ridiculous reports angered him.
“It may sound like science fiction, but it’s true. I’m not the one who made this stuff up. It’s fact,” he glowered.
“Fact? Based on what?”
“There is evidence. Everywhere.”
“Grainy pictures of UFOs, rednecks from Podunkville claiming they saw the chupacabra , Big Foot, ghosts, demons, or any other myriad of holiday spectacle. It’s unsubstantiated.”
“I wasn’t aware that the chupacabra had a holiday and you can’t tell me you’ve never seen a man who bore a slight resemblance to a seven foot ape.”
“The general public is full of men who scratch themselves and lack proper grooming habits,” she shot to him with a layer of sarcasm.
“Just for a moment, let go of your convictions.”
“If I did, then I wouldn’t be true to me or to my work on the X-files,” she answered.
For a moment, she sat silent and stared somewhere out into space. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.
“Where did all of this come from?”
It was only a whisper, a barely audible one at that. He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his damp hair. Once he gained his composure, he glanced her way again. She looked stung, afraid, unwanted.
“There’s so much more to this life, Scully. So much more than what we see. I’m just trying to lift the veil and see what’s behind the curtain.”
He dodged the question with mild regret. Not that he minded telling her everything, but it was too soon for that. If she noticed his indirectness, she didn’t let on. Instead, she just looked out the window.
“Maybe you are right,” she admitted. She turned to look at him, blue eyes freezing him like ice. “But what if you’re wrong?”
-More to come later.