Story 263: "Parabiosis" by Penumbra
The official global rewatch of The X-Files is long over, as is the six episode miniseries that followed (and inspired it), yet here I am, still slogging through season seven. I must have blocked out how bad the seventh season is. Since "Parabiosis" is the quintessential season seven fanfic, I thought it would be fun to revisit it. It's not my favorite of her fics--that would be "Fathoms Five," by a wide margin--but "Parabiosis" makes many, many readers's best-of list. "Parabiosis" features lyrical use of language and unusually vivid writing, plus a killer of an ending. (Thanks for that, Chris Carter.)
"You want to hear my mummy theory?" he asks in the bath.
"Hit me." The wet kelp of her hair sticks to his chin as she reclines against him. Earlier, she yelped and gasped, and knocked a candle, hissing, into the water. He smells hot freesia wax, wet woman's hair, female smells in his dingy bathroom.
"Our mummy has gone to Albuquerque."
"Mulder..." she growls and sighs. His arms around her slippery body ride out the upheaval. She speaks with exasperated precision. "A cadaver stuffed with natron reanimates and locomotes its way to New Mexico. How's it going to get there, Mulder, thumb down a dromedary?"
The mirror he wedged over the faucets is fogged, but in a water streak he can partially see her face, her eyes heavy-lidded, color in her cheeks. His dark head is above hers, his arms are crossed beneath her chin. She turns her head and idly licks a drop of bath water from his shoulder.
This isn't real, he thinks.
This cannot possibly be happening.
Let us know what you think in the comments. Please leave suggestions in the nomination post.
I'm linking to Gossamer because it has the cleanest formatting. Read Parabiosis, Part 1 and 2
"You want to hear my mummy theory?" he asks in the bath.
"Hit me." The wet kelp of her hair sticks to his chin as she reclines against him. Earlier, she yelped and gasped, and knocked a candle, hissing, into the water. He smells hot freesia wax, wet woman's hair, female smells in his dingy bathroom.
"Our mummy has gone to Albuquerque."
"Mulder..." she growls and sighs. His arms around her slippery body ride out the upheaval. She speaks with exasperated precision. "A cadaver stuffed with natron reanimates and locomotes its way to New Mexico. How's it going to get there, Mulder, thumb down a dromedary?"
The mirror he wedged over the faucets is fogged, but in a water streak he can partially see her face, her eyes heavy-lidded, color in her cheeks. His dark head is above hers, his arms are crossed beneath her chin. She turns her head and idly licks a drop of bath water from his shoulder.
This isn't real, he thinks.
This cannot possibly be happening.
Let us know what you think in the comments. Please leave suggestions in the nomination post.
I'm linking to Gossamer because it has the cleanest formatting. Read Parabiosis, Part 1 and 2