And She Moves
by Slippin' Mickeys
red_phile@yahoo.com
CLASSIFICATION: Vignette
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: What happens when you stop moving?
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance
SPOILERS: None.
DISCLAIMER: You know they don't belong to me-
Mulder, Scully and the crew-
CC and Fox maintain the rights,
And I hope that they don't sue.
I just love running around here
In Chris' little universe
And I hope that he appreciates
That my stories aren't perverse.
I think that copyright infringement
Is a complicated phrase
But all my lawyer friends tell me
That in the end it really pays.
But see, Chris- (can I call you that?)
You don't need the money all that bad,
You flick ran me $7.50
And that was all I had.
And since I've seen it 7 times
(You had better love me now)
was your little venture successful?
If not, I'll tell you how:
Quit teasing all of us 'Shippers
(Noromos number in the few)
You've got to give us the kiss
And that missing hospital "view".
But really what's most important,
What would make it all the brighter-
Is if you and your lawyers decided
Not to prosecute *this* fanfic writer!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: This goes out as always to the chat chicks of Monday
night.
ARCHIVE: Go for it. Just make sure that my name and email address stays
attached. And let me know where it is so I can go visit! I love visiting!
FEEDBACK: Do you want me to beg? Do you really? Cause I'll do it, you know!
I crave and love feedback! Constructive flames are greatly appreciated,
although I just use the flamey flames to light the sh** bombs that I will
throw at your house should I receive one! ;-) red_phile@yahoo.com
NOTE: I feel I should warn you, this is my first vignette. Please be gentle
with me! (I cringe when I notice that my disclaimer is almost longer than
the story.)
**********Get WIPped!!!!!!**********
And She Moves
By Slippin' Mickeys
And she moves.
She's come back from a frozen hell of unknowns and silent terrors. And she
moves. Moves with me into the cold, barren plain of snow and ice-- the
absence of life; The absence of movement. We're both haggard and worn and
frigid, but at least she moves.
I was so afraid she wouldn't.
It is morning and she proceeds through our office door with her usual
graceful gait. Past my desk and up to her own, depositing her belongings
with a frustrated sigh. I chuckle at her then, she turns to me crosses her
arms and smiles. She smiles for only me, and I savor and relish her grin as
a hungry mongrel does food. Sweeping her grin up and carrying it to my
corner, hoarding it for myself, protecting it with the ferocity of a
starved beast. And I am starved. Starved for her. Starved for her smile.
Starved for the upward movement of her lips. Movement. She moves.
I was so afraid she wouldn't.
My photographic memory recalls with perfect clarity the tired pace of her
walk and weary plod of her feet through her apartment after she awoke from
her coma. Did she know how it hurt me, to see her like that? And yet it
thrilled me as well. After three months of hell, the wearied way she
shuffled about still causes my eyes to close in silent, blissful rapture.
She was beaten but alive. Drained and worn from her injuries, yet still
there. Living, breathing, walking, moving. And she moved.
I was so afraid she wouldn't.
She slips through the morgue with a purposeful step and determined gait.
Within walls that see nothing but death, she is the sole beacon of
vitality. On death's door she has been so often, yet she has beaten her end
more frequently than one ever should, to come back here to do what she does
best. To come back to me. She wields her scalpel with a definitiveness and
skill born not of years of study, but of her own essence. Scully is nothing
if not precise. Precision in the way she talks, thinks, moves. And she
moves.
I was so afraid she wouldn't.
I want to reach out and touch her sleeping face. To brush my palm along the
classic beauty of her features, to feel the heat of her skin, the sweet
puff of her breath, the pulse of her heart. I have to restrain myself,
though, keeping both hands on the steering wheel as I drive us to our next
case. I resign myself to watching her. To gaze at the sleeping form of my
partner. She's so still. I tentatively reach out with my hand, the need to
assure myself of her life, too overwhelming to suppress. But I pull back
abruptly when she shifts in her seat . I push out a relieved sigh, and turn
my attention back to the road. I hear her move again beside me. And she
moves.
I was so afraid she wouldn't.
Will I ever have her?
Will she ever have me?
Scully, I want you. I need you. I need you to be there for me, always. I
need you to heal me when I'm sick, comfort me when I'm hurting, and be with
me when I'm old. Most of all though, Scully, I need you to keep moving.
Don't ever stop. When you do stop moving, Scully, you'll stop living. And
when you stop living, I will as well. I've made myself a promise, a promise
to not go on without you. I can't live without you Scully, I don't remember
how.
Just keep moving, Scully, keep us both alive.
She walks into my apartment without knocking. I had called and asked her to
come over. I realize I must have scared her, though, she made it here so
quickly. Instead of scolding her for speeding, though, I merely watch her
move to my side. That's it, Scully, keep moving. She asks me if I'm okay.
She asks what it is that's wrong. I sit for a moment and contemplate what I
am going to tell her. So I tell her. I tell her everything. God, Scully,
this is so hard.
She moves into my arms then, with unexpected, but not unpleasant fervor.
You never cease to surprise me, Scully. Just when I think I've hit rock
bottom, you're always there, right where you need to be, by my side. I am
stunned for a moment. But only a moment. I return your embrace, pushing my
face into your hair. I still can't believe it. She moved. She moved into my
arms.
I was so afraid she wouldn't.
Fin
FEEDBACK: Plllllease!!! red_phile@yahoo.com
(
geocities.com/area51/crater) (
geocities.com/area51)