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  This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com
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***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

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Always
by shannono
shannono@iname.com

Vignette, Scully angst, Scully first person

Rated PG

Spoilers through "Pusher"; based on episode previews for
"Kitsunegari"

Summary: Scully's thoughts when Pusher returns. (Based on
episode previews for "Kitsunegari.")

Dedication: This is for my partners in "X-Files" and fanfic
crime -- my sister Erin and my best friend Kris. Oh, and Dave,
you'll get a dedication once you get busy writing! ;-)

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Always
By Shannon O'Connor


I stand alone, just inside an empty conference room, still
in shock at what's happening. My mind races, interspersing
scenes past with visions yet to come: A gun pointed at my
head, held by my partner. The click of an empty chamber as
he holds the gun to his own temple.

A bullet tearing through my brain. Or through his.

I can barely breathe now, air coming in through tiny puffs.
My medical training automatically tells me that I'm going to
pass out if I don't stop, but I can't. I see a gasoline-soaked
man holding a lighter, another collapsing to the floor,
felled by a suggestion-induced heart attack.

And a man in a hospital bed, kept alive only by tubes and
wires.

I hear my own words: "I say we don't let him take up another
minute of our time."

I finally gasp for air, taking in deep gulps, and realize
I'm trembling. I reach out a hand, and feel the warmth as
his meets it.

I look up into his face, and another memory flashes in front
of my eyes. I'm sitting in a surveillance van as he straps
on various equipment, preparing to face the monster.
"Smile, Scully," he tries to joke, but then he reads the
fear and anguish on my face and bends in front of me. That
unspoken communication runs between us.

And then he's gone.

Now, my hold on his hand tightens, and I don't want to
let him go this time. I know why Modell's back. We broke
his "rules," and he wants us to pay. The last time, he
was after Mulder.

This time, he wants us both.

Mulder reads my thoughts, as he always does, and I
his. No words, but we move together, my free hand
sliding up his chest as his encircles my waist. I bury
my face in his chest and feel his lips on my hair.

I send up a silent prayer, for his safety and mine. For
despite our differences, our walls, our stubbornness,
we are a team in every sense. Without one, the other
falls.

We will face this monster together, as usual. And no
matter the outcome, we will remain together.

Always.