From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Tue, 29 Feb 2000 14:37:33 -0600
Subject: Estrogen Revenge by XRie -- FPS/MSR by 
Source: direct

Reply To: x_rie@hotmail.com


Title: Estrogen Revenge
Content: MSR
Spoilers: First Person Shooter
Rating: PG
Summary: Boys will be boys, but Scully's estrogen
needs expression. If this were a songfic, Colonel
Pickering and the butler would sing to Professor
Higgins, and Eliza Doolittle would get mad. Luckily,
there is no singing in this story. But Scully does
get mad.
Disclaimer: They are not mine. I'm just taking them
out for a walk. Don't sue.


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Estrogen Revenge
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"... nailed that Cyberbitch, Wildman!"

Mulder's sharp intake of breath interrupted Langly's
gushing praise. "Geez Scully, what are you using on
that?"

She rolled her eyes and continued to swab the
abrasion on his forehead. "Alcohol, Mulder."

"If we hadn't of been thrown out of the game, we
would've taken her on," Langly continued, the mad
glint in his eyes visible even through his thick
glasses.

"Any day!" Byers interjected, his usually calm
demeanor nowhere to be found as he crouched in
combat-readiness position. He did have the sense,
however, to straighten up and move out of the way as
Scully circled to the other side of Mulder's chair to
get a better look at his next wound. 

Frohicke did not have the same sense. It took Scully
a raised eyebrow and a glare to get him to move
behind the chair, where he placed a hand on Mulder's
shoulder in mock solemnity before announcing, "But I
must say, you kicked ass in there my friend!"
Mulder's face broke into a sheepish grin, and he
shook his head. "Until the part where your ammo ran
out. Definitely bad luck. Unfair advantage for her."

"Speaking of unfair advantage ..." Mulder huffed with
animation, craning his head towards Frohicke. Scully
grabbed his chin and turned him back to face her. She
began work on the gash above his eyebrow, causing him
to hiss in pain. 

"*Speaking* of unfair advantage ..." he warmed to the
subject "... did you see how *nine* of her tried to
take me out with pistols " -- he gritted his teeth as
the alcohol seeped into the cut -- "when all I had
was a sword??" This earned sympathetic grunts and
indignant nods from the Gunmen. "Not that I couldn't
have handled it," he added, flexing his hands as
though he were testing the weight of the saber.

"So, what happened when you went into the building?
To take her on solo?" Langly urged eagerly.

"Well, like you saw, I left you guys and followed her
into the building."

Byers nodded.

"I went down some stairs, and there she was, coming
at me from out of the shadows."

Langly's eyes were rivetted to Mulder's face.

"She had the broadsword in her hand. You know, the
one she used to ... well, anyways." Mulder paused,
then collected himself. "She's swinging it in slow
circles in front of her, like this --" Mulder rotated
his forearm in front of him. "Ow! Scully! Okay.
Alright. Anyways ... she lunges at me to bring the
sword down on my head, but I deflect the blow with my
gun. Then I just start blasting her, and she ...
disappears." He lent an air of mystery to the final
word.

"Wo." Frohicke let out a breath. "What about --"

"Okay Mulder," Scully interrupted. "You're done.
Let's get out of here." She grabbed her jacket and
headed towards the exit. Mulder showed no sign of
moving. The Gunmen just stared at her, blinking once,
twice. "Unless you want to *walk* to the motel," she
added drily, looking over her shoulder.

"No, no. I'm coming," he sighed and stood to follow
her.  He spun around momentarily to raise his
eyebrows and give the Gunmen the victory sign, then
jogged to catch up with her.

"You kick ass, Mulder!" Frohicke yelled after him.
"Scully kicked ass too," he added to his friends.
"Maybe we should invite her over to help us solve the
new TombRaider."

***********************

"I'm driving," Scully announced with finality, and
Mulder dropped the keys into her hand without
argument, walked toward the passenger side.

Scully unlocked the doors, took her place behind the
wheel and pulled the seat forward with a snap. Mulder
folded himself into the seat beside her, adjusting
his legs to fit the space, then turned to grin at her
as she shoved the key into the ignition.

"Maybe we could suggest to Skinner that they develop
a program like that for training at Quantico. Forget
target practice at the shooting range."

Scully graced him with a tight smile and revved the
engine, backing out of the parking space with a
little too much speed. His smile fading, Mulder
glanced warily at the hard lines of her profile, then
turned his head to stare out the window. They drove
in silence to the motel.

***********************

Scully worked the key in the lock and leveraged the
warped motel door open with her hip. Her eyes
registered dismay when she felt Mulder enter the room
close behind her.

"Mulder ..." she groaned wearily, throwing her jacket
on the chair and falling heavily backwards onto the
bed, resting her arm over her eyes to block out the
light. "It's late." She heard the motel door click
shut, but the sound of her partner's breathing
remained in the room. She uncovered her eyes to see
him watching her, his expression unreadable.

"*Mul*der." She pushed herself up on her elbows, a
note of warning entering her voice. "I'm serious. I
want to go to sleep."

"Scully." His tone was serious; his lips hardly
moved. "Tell me what's wrong." He sat gingerly beside
her on the flowered bedspread, craned his neck to
look at her, awaiting a response.

She pushed off the bed and moved away from him, her
back turned, arms crossed in front of her. "Don't
tell me you have no idea."

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, opening his mouth
to speak, then closing it again. He dropped his hands
into his lap, then bowed his head, reached up to
pinch the bridge of his nose. He expelled his breath
slowly. "Look, I'm sorry I got caught in there. But I
had to go in after the guys. And once I was there, I
admit ... I *wanted* to take her on."

She turned to face him, raised an eyebrow. "Ya-yas,
Mulder? I risked my *life* to go in there after you
..." her voice raised in pitch "... And you, Mulder;
you could have died in there. You could have *died.*
And for what? Ego? Some warped sense of male pride?"
Her shoulders slumped, the anger in her face melting
to weary sadness. "Then you act as though it's really
just a barrel of laughs." 

Mulder held out his hand, motioning her to sit by him
on the bed. She complied but sat staring at her hands
folded tightly in her lap.

"Maybe rampant testosterone' did get the better of
me," he began softly. "I'm sorry. But you done real
good in there Scully. You shot em up." He injected a
little levity into his voice. "Frohicke wasn't
kidding when he said you're hot."

He felt her sardonic huff of appreciation next to
him, and he reached out a finger, tilting her chin up
until she met his sincere gaze. "You did save me.
Thank you."

The blue of her eyes cleared a little, and he sighed
inwardly with relief. He dropped his hands to his
knees and tensed to stand, ready to put the evening
behind him. He looked at her with a teasing
expression and made an attempt to lighten the tension
that had settled thickly between them.

"And I'm telling you Scully, the sight of you in body
armor wasting cybertrash with your laser blaster
would make any guy at headquarters either cheer or
run for cover."

Her maddening, wistful expression returned in a
flash, and she leaned away from him slightly. He
swallowed the lump in his throat, dismayed not only
to have misjudged the heart of her problem, but to
have possibly made things worse.

"What about you Mulder? Cheer or run for cover?"

"Cheer. Definitely." He eyed her warily, chewing his
lip.

"And if I lost the body armor and the gun?"

He cocked his head in confusion, unable to decipher
the direction of her questions. He could only answer
honestly. "It wouldn't make a difference to me."

And she smiled. Not a dazzling grin, but a slight
quirk of the lips that seemed to indicate
satisfaction with his response. And then she leaned
towards him.

The jolt of sensation that radiated from his chest
through his entire body when she brushed her lips
across his froze him in place for a beat. But the
rake of her fingers through his unruly hair spurred
him to action, and he responded to her direction
hungrily, following her lead with lips and hands and
tongue.

She broke away first and buried her face in his neck,
feeling the thumping of his pulse and the ragged
movement of his pharynx against her cheek. His
jugular throbbed and pounded endlessly. She started
to grow uncomfortable with his silence. "Don't tell
me," she murmured at his collarbone with a wry smile.
"You feel like blasting the crap out of something?"

"Hmm?" he grunted absently, meeting her gaze for the
first time. A dazed, windswept expression clouded his
dilated eyes. His head dipped lazily until his lips
brushed hers again with excruciating gentleness. His
hand drifted slowly up her spine, leaving a trail of
heat and chills in its wake, until it rested at the
base of her skull, thumb tracing circles of ecstasy
on her throat. His voice rasped into her ear. "What's
a blaster?"

"Nothing." She smiled against his mouth as he nibbled
lightly at her lower lip. She arched her neck,
allowing him access. "Nothing."

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END
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