Date sent:        Thu, 19 Jun 1997 01:23:33 +0000
From:             Lyle Bontrager <lbontger@wmcstations.com>
Subject:          Lung Fishies

Title: Fox Mulder: Full Battle Armor (1/1)
Author: RocketMan <lbontger@wmcstations.com>
Disclaimer: Not for evil machinations. Not for intended resale. No
offense. 
Author Notes: I'm not even caring at this point whether anyone likes it.
This is set up to be a series, going back and forth between the
characters. And I can't stop now. This could be part 2 of Dana Scully:
Pink Kool-Aid.

F.M. : Full Battle Armor

He was sleeping somewhat, still half conscious so that dreams couldn't
invade, and so that he could hear her. The only thing he heard now was
the wind whistling loudly everywhere, storms raging and groaning on the
roof, and something moaning in the floor. He kept thinking it was her
moan, her groan. He wanted it ot be her, because that would mean she was
awake. 
But she wasn't.
Once again she was in the hospital, hovering between two armies, life
and death, with him rooting for life but feeling wholly inadequate for
the battle. He wanted to scream with the frustration of not being able
to be her champion, of not doing his sworn best to protect her. The man
who had shot her was dead. That didn't make Mulder feel anymore
equipped, especially if they were to lose this battle. The guy had fired
just as she had, and she had been lucky to be a good shot. He was dead
and she had a bullet in her stomach. Her body had been splayed like a
fallen soldier, and he had wished it was the real Army. 
In the Army, when you got hurt, you were sent away from the battle lines
to recuperate.
The doctors said she shouldn't be alive now. That's how good her
prognosis was. She shouldn't be alive. How comforting. You have no
freaking idea and you're telling me you have no freaking idea. Next
time, lie to me.
<Lie to me........I promise, I'll believe>
Wasn't that a song? What was the rest?
<But, please, don't leave.>
Oh.......yeah....
She shouldn't be alive now.
<Yes, she should because she's my partner and she's going to live
forever>
Right now though, she was barely living. Hardly forever.
He was so tired, tired of waiting, of being afraid she wouldn't make it,
tired of jerking everytime he thought she was waking up. He let his head
lay down beside her hand and felt his mind travel farther away, to
Never-Never Land or someplace. His consciousness tumbled and bounced off
his imagination until his subconscious had taken control. He wanted to
stop, but his mind had run away, leaving him stranded without a way to
get back.
He tried to think good thoughts, but that only worked in Peter Pan, and
he wasn't sure flying was the best was to get away from nightmares.
Couldn't night terrors fly too? They were coming, hitching a ride with
his subconscious despite his warning that it was never safe to pick up
hitch hikers.
And they came in full battle armor.
He was forced back to Samantha, to his terrible helplessness, but he was
so numb to it that his demons quickly lost interest and persued more
terrifying things. 
The nightmares found the image of her face, Scully, in the rain, dying
on him, blood mixing with water like food coloring. It became twisted in
pain, neverending, and he couldn't fly high enough to pull her out of
the sun. Where were those happy thoughts?
Her wings burned, and she dropped like a stone to the ground and he
wept, eyes closed.
He opened them at a noise, and the demons had brought them to her door
and it opened of its own volition and there she was, sprawled as she had
been when he'd coming racing into the alley. Like X had been, too, with
blood thick and heavy enough to write messags with. He fell to his knees
and squeezed his eyes shut.
He opened them and he was driving, squinting out the rainy windshield,
looking intently, frightened, for her crumpled body on the side of the
raod. He sped to reach his destination, searching for her, but not
finding, calling, but getting no answer. <Seek and ye shall not find,
knock and the door will open to the dead body of someone you love>
He couldn't reach her, he couldn't find her.
Where was she? Scully?
"Scully?"
His own voice jerked him awake; he saw her stirring and hope rose high
in his throat, suspiciously like a lump.
"Scully . . . wake up now. Wake up." he said.
Her eyes opened, slowly, like there was a great weight pressing down on
them. His breath caught and he squeezed her hand.
"You're okay, Scully. You're going to be okay."
Her head turned to him and her brow wrinkled, like it was hard to focus
on him. "Mulderrr...." she slurred and winced in pain.
"Don't try to talk, Scully. Just.....just don't close your eyes."
He was afraid she'd never wake up again.
She licked her lips and her eyes drilled holes into him. She wanted to
say something he could tell. She searched for his hand and found it,
taking it in hers and holding it, like it was her lifeline.
"I'm.......I'm fine," she whispered. "Just don't let go."
He sighed as she slipped back to sleep.
It seemed they had won this battle.
He didn't want to begin to think about the war.

End.
Adios
RocketMan