Subject: *NEW* Happiness is a Warm Gun
From: kitscully@aol.com (Kit scully)
Date: 22 Sep 1997 02:00:04 GMT

NOTE:  alrighty, this is my first time posting any fanfic anywhere, so go
easy on me, please.  I would like some feedback, creative criticism is
*most* welcome.

Disclaimer:  The X-Files, Fox Mulder, and Dana Scully all belong to a sick
surfer from California, 1013, and Fox.  Please don't sue me, I have a
rabbit, a parakeet and a red golden retriever to support!

Summary: none

Spoilers:  Gethsemane

Rating:  PG maybe?


==Happiness is a Warm Gun==
by kit

Dana Scully collapsed onto her bed when she got home that awful night. 
She had had to tell the board about Mulder's last few days on earth, and
his aparent suicide.  It had drained everything from her.  She still
couldn't believe it.  How had this happened?  She had just seen him
yesterday, for God's sake!  Of course she had basically told him that she
could care less whether they ever found the truth about aliens.  Then they
had had another fight, and the last time she had seen him was when he left
the warehouse.

Now, the next day, just thinking about it made her cry.  She took off her
holster and put it on the night stand, stripped off her jacket, shoes, and
pantyhose. Next she pulled the blankets up over her, and laid there for a
moment, thinking.  They had been through a lot together in the last four
years; deaths of family members and friends, almost getting killed
themselves, and most importantly sacrificing their careers for each other. 
Over four years she had come to realize one thing: he was her world.

Now she wasn't sure how she'd be able to live without him, without his
support, and without his dry sense of humor.  She picked up her gun and
looked carefully at it, turning it over in he rhands, feeling the cold
steel.  <Is this what Mulder did?> she wondered.  <Is this what he did
before he put his gun to his head?>  Then she thought of the cancer that
was spreading through her body and pushing into her brain.  <Did he think
of that, too?>

Dana Scully pressed the button, and a full clip fell into her hand.  After
looking at it for a long moment, she pushed it back up inside the gun. 
Again, she examined the piece of metal she held in her hands.  She fiddled
with the safety several times, then put the muzzle to the side of her head.
 Her right index finger squeezed the trigger lightly, and...
                                                 BANG



okay.  How'd you like it?  Did it stink, did you love it?  I'm thinking of
making it a multi-parter, but I'd like some feedback on that.  Send it to
Kit Scully@aol.com
Thanx.