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From: =?iso-8859-1?q?Angharad=20Wade?= <little_corner_2000@yahoo.co.uk>
Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2002 13:51:59 +0000 (GMT)
Subject: Sweet Night (1/1) by Angharad
Source: direct

Title: Sweet Night (1/1)
Author: Angharad 
E-mail: sweet_roses_2000_uk@yahoo.co.uk
Distribution: The X-Files Improv Archive only.
Rating: PG
Classification: VA
Spoilers: None really but set during the cancer arc.
Keywords: Implied MSR, Scully POV, Scully Angst
Summary: Scully spends a rare, free evening at home,
but is weighed down heavily on her mind by recent
events she had no control over.
Improv: #1 sweet ~ static ~ mocha ~ oil
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from the X
Files; they are the property of Chris Carter and 1013
Productions.
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be a simple
evening at home for Scully but lately my muse has
taken it upon herself to veer down the angst route and
to make a story out of a vignette *g* Many thanks to a
dear friend of mine for being the 'whispers of my
muse' and thanks to Syrenslure for taking a look at
this before I posted it to the list :)

Sweet Night (1/1)

I walk into my apartment, feeling annoyed. Annoyed at
Mulder, annoyed at the world, and annoyed at myself.

I feel sorry for the poor furniture when I throw my
bag down, not so gently, and when I kick my three-inch
heels off my feet; the shoes skitter across the living
room floor, to rest beside the sofa.

I breathe out a sigh; I'm still standing in the
hallway. I roll my neck around gently, willing myself
to relax before I slowly make my way to the kitchen,
weariness creeping into my bones.

<I just wish Mulder would stop worrying about me. I
can handle myself.>

I add some water to the kettle before plugging it in.
The tap is still running so I put a hand underneath
the clear water. It feels icy cold against my skin but
that isn't what bothers me, what bothers me is the
fact that my skin feels just as cold as the water and
not from lack of heating, or warm clothes.

I quickly draw my hand away; not wanting to consider
the implications that simple act could give me.

Making myself a glorious mug of mocha flavoured hot
chocolate; I shuffle into the living room in my
stockinged feet, not yet feeling up to changing out of
my suit, settling amongst the cushions.

I don't switch the T.V. on, or music. I just sit
there; my hands around the warm mug, my legs and feet
curled up amongst the cushions. I listen to the
silence around me, letting it do its work of calming
me, relaxing me, loosening the heavy knots of tension
in my shoulders.

I listen to the faint noise of the traffic, far in the
background, humming away.

But the silence has an unexpected consequence; my mind
is free to reign.

I feel guilty for snapping at Mulder. I know he means
well but I just wish he wouldn't smother me!
Frustration overcomes me as I try to fight a losing
battle with myself. I understand Mulder's need to be
there for me, especially now, but doesn't he realise I
need some time to myself?

<Time to face up to what is happening? Or time to
retreat back into your shell?>

The spell broken, I bang the half empty mug on the
coffee table and unfold my legs to get up from the
sofa.

Standing by the window, the half opened window allows
the cool breeze to roam, ruffling my hair and
caressing my skin. For a moment, I am grateful for the
cool breeze, the soothing action it has upon my soul.

But my thoughts keep on returning to that statement.

I decide it's too quiet so I go over to the stereo and
switch the radio on, to reveal only static. I shut it
off quickly. Maybe I should change? I think, not
enjoying the feeling of stuffiness. I decide that a
hot bath is the answer.

Walking into the bathroom, I sit on the toilet lid to
peel my stockings off onto the floor. Resting my bare
feet on the cool tiles, I savour the feeling before
getting up to run the bath; turning the taps on full
and pouring a fair amount of the lilac and lavender
bath oil into the swirling water; no expense will be
spared tonight.

<I deserve it. I know I deserve it, after the past
couple of weeks we've had.>

I sit back down, sadness filling me as I collect my
thoughts. I said 'we', instead of 'I'; when did I
start thinking of us in that way? I'm so sorry Mulder,
so sorry that you have to go through this. You
shouldn't have to.

Why do you stay?

<You need him Dana. Don't push him away.>

He doesn't deserve to see me like this, to suffer this
much pain, because of me.

Why do you stay?

<You know why, Dana. You always have, deep down.>

Coming back to reality, I realise the bath is nearly
full, the bubbles nearly overflowing. Forcing myself
into action, I hastily turn the taps off.

I breathe out a sigh, stripping off the layers of
clothing one by one, letting them fall in a heap to
the floor, resolving to enjoy the feel of the
luxurious bath.

Tying my hair back into a ponytail, I step into the
hot waters, wincing slightly as I slowly lower myself
into the bath. Sitting down for several minutes has
cast a chill on my skin, my mind refusing to
acknowledge the true reason.

Finally, my skin adjusts to the change in temperature
and the feel of the steamy waters, the bubbles
bursting lightly against my skin and the sweet scent
rising from the bath, all serve it's purpose, to
soothe my soul.

The End


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