From: Orri Flamme Date: 7 Dec 2005 14:22:01 -0800 Subject: [all-xf] NEW: Tongues and Tales by Mark Darcy (1/1) Source: atxc Title: Tongues and Tales Author: Mark Darcy (oriflammelite@hotmail.com) Site/Blog: http://www.livejournal.com/users/oriflammelite Rating: PG Disclaimer: These character are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No money is being made from their use. Summary: ... she might be staring back. ^_^ Sometimes when Scully is talking, Mulder thinks he can hear the gears in that flawless mind of hers working, working, working until they complete their circuit around the well-worn tracks of logic she's carved out in that lovely brain many years ago. They are very neat tracks, no dust or doubt whatsoever residing on them and he waits for that moment when her bright eyes meet his to deliver her pronouncement on the impossibility of whatever he's suggested as the killer's ... mutant's ... government's motive of the moment. "... and that's why it doesn't make any sense, Mulder." He's always got a one-liner ready for this, because to shove Scully's logic train off its tracks just as its pulled into the station is both cruel and unusual, not to mention pointless. "You're gorgeous when you're unreasonable, Scully." That should do it for this round even as she reddens and sputters and swears softly beneath her breath. Gingerly, he picks up another gory piece of evidence between his gloved thumb and forefinger, holding it a discreet distance away from his body, not to mention Scully's curious eyes. She's much less squeamish than he is, which isn't always a good thing. A lot braver too, which is good, considering this balances out his innate foolhardiness thus increasing his chances of living out a natural lifetime by around tenfold. She's also a better shot but Mulder will trade in that natural lifetime for a mysterious death in a second before he'd admit to it. "Dare I ask what that is?" She peeks around his arm to get a better look at what Mulder is pretty sure is another desiccated human tongue left behind by George Willow, their latest killer freak of the month. "Whose it is might be the better question but I'll need you for that answer," he replies, wincing and hoping she'll have an evidence bag residing somewhere in her magical purse of hers. The one that contains All Things Anyone Could Need, including a pair of long tweezers once used to remove a horrific splinter from beneath his thumbnail, the one he'd gotten while performing the heroic feat of holding onto a wooden railing while casually walking down a flight of stairs. That had hurt. Taking it out hurt somewhat less, but that was because she was holding onto his hand while removing it, taking a moment afterwards to tenderly blow on the throbbing cut while he stared, dumbstruck at how utterly beautiful she was -- head tilted, lips pursed, her hair falling messily over her forehead, just slightly tangled at the top where he longed to smooth it down with his free hand. He longed to kiss those lips too. They were in perfect position for kissing and Fox Mulder was a man who hated wasting a good pucker, especially on a woman he'd wanted to kiss since the day he'd met her. Unfortunately kissing takes two people who feel relatively the same way about the activity, so he simply sat and nodded when she asked if it felt any better, which it did, since Scully was a medical doctor who knew what she was doing when it came to handling tweezers and splinters and all that sort of stuff. She also had a mean handle on the legal collection of human remains. Mulder was happy to be relieved of the tongue that used to belong to someone else and Scully plopped it in the evidence bag with admirable finesse. He thanks God for her, promising to believe in Him at some point, as long as Scully is by his side. ^_^ A few hours later on, she pulls on her scrubs -- ugly on anyone else, flattering beyond belief on her -- and goes to work in the half-tiled, half-wood paneled schoolroom this town calls a morgue. It's a cold and ugly place, enlivened only by a woman who is intent and focussed and gorgeous in her search for justice. Scully's done in less than an hour -- it's only a tongue after all -- and Mulder saunters in on cue. He knows this routine by now. Crack a joke, ask a few questions and watch her pretty arched eyebrows knot for one second of deep contemplation before she goes into her theories on what exactly's happened between the suspect and the victim. "There's not a lot to work with here, Mulder," she says as she pulls off a clumsy pair of protective goggles. He agrees. "I'm trying, but I'm not coming up with anything either. You'd think it'd be easy. Tongues are inherently funny." "What?" "The joke," he explains, with some consternation. "I don't have one. This isn't right. There has to be a joke in here at this point but it's not coming to me." Scully's voice turns dry, like a desert sort of dry. "Guess your moonlighting career in stand-up is history then." He's not above begging. "Come on, Scully, help me out here." "Is the part where the attacker ripped out the tongue with brute force do anything for you? See this line of torn muscle? Hilarious." "Guess the cat had nothing to do with it then," he quips, relieved, even at the utter lameness. It was better than nothing. Sort of. The scrub cap is slowly peeled away. Red hair falls to Scully's shoulders and she's sighing. "I think we need to give serious thought to your original theory about Mr. Willow. Because if you look closely over here ..." She picks up her scapel and points to the organ's strangely smooth surface. "The taste buds are gone. Every single one of them. That's something the cat -- nor a normal human being -- should be able to accomplish." "You're kidding, right?" "I'm afraid not, Mulder." He sighs. "All that and I -still- can't get a good joke out of this." She threatens to snap her latex glove at him at this point. He doesn't flinch, not because she won't do it -- because she will -- but because it's funnier that way. The glove hits him in the nose. Mulder wasn't expecting it (he swore it looked like one of her back-down moments) and he yelps. Like a girl, and Scully laughs and laughs, a sound that is as welcome as a song. ^_^ In the end, it's always the same. She'll tell him what he needs to know. He'll depend on her to pull him back from whatever terrible abyss that waits and together they'll find who they're looking for, putting yet another monster away -- forever. At sometime around midnight, in some town time forgot, they'll fall into separate motel room beds, tucked to the neck in scratchy sheets and cheaply woven blankets. Around midnight, a sleepless Mulder will stare at the adjoining door, just-this visible in the murky darkness. He lie there staring. Staring and wondering ... Wondering, if by any chance, Scully might be staring back. ^_^ AN: Kinda short, I know, but I'm just getting my feet wet. If you found something interesting here, let me know and hit reply.