Title: Dana Scully: Pink Kool-Aid
Author: RocketMan
lebontrager@harding.edu

Disclaimer: This character, and Mulder too, belong to CC, 1013, and Fox
because he made them. 
Distribute: To whomever you see fit
Rating: G - it's okay and not scary or anything
Content Warning: Um....could be interpreted as Character Death
Spoiler: Absolutely nothing
Classification: S, A, R?
Summary: This is about Scully.
Author's Notes: I had no clue what to name this one. The name it has
still doesn't fit really. Can anyone think of a good name for it?

Dana Scully: Pink Kool-Aid

Dana Scully couldn't move, and she didn't know why, but it was okay, and
so she stopped trying. She felt cold in places and warm in others,
soaked to the bone, but that was alright, she didn't need to worry. How
did she know she didn't need to worry? She was cold and wet and she
couldn't move, shouldn't she be worried? But, no, a voice was telling
her that everything would be fine, a voice she trusted was saying that
she didn't have to worry.
So she didn't.
She let the clouds drift back over her mind and rain their funny
thoughts down on her.
She thought she might be an island, if people could be islands, with
water surrounding her, warm water though like at the tropics, and wet
warmth at her center. The warmth at her center stunned her, or made it
hard to move or think straight, she couldn't tell which, and she felt
pressure like a volcano on her center. Something else whispered like a
dozen birds in flight in her trees. She felt sure the volcano would
erupt, and then the village would be dead. 
She realized this was not right and tried to shake it loose from her
imagination, but found that her imagination was so underused that it
didn't remember how to get rid of it. Then she realized that part of it
was true, there was wetness all around her and pressure at her stomach
and it was warm a bit. She knew something was very wrong. She should be
able to move, to take back control of her body, but she couldn't.
She made a desperate noise and managed to remove all the clouds from her
mind and that made it easier to remove the clouds from her vision. But
she still couldn't move and she felt so light, so why couldn't she move?
She opened her eyes and saw his staring back at her. He smiled tightly
and she realized what was wrong. She was shot, in the stomach, out in
the rain, and it was mixing to form pink Kool-Aid for the greenish black
trees around them. She blinked. She couldn't stay focused. Those clouds
kept fuzzing everything.
"Don't die on me like this, Dana Scully." he whispered fiercely, his
face falsely brave.
Oh, so that was the problem. That was why she couldn't move and the
clouds kept coming back. She was dying. It was a relief just to know
that. That was okay.
She started to close her eyes, let the clouds come take her, but it
thundered loudly and she jerked awake, feeling in her soul that God had
just commanded her to hang on.
"You'l be okay, Scully. You can make it." he said.
She turned her eyes to him and croaked out what she thought was - No I
won't - but turned out to be something she had never wanted to tell him
- ever.
"I love you." she said, her voice soft and cracked.
His face broke and he pulled her into his arms, his hand still putting
pressure to the gunshot wound in her stomach.
"Oh, Scully. Why didn't you tell me before?" he said, agonized.
I didn't want to tell you now! she thought, but my brain's all screwed
up and it said the wrong thing!
She felt darkness come with the raincclouds and she welcomed it,
thinking that she could forget the dull pain hammering in her gut every
second. 
She jerked away from the cloud's embrace when she heard a soft response
from him. She listened intently then replayed what she thought she had
heard.
Had he said I love you back?
The clouds came to claim her forever, but she blew them away. She had to
know what he said, if he loved her . . . if he did, she needed to come
back, to be with him.
And if he didn't, well then there was always plausible deniability,
right?
She managed to open her eyes again, and saw his fear be replaced with a
tiny amount of relief. 
"I thought you were dead." he whispered. "Scully, keep your eyes open
for me okay?" he said.
She couldn't. It was too hard.
Hadn't she said that to Daddy once? What had he done? Told her to do it
anyway.
So she held her eyes open anyway, well, as best she could. Her lids felt
like swollen pieces of muscle, intent on closing.
Her eyes were scratchy and things kept floating in to block her vision.
What were they? Long and kind of - of - oh, eyelashes. Her eyelashes,
her eyes were closing again and she couldn't stop them. 
It thundered and she felt the ground shake. She jarred her eyes open,
despite her earlier assumption that she had no strength left. 
She wanted to say something to him, to get the look of fear and sorrow
and pain off her face. But talking hurt, breathing hurt, staying alive
hurt. She moved her head in his lap, so that her face was against his
leg and found she did not have the strength to move it back. She felt
his hand come up and caress the side of her face carefully, leaving
blood streaks, but the rian quickly washed them away.
She felt her eyes close and she shifted, finding that a small flash of
pain kept her awake.
OH! Too much, too much. . . too much . . . 
She moaned and he squeezed her hand, her bloodied her hand. All her
hands were bloody. She had clutched her stomach after the gunshot until
he had gotten there, right? Called out to him with her last dying
strength and he had come running. She had blacked out in his arms.
Her mouth whimpered without her permission and she felt him wince. She
wanted to tell him - Let me go, let me go. It hurts too much to stay -
but it thundered ferociously and she stopped thinking that.
God could be scarily accurate, frighteningly all-knowing.
His arms encompassed her all around and he felt cold, but to her
everything felt cold. She could not get warm. It made her sleepy and she
closed her eyes again.
"Scully! Open your eyes!"
Had they been closed? She could still see, so they must be open.
"Please, open them!" he said, and she could hear the angony in his
voice.
They *are* open! She wanted to yell and scream, but she realized that
the darkness had come back and her eyes were closed.
And she found it nearly impossible to open them now that they were shut.
But she could reassure him, let him know she was still there.
"Please..." she heard herself croak out.
She felt him lean down next to her, to hear her quiet voice.
"Let me . . . let me sleep....." she murmured.
Suddenly her eyelids were pried open, but for some odd reason, she
couldn't see even then. She heard Mulder sob and she felt warm, so warm,
and safe now.
But why was Mulder crying?

End.
Comments: Yes, please!
I'll even do a story called Fox Mulder if I get enough response!
Adios
RocketMan