TITLE:  Trinket
AUTHOR: Fialka <fialka62@yahoo.com 
ARCHIVE: please ask.
DISCLAIMER: Hmm. Do Mulder and Scully still belong to You-Know-Who?
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Scully in 155 words. With a bit of Mulder, too. 

For Scullyfic, who made me do it. 

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TRINKET
by Fialka

He was a crazy man, thin of neck and wild of eye. She put her hair up, wore
white lace. It wasn't for him, but it was. 

He never saw her in lace. Never saw till she was lost. Among the stars, in
a boat on a lake. She thinks she dreamt. She knows she was cold. 

A howl at the moon, a trinket for truth. Giants with stubbed-off fingers,
smelling of flowers. 

One drop, two, life ticks and is lost. He was wired, she was fresh. They
are tired now, surrounded by white. 

She sees the light but he will not look. It ends in ice, not fire, the
mystery inside. 

In the absence of light, they forget. Choice is an illusion. A single word,
dared. 

Sand and stones. He takes the stars, puts the crazy man to rest. She
breathes, fine, her ear against his heart. No lace, no white. This is enough. 

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