Title: Wake Me When We Get There
Author: Emily Todd Carter
Genre: General, M-S UST
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I think there's a conspiracy of men at 1013 that like to go around
reading fanfiction and suing people. Right.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Mulder watches as Scully drifts to sleep on yet another never-ending car ride.
PLEASE REVIEW!!!
They passed another cow.
And another cow.
And yet another cow.
She had grown weary of the seemingly monotonous procession of cows, had tired of it miles ago, and, in lieu of opting to initiate a conversation with her apparently enraptured-by-the-Yankees-game-on-the-radio-partner, she closed her eyes.
And they passed a cow again.
The darkness behind her eyelids danced with explosions of green and yellow. The plains. The hay. A black spot… undoubtedly a cow. Useless.
And so they drove onward, forward, into Hell knew where. Hell being her partner, as, per usual, he had decided on informing her of their travel plans before naming a particular destination. She shrugged mentally, recalling his words.
Got your overnite, Scully?
Good. We'll be back by morning.
Sighing, she reached for the map, catching his peripheral glance as she unfolded its awkward sections and attempted to pinpoint their location. Somewhere south of somewhere north. Whatever.
Did it really matter?
She returned the map to the glove compartment, struggling for a moment with its papers. He looked in her direction once more, keeping his eyes off the road only as long as he needed in order to realize her exasperation.
"Sunflower seed?"
She didn't reply, offering a terse smile and slow refusal with her eyes. He nodded, rolling down the window to spit a shell into the passing wind. He closed it once more, silence pervading the car.
"Shouldn't be much longer, Scully."
She made no acknowledgement, lying her head upon the seat once again. He continued driving as she drifted in and out of consciousness. White line. White line. Yellow line.
"Wake me when we get there, Mulder."
No response. Another silo from his window. Another picket fence. Another chance to say something, anything, before she drifted off, away.
The radio became a subtle monotone as she slept.
Her partner quietly reached down and lowered it to a murmur. Her tiny breaths filled the silence.
He listened as her soundless breathing became a rhythm. Her rhythm.
The Yankees would have to wait.
Author: Emily Todd Carter
Genre: General, M-S UST
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I think there's a conspiracy of men at 1013 that like to go around
reading fanfiction and suing people. Right.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Mulder watches as Scully drifts to sleep on yet another never-ending car ride.
PLEASE REVIEW!!!
They passed another cow.
And another cow.
And yet another cow.
She had grown weary of the seemingly monotonous procession of cows, had tired of it miles ago, and, in lieu of opting to initiate a conversation with her apparently enraptured-by-the-Yankees-game-on-the-radio-partner, she closed her eyes.
And they passed a cow again.
The darkness behind her eyelids danced with explosions of green and yellow. The plains. The hay. A black spot… undoubtedly a cow. Useless.
And so they drove onward, forward, into Hell knew where. Hell being her partner, as, per usual, he had decided on informing her of their travel plans before naming a particular destination. She shrugged mentally, recalling his words.
Got your overnite, Scully?
Good. We'll be back by morning.
Sighing, she reached for the map, catching his peripheral glance as she unfolded its awkward sections and attempted to pinpoint their location. Somewhere south of somewhere north. Whatever.
Did it really matter?
She returned the map to the glove compartment, struggling for a moment with its papers. He looked in her direction once more, keeping his eyes off the road only as long as he needed in order to realize her exasperation.
"Sunflower seed?"
She didn't reply, offering a terse smile and slow refusal with her eyes. He nodded, rolling down the window to spit a shell into the passing wind. He closed it once more, silence pervading the car.
"Shouldn't be much longer, Scully."
She made no acknowledgement, lying her head upon the seat once again. He continued driving as she drifted in and out of consciousness. White line. White line. Yellow line.
"Wake me when we get there, Mulder."
No response. Another silo from his window. Another picket fence. Another chance to say something, anything, before she drifted off, away.
The radio became a subtle monotone as she slept.
Her partner quietly reached down and lowered it to a murmur. Her tiny breaths filled the silence.
He listened as her soundless breathing became a rhythm. Her rhythm.
The Yankees would have to wait.
