I've never done a stream-of-consciousness fic before, and I decided that I'd just try to do one. Just for shits and giggles. Why the hell not, right? The worst that could happen is that I get flamed.
Please don't flame me. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?
Disclaimer: Fill in the blank yourself. You know the drill.
Your brother Bill has never quite taken a shine to me. As a matter of fact, I would go so far as to say that he detests every particle of my body. That he loathes me for simply existing. That he hates me and everything I stand for– at least where you're concerned. Whenever I'm around him (particularly if you're making one of your rather frequent visits to the hospital) I'm inclined to fear for my life. I always get the feeling that he's about to lunge for my throat, about to rip out my jugular with his teeth or strangle me with his bare hands.
I respect him for it. Whenever you're in the hospital, I tend to feel the same way– that is, perpetually on the brink of a murderous rampage. On several occasions, it has taken several grown men to physically restrain me from doing just that. All it takes is one look of you lying helpless, red hair spread around you like a glowing fiery halo, weak and vulnerable– I'm off, ready to kill to save you. I feel unstoppable in my hatred, in my rage, and in my fear.
Unstoppable. That is the word that most adequately describes our relationship. From the moment that you first walked into my office, from the moment when you posed your first scientific theory to counterpoint my rather more outlandish one, from the moment that your eyebrow first made its ascent towards the skies in reaction to my ideas– we have been unstoppable. You and me. Mulder and Scully. Fox and Dana. Together we have battled towards the heart of conspiracy. Together we have fought for The Truth.
I'll admit: There are days when I wake up and I think, "Hell. There really isn't any way that this is worth it." Those are the days when you're dying of cancer or you've disappeared for months on end. Those are the days when I very nearly pull a Bill. Those are the days that I very seriously consider taking my Bureau-issued gun and putting a bullet through my skull. Those are the days that I don't really feel unstoppable.
Because often I consider that question that you posed to me– ever consider stopping? Just stopping, and living a normal life?
I said no when you asked me. Because a normal life would mean nothing if you weren't with me.
You are what makes me unstoppable, Scully. When you walked into my office seven years ago, you almost immediately became my weak spot. You are the person whose demise would make it impossible for me to continue. I've lived through my sister's abduction, through my father's death, through my mother's suicide. I've lived as everything I've ever loved has been taken from me– except you.
Unstoppable. It's a strong word, isn't it? And we are strong together.
Gotta love that good, ol' fashioned schmaltz. Can't you just feel it dripping down? I certainly can. How disgusting.
Oh, but I love it so.
Review please? If you can be bothered?