Title; Last Thoughts
Author; Rika (Started/Finished 09/26/99; finished 9:57 PM)
Rating; PG- It's just not a family thing, and it had blood in it.
Codes; M/S, ***character death***, tissue warning. *sniffle* Scully's POV.
Summary; I really don't need one for a fic this short, do I?
Disclaimer; 1013, FOX, and C.C. own everything to do with X- Files, but this story is mine, yadayadayada…
Archive; Ooooh! Pleeeaaaase?! Tell me where @ fizjazz@ican.net
Feedback; *puts on puppy dog eyes* Pretty pretty please with sugar on top? fizjazz@ican.net
Author's Notes; I know it sounds… I dunno… stupid? But I almost shed a few tears writing this.
I got the idea from a dream, only I wasn't Scully, and I wasn't dying. I was just lying on my bathroom floor with the light dripping water on my shoulder condensed from steam from the hot- water shower. I have no idea where this dream came from, so don't ask.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I lay on the thick, woolen bath mat on the floor of my bathroom. I could see the steam hanging around the ceiling, soft rays of twilight highlighting it through the cracked blinds.
The glass was spiderwebbed around the bullet hole, tiny cracks radiating from it, perfectly round.
The shower curtain was pulled half open, water still dripping slowly from the shower head, evidence of my recent shower.
The room was still heated and humid, and a slight mist hovering in the top of the room. I could see the tiny water droplets on the walls, water condensed from the steam.
The plush white rug tickled my back. I stared at the bullet hole in my window. It was evidence that I was going to die.
I had just finished my shower, the uneven and ridged glass window in front of me as I stepped out of the shower, reaching for my towel to wrap around myself. No one could see me, except for maybe a vague feminine form. Whomever had shot me had been waiting for that vague shape.
I didn't feel the pain; my body had numbed itself. I could see the dark, sticky fluid flowing freely from the bullet wound. My left hand was lying limply on the wound, my right fallen at my side.
The room was slowly cooling, the vapour condensing on the walls. A single drop of water fell from the dome- shaped light cover. It dripped on my shoulder, causing the skin to flinch involuntarily.
My eyelids grew heavy, I could see the growing red stain on the bath mat around me, creeping onto the floor, mingling with small pools of water.
My hands felt cold. I could see that the skin on my arms, legs, and chest was pale from blood loss. I knew I was to die.
The light was fading, as was my consciousness, the life- force within me flickering and dying down, until the glow was only just visible in my barely moving chest.
I felt that my mouth was hanging open limply. I knew my eyes were glazing in death.
We could cure many diseases. We could -with time- heal wounds that could kill. We could mask pain. We could even prolong life, but death was an ever present force, stalking us. Waiting. Waiting like a vulture, waiting for it's chance to descend upon us and feed.
Like anyone, I had dreamed of a world where the monster of death had no claws, no teeth. It could not take you from the land of the living.
I could almost feel the hot, remorseless breath of that creature on the back of my neck whispering 'It is your time' in my ear.
I could almost feel as it sank it's teeth into my neck.
I could almost feel as it took my life away.
The room's twilight became darker, deeper, but I knew that it was not the fading light.
It was my fading life.
The steady dripping of water from the shower head seemed to echo hollowly, like I was in a deep cave. The cool, wet feel of the water dripping from the light onto my shoulder felt like it was happening from far away, like I was feeling it happen to someone else.
The twilight faded to black, a soft moan escaping my lips. I was almost gone, almost.
My thoughts called up pictures of Mulder. Mulder running, Mulder smiling, Mulder giving me his patented expression, the expression that made him seem like a young, lost, ten year old boy. The expression that made him look like a hurt puppy. The expression that had captured me.
The soft sound of metal scratching against metal outside of my bathroom door pulled me away from him. Gave my heart a little strength.
The door swung open, revealing Mulder standing in his trenchcoat. I couldn't see his expression, save in my mind. He was probably stark white, terror for me flashing in his eyes.
He leaned down by me, knowing that I would die no matter what he did.
I vaguely felt an arm go under my shoulders, barely felt it when he gently pulled me into a half sitting position, head hanging limply at his shoulder. My hand fell away from the gaping bullet wound in my stomach.
I tasted blood flooding my mouth, dripping slowly out of it's corner, falling on my chest. Mulder's eyes were alight with pain. Even though I was completely naked, he paid no attention to my body. None, only my face. He was looking deep into my eyes, pleading with me not to leave him. I tried to say his name, but the words fell noiselessly from my lips.
Mulder spoke, his voice harsh and raspy, choked with unshed tears and emotion.
"Don't die, Scully, don't leave me."
I tried again to say his name, to say goodbye, but my mouth wouldn't obey. I could almost hear Death's silent, triumphant laugh in my head.
The room faded to Mulder's face. I had only a few seconds more. Mulder clutched me tight to his chest. I felt a single, salty tear fall from his eye onto my cheek. He slowly rocked me back and forth, whispering "Don't leave me."
My heart slowed. I felt it stop, again from far away, farther with each second. Before all consciousness was lost, I still felt him rocking me back and forth, whispering, barely audible;
"Take me with you… Take me with you… Take me with you…"
He kept whispering this over and over, again and again, but I never heard it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sorry, I woke up morbid this morning. I haven't decided who dunnit, so use your imagination.
Ah, yes. Mulder walked in on her because she had not shown up for work that morning, and she was not answering her cell or home phone, nor had he heard from her that she was going to be late for work or that she was going to be absent.