Catching up on the drabbles, sorry for the delay all.-JW
The Kindness (or not) of Strangers-Drabble #29
Blood trickles down his dark skin, and I can taste it trickling into my mouth. Our weapons are leveled point blank, and something inside of me is screaming that this is madness. I don't move. He wants the strange weapon, the ice pick, but I won't give it up. I've played his games; I've been his puppet, no more. I need to save my mother, and this is the only collateral I've got.
I sneer despite the stinging wounds. "You shoot me and you'll never find it."
Stitches-Drabble #30
"Those stitches should fix you up."
Its not the first time that Scully has ever been pressed up this close to me, studying some wound I've managed to have inflicted on myself. Her fingers are feather light against the puckered skin, and its all I can do to not squirm away from her doctor's touch, to push her away from me with a brush off and low mutters about her mothering me.
Her standing there so close was far more dangerous than any head wound could ever be.
Summer Cold-Drabble #31
I was trying to be helpful. I set the Kleenex and hot tea on her desk. Scully barely gave them a glance.
"I hate you." It had been her on again, off again litany all day as she sneezed and coughed behind her computer.
"I'm sorry you got sick." It hadn't occurred to me going from the frozen Arctic Circle to mild DC would give my partner a cold. I had barely had so much as a sniffle since childhood.
"You know, maybe you should take the day, Scully, head home, rest up."
"Hate you."
"OK, or just sit there and be miserable."
Road Trip-Drabble #32
Crump's blood covered my shirt, my hair; I could smell it in my nostrils. I'd vomit if I could muster the energy to do it. One, piss-ass assignment to drive around farms in Idaho, and I'd spent hours on the road with a man whose head had exploded just feet away from the very edge of the California coast.
I want to jump into the Pacific, to wash it off, cleanse my soul of all the death I had seen. Scully is silent beside me. I slip her the keys of the purloined vehicle.
"Next time, you drive."
