Relief
By Kuma
E-mail Snowfox4@bellsouth.net
Disclaimer I don't own Scully, Mulder, or Skinner. Fox and Chris Carter have the rights. (Although it would be cool to own them ) However, I do own Litson and any other characters that aren't related to the X-files. Litson is a place I made up in my own little mind. If there is any like resemblances to my made up town or people, it is purely a coincidence.
Author's note I have just recently gotten into the X-files "phase". Sorry if the characters don't seem anything like themselves. I'm only basing it on the very few episodes I have seen and all the fanfiction I have read.
Feedback This is my first attempt at X-files fanfiction, however, not my first attempt at fanfiction itself. (I have written many Buffy fanfics, which I enjoyed writing). This being the case, I would love feedback. If you want to flame me, that's fine too. I'm just asking that you do it in constructive criticism. ^_^
I inhaled slowly. I could feel my lungs stretching to accommodate the mass intake of oxygen. Just as slowly, I exhaled through my mouth. I let my heavy eyelids fall, enclosing my vision in complete darkness. Yet, it seemed, sleep just didn't want to come to me tonight.
Images raced through my brain. The case, the evidence, the autopsy, all fragments of my day, never settling on one scene. They were flipping through my mind like I would much do to the television to see what was on. Just barely getting a glimpse of each scene.
I took another deep breath and tried to relax my body. I thought about how I'd rather be in the soft confines of my bed. However, like many times before, I was stuck in a motel bed. The hardness of the mattress, the thin cotton sheets, and comforter that felt like it had been starched could do nothing for my aching muscles and tired body. I decided that I would never take my own bed for granted anymore.
I concentrated on my sense of feeling to occupy my mind. To think of something else besides the grueling case. I concentrated on how the rough cotton fell upon my toes, traveling up my bare legs. The unwelcome feel was overtaken by the soft fabric of my thick cotton shorts and large cotton shirt. My neck and head rested on the firm pillow. Both of my arms rested on my stomach, creating slight pressure there. I let out a sigh. It was an old technique I had learned in college to help me sleep when I was stressed.
Finally, I could feel the familiar heaviness as exhaustion and sleep sank in. My body, as well as my mind, felt tired. A smile played across my lips as sleep started to take over.
Instantly, I bolted awake at the sharp ring of the hotel phone. I considered not answering it, but I knew who it was. If I were to let it keep ringing or take it off the hook, eventually, that person would be right over, gun in hand, to make sure I was alright. I let out a grunt as I reached over and grabbed the phone.
"Hello?" I answered coldly. I glanced at the illuminated clock radio. It was only eight thirteen.
Mulder and I had flown out late the previous evening on what Skinner had said to be urgent. It wasn't an x-file, but another mass murderer. The Litson police need the help of a very good profiler and hopefully good pathologist. Skinner wasn't entirely happy about the x-files, but he knew that Agent Mulder was one of the best profilers that the FBI had. He knew that Agent Mulder and I made a good team and had a ninety-five percent solve rate.
Despite how hard I tried, I couldn't sleep on planes. So, I entertained myself by reading over the police reports and looking at photographs while my partner slept soundly beside me. We arrived at the Salt Lake City, Utah, airport about four in the morning. From there, we had to drive an hour and a half south east to Litson. I didn't complain when Mulder insisted to drive. I tried to sleep in the car, I really did, but the road was just to bumpy to sleep. So, I had decided to just watch the scenery go by.
When we had gotten to Litson, it was almost six. Mulder checked us both into the motel and gave me half an hour to get ready. Mulder had dropped me off at the small funeral home there. Litson was a small town and didn't have any sort of lab, so the body was being kept there for now. Chief Davis was already there and had an unexpected surprise waiting. They had found another body about three this morning just outside of Litson. I had two bodies to examine, but I ultimately decided to ship the bodies to the FBI forensic lab where I could do extensive testing and autopsies.
"Did I wake you?" the masculine voice on the other end questioned me. Immediately, I felt guilty for being so cold earlier. It wasn't his fault I was tired.
I let out a sigh. He always woke me up. Sometimes at all hours in the morning to discuss evidence and his half cracked theories. "What did you need, Mulder?"
"I wanted to know if you wanted to get some dinner."
I laid back down and stared up at the ceiling, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. "Don't you ever sleep?" I inquired, avoiding his offer.
"Do you eat?" He countered.
"Yes, Mulder. I do eat." I answered simply.
"You haven't ate anything since lunch before we left D.C." Mulder accused. He was right.
"Mulder, my eating habits are non of your concern." I knew it sounded ungrateful, but I was tired. In situations like this, sleep usually won over before hunger.
"Come on, Scully." His voice pleaded into my ear. "I'm paying."
I didn't answer. He was paying? He must be desperate. I remember him once telling me that he hated to eat alone. He had eaten alone after Samantha disappeared and his mom pulled away. He told me that he had often went over to the Gunmen's place to "offer his services" but it was really just to be in the company of others.
I decided that I would rather eat with him than have him eat alone. "You wouldn't be paying for it," I said smiling. "You'll just add it on to our expense report." I knew full well he had done it in the past.
His answer came whispered and unexpected. "I won't tell if you won't."
Was he serious? No, that can't be. He was just flirting lightly with me, like he used to. Like he did when we first worked together. Recently, I noticed that the flirtation had grown close non-existent. To be honest, I miss it. It reminded me that under the tough exterior that I had built, I was still a woman. However, I dismissed this comment just like the others.
I got out of the bed. I wasn't entirely mad that I got out of the bed, either. It wasn't all the comfortable. "I'll be ready in five." I told him and hanging up the phone. I flipped on the lamp and walked over to the small wooden dresser and opened my duffel bag that sat on top. I hadn't really brought anything to go out in. I had brought just two suits that were laid over the chair, a few pairs of jeans to wear under my scrubs, and a few simple blouses.
I figured we wouldn't be here that long anyway. At least I wouldn't. After a through examination of the crime scenes with Mulder tomorrow, I'd be heading back to Washington to do the autopsies.
I pulled out a dark pair of stretch blue jeans and a light blue button up blouse. I slipped out of my pajamas, folding each piece as I took it off. I grabbed a bra out of my bag and put it on. I put my blouse on first, then I slide the jeans over my legs and up my hips, taking care to tuck in my blouse. I buttoned up my blouse, leaving the top two undone, low enough to show my cross, but not low enough to show anything I didn't want anyone to see.
I pick my brush from my bag and walked to the small white bathroom. I flicked on the light and looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't wearing any makeup. I had taken that off whenever Mulder had dropped me off after I finished the examinations at six-thirty. I didn't feel like putting any on, so I just ran the brush through my hair, straightening it from the mess it had been.
I walked back to my bag, shoving my brush inside to exchange them for socks and sneakers. I slipped the soft cushions over my feet, followed by my white sneakers. I put the holster that was on the dresser on and walked over to the night table where my gun sat. I put it in the holster and grabbed my jacket. I shrugged it over my shoulders just as I heard a knock at my door.
By Kuma
E-mail Snowfox4@bellsouth.net
Disclaimer I don't own Scully, Mulder, or Skinner. Fox and Chris Carter have the rights. (Although it would be cool to own them ) However, I do own Litson and any other characters that aren't related to the X-files. Litson is a place I made up in my own little mind. If there is any like resemblances to my made up town or people, it is purely a coincidence.
Author's note I have just recently gotten into the X-files "phase". Sorry if the characters don't seem anything like themselves. I'm only basing it on the very few episodes I have seen and all the fanfiction I have read.
Feedback This is my first attempt at X-files fanfiction, however, not my first attempt at fanfiction itself. (I have written many Buffy fanfics, which I enjoyed writing). This being the case, I would love feedback. If you want to flame me, that's fine too. I'm just asking that you do it in constructive criticism. ^_^
I inhaled slowly. I could feel my lungs stretching to accommodate the mass intake of oxygen. Just as slowly, I exhaled through my mouth. I let my heavy eyelids fall, enclosing my vision in complete darkness. Yet, it seemed, sleep just didn't want to come to me tonight.
Images raced through my brain. The case, the evidence, the autopsy, all fragments of my day, never settling on one scene. They were flipping through my mind like I would much do to the television to see what was on. Just barely getting a glimpse of each scene.
I took another deep breath and tried to relax my body. I thought about how I'd rather be in the soft confines of my bed. However, like many times before, I was stuck in a motel bed. The hardness of the mattress, the thin cotton sheets, and comforter that felt like it had been starched could do nothing for my aching muscles and tired body. I decided that I would never take my own bed for granted anymore.
I concentrated on my sense of feeling to occupy my mind. To think of something else besides the grueling case. I concentrated on how the rough cotton fell upon my toes, traveling up my bare legs. The unwelcome feel was overtaken by the soft fabric of my thick cotton shorts and large cotton shirt. My neck and head rested on the firm pillow. Both of my arms rested on my stomach, creating slight pressure there. I let out a sigh. It was an old technique I had learned in college to help me sleep when I was stressed.
Finally, I could feel the familiar heaviness as exhaustion and sleep sank in. My body, as well as my mind, felt tired. A smile played across my lips as sleep started to take over.
Instantly, I bolted awake at the sharp ring of the hotel phone. I considered not answering it, but I knew who it was. If I were to let it keep ringing or take it off the hook, eventually, that person would be right over, gun in hand, to make sure I was alright. I let out a grunt as I reached over and grabbed the phone.
"Hello?" I answered coldly. I glanced at the illuminated clock radio. It was only eight thirteen.
Mulder and I had flown out late the previous evening on what Skinner had said to be urgent. It wasn't an x-file, but another mass murderer. The Litson police need the help of a very good profiler and hopefully good pathologist. Skinner wasn't entirely happy about the x-files, but he knew that Agent Mulder was one of the best profilers that the FBI had. He knew that Agent Mulder and I made a good team and had a ninety-five percent solve rate.
Despite how hard I tried, I couldn't sleep on planes. So, I entertained myself by reading over the police reports and looking at photographs while my partner slept soundly beside me. We arrived at the Salt Lake City, Utah, airport about four in the morning. From there, we had to drive an hour and a half south east to Litson. I didn't complain when Mulder insisted to drive. I tried to sleep in the car, I really did, but the road was just to bumpy to sleep. So, I had decided to just watch the scenery go by.
When we had gotten to Litson, it was almost six. Mulder checked us both into the motel and gave me half an hour to get ready. Mulder had dropped me off at the small funeral home there. Litson was a small town and didn't have any sort of lab, so the body was being kept there for now. Chief Davis was already there and had an unexpected surprise waiting. They had found another body about three this morning just outside of Litson. I had two bodies to examine, but I ultimately decided to ship the bodies to the FBI forensic lab where I could do extensive testing and autopsies.
"Did I wake you?" the masculine voice on the other end questioned me. Immediately, I felt guilty for being so cold earlier. It wasn't his fault I was tired.
I let out a sigh. He always woke me up. Sometimes at all hours in the morning to discuss evidence and his half cracked theories. "What did you need, Mulder?"
"I wanted to know if you wanted to get some dinner."
I laid back down and stared up at the ceiling, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. "Don't you ever sleep?" I inquired, avoiding his offer.
"Do you eat?" He countered.
"Yes, Mulder. I do eat." I answered simply.
"You haven't ate anything since lunch before we left D.C." Mulder accused. He was right.
"Mulder, my eating habits are non of your concern." I knew it sounded ungrateful, but I was tired. In situations like this, sleep usually won over before hunger.
"Come on, Scully." His voice pleaded into my ear. "I'm paying."
I didn't answer. He was paying? He must be desperate. I remember him once telling me that he hated to eat alone. He had eaten alone after Samantha disappeared and his mom pulled away. He told me that he had often went over to the Gunmen's place to "offer his services" but it was really just to be in the company of others.
I decided that I would rather eat with him than have him eat alone. "You wouldn't be paying for it," I said smiling. "You'll just add it on to our expense report." I knew full well he had done it in the past.
His answer came whispered and unexpected. "I won't tell if you won't."
Was he serious? No, that can't be. He was just flirting lightly with me, like he used to. Like he did when we first worked together. Recently, I noticed that the flirtation had grown close non-existent. To be honest, I miss it. It reminded me that under the tough exterior that I had built, I was still a woman. However, I dismissed this comment just like the others.
I got out of the bed. I wasn't entirely mad that I got out of the bed, either. It wasn't all the comfortable. "I'll be ready in five." I told him and hanging up the phone. I flipped on the lamp and walked over to the small wooden dresser and opened my duffel bag that sat on top. I hadn't really brought anything to go out in. I had brought just two suits that were laid over the chair, a few pairs of jeans to wear under my scrubs, and a few simple blouses.
I figured we wouldn't be here that long anyway. At least I wouldn't. After a through examination of the crime scenes with Mulder tomorrow, I'd be heading back to Washington to do the autopsies.
I pulled out a dark pair of stretch blue jeans and a light blue button up blouse. I slipped out of my pajamas, folding each piece as I took it off. I grabbed a bra out of my bag and put it on. I put my blouse on first, then I slide the jeans over my legs and up my hips, taking care to tuck in my blouse. I buttoned up my blouse, leaving the top two undone, low enough to show my cross, but not low enough to show anything I didn't want anyone to see.
I pick my brush from my bag and walked to the small white bathroom. I flicked on the light and looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't wearing any makeup. I had taken that off whenever Mulder had dropped me off after I finished the examinations at six-thirty. I didn't feel like putting any on, so I just ran the brush through my hair, straightening it from the mess it had been.
I walked back to my bag, shoving my brush inside to exchange them for socks and sneakers. I slipped the soft cushions over my feet, followed by my white sneakers. I put the holster that was on the dresser on and walked over to the night table where my gun sat. I put it in the holster and grabbed my jacket. I shrugged it over my shoulders just as I heard a knock at my door.