Fighting Time
By: Olivia
Georgetown
Monday, 7 a.m.
Scully pulled her car onto M Street heading towards her job at the FBI. Looking at the mass of cars in front of her that were not moving she slapped the palm of her hand against the steering wheel. The morning commute was the same as always.
Damn, she thought. No wonder people developed road rage. Sometimes it took all her energy not to just pull out her gun and start shooting people.
Damn, Mulder.
No, she quickly thought. Not damn Mulder, damn Diana Fowley. Okay and she was pissed at Mulder for trusting Fowley and not her. That woman was trouble. She was betraying them. She was working for the Smoking Man.
In frustration, and to take her mind off certain events, she hit the button to turn on the radio. Dance music started blaring out of the stereos. Scully normally didn't listen to dance music but there was something about the beat that complemented her frustration.
Scully rolled down her window and let the heat suffocate her. August in the city, gotta love it. And of course it would be in the middle of a heat wave that her air conditioner would die. She leaned her elbow on her door. She was going nowhere fast.
The beat of the music slowly made it's way into Scully's subconscious and she actually found herself tapping her hands to the beat. Soon she was singing to the lyrics. Her singing was not the greatest but she didn't care. She would never see the people in the surrounding cars again. Besides, almost all of them were lucky enough to have their air conditioning working.
Her singing grew louder.
I heard it on the sly
You're little one night stand
But I'm not blaming you
I've thought it over
And this time I will forgive you
But she's still hanging round
And now I just don't trust her
I think she crossed the line
And I'm ready if it's fighting time
What she gonna look like with a chimney on her
What she gonna look like with a chimney on her
What she gonna look like...
Scully saw something moving out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look at what it was. The song died on her lips. Her jaw dropped. She colored, despite the heat, at this embarrassing, un-Scully like behavior.
Unbeknownst to her the traffic had started moving again. Mulder had pulled up beside her and had been trying to get her attention.
"Hey, Scully," Mulder said with a grin, "You haven't sang since that time we were out in the woods..."
"Shut up, Mulder," was her only reply.
I hate Monday mornings, she thought.
By: Olivia
Georgetown
Monday, 7 a.m.
Scully pulled her car onto M Street heading towards her job at the FBI. Looking at the mass of cars in front of her that were not moving she slapped the palm of her hand against the steering wheel. The morning commute was the same as always.
Damn, she thought. No wonder people developed road rage. Sometimes it took all her energy not to just pull out her gun and start shooting people.
Damn, Mulder.
No, she quickly thought. Not damn Mulder, damn Diana Fowley. Okay and she was pissed at Mulder for trusting Fowley and not her. That woman was trouble. She was betraying them. She was working for the Smoking Man.
In frustration, and to take her mind off certain events, she hit the button to turn on the radio. Dance music started blaring out of the stereos. Scully normally didn't listen to dance music but there was something about the beat that complemented her frustration.
Scully rolled down her window and let the heat suffocate her. August in the city, gotta love it. And of course it would be in the middle of a heat wave that her air conditioner would die. She leaned her elbow on her door. She was going nowhere fast.
The beat of the music slowly made it's way into Scully's subconscious and she actually found herself tapping her hands to the beat. Soon she was singing to the lyrics. Her singing was not the greatest but she didn't care. She would never see the people in the surrounding cars again. Besides, almost all of them were lucky enough to have their air conditioning working.
Her singing grew louder.
I heard it on the sly
You're little one night stand
But I'm not blaming you
I've thought it over
And this time I will forgive you
But she's still hanging round
And now I just don't trust her
I think she crossed the line
And I'm ready if it's fighting time
What she gonna look like with a chimney on her
What she gonna look like with a chimney on her
What she gonna look like...
Scully saw something moving out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look at what it was. The song died on her lips. Her jaw dropped. She colored, despite the heat, at this embarrassing, un-Scully like behavior.
Unbeknownst to her the traffic had started moving again. Mulder had pulled up beside her and had been trying to get her attention.
"Hey, Scully," Mulder said with a grin, "You haven't sang since that time we were out in the woods..."
"Shut up, Mulder," was her only reply.
I hate Monday mornings, she thought.