This story is rated PG for right now. It might change later depending on
where exactly I go with this story.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we still do not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek.
Sloan Bishop, Brian Jackson, and Jeff (I don't have a last name for him yet), along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: Sometime during the 5th season.
By the way, a quick thanks for all who reviewed. THANKS!! I absolutely love reviews, I adore them, I live for them, they make my day. So keep them coming!!! Even if it's to tell me something you didn't like, or how you would do something different, or even how you want this story to go, cause unlike most of my other stories, I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this. But it's gonna be a fun trip ... even if it's to no where.
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
Brian Jackson slammed his back against the wall and tried to stand motionless, but his chest was heaving. He concentrated on his breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. The blood pounded in his temples. He closed his eyes and finally calmed himself.
"The target is in sight." With the sound of the familiar voice over the com-set, Jackson's eyes shot open. A new wave of adrenalin flew through his body. "Twenty feet from your position and closing."
Jackson gently ran his finger over the cold trigger. He took a deep breath. He was nervous. For the first time this entire mission he wasn't sure if he could go through it. Doubt. Doubt made you weak. So did a conscience. And right now his was nagging at the back of his mind.
Jackson's jaw clenched. No, he told himself. He had to be strong. He had to complete the mission. The ends justified the means.
"Get ready," the voice spoke again.
His body tensed once again. He could feel the individual muscles tightening in his back. He was really going to go through with this.
"Wait for it ... wait for it ... NOW!"
Without a second thought, Jackson dove around the corner and pulled the trigger. He clenched his eyes as he heard the woman's scream. He landed hard on the ground, and he could feel the cool of the gun underneath him.
"Brian!!"
Trying desperately to suppress his laughter, he grabbed his super-soaker and scrambled to his feet. He tried to run, but it was too late.
"You little brat!" Sloan threw her now wet hair out of her face then tackled the boy to the floor.
"You're wet, you're wet! Get off me!" Brian yelled through bursts of laughter.
"Brian?" the voice over the com asked.
Finally getting the upper hand, Sloan made sure the young boy was sufficiently pinned underneath her before she grabbed the walky-talky. "Jeff is this you?"
"Uh ..." came the reply.
Sloan gripped the button and yelled into the black box. "It is! You little creep! You are so gonna get it!"
Brian wriggled under the brunette and took a few sniffs of the air. "Do I smell cinnamon?"
Sloan dropped the walky-talky on the back of Brian's head. "Ouch!"
She pushed herself off of the boy. "I was on my way to drop off some cinnamon rolls at Mr. Skinner's." She held her hand out and helped Brian off the ground.
"Why on earth did you make that creepy guy cinnamon rolls? You should be making them for us."
Sloan twisted her tee-shirt and rang out the water in the cloth. It dripped to the carpeted hallway. "He's not creepy," she said trying to rub the puddle of water into the carpet with her bare foot, "and I did make some for you. Get Jeff. They're in my kitchen on the counter."
"Cool!" And with the super-soaker under his arm, the boy disappeared, running down the hall.
Sloan rolled her eyes. She had known those two boys for over five years. After babysitting the two friends when they moved onto her floor, she knew she would never be rid of them. But she wouldn't have it any other way. She loved those two pains in the neck, and always would. They were the troublesome younger brothers she never had.
Grabbing the bag of cinnamon rolls off the ground, she made her way to Skinner's door.
"He's not creepy," she told herself stopping in front of his door. She went to knock, but stopped, realizing he wouldn't be at home. Shrugging, she put the bag on the floor in front of his door.
She would have to wait to give him the eggs. She really didn't think it would be safe to leave a couple eggs on the doorstep of someone's apartment. Although, with boys like Jeff and Brian, she wasn't sure how safe it would be to leave the cinnamon rolls.
Finally deciding to just wait until she saw him again, she grabbed the bag, but the door flew open.
She actually screamed, jumping back away from the door. Tripping over her own feet she fell to the floor.
"Oh my geeze!" she exclaimed over exasperated. "What are you doing?"
Completely unfazed, Skinner stood looking down at the heap on the floor. He grabbed the edges of his robe over his pajama pants, and covered his bare chest. "I was getting my paper. What are you doing?" Skinner reached his hand out and helped Sloan off the ground.
"I was going to leave these on your doorstep." She held up the now crinkled bag.
Frowning, Skinner took the bag. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
Sloan laughed. "It's alright. I just wasn't expecting you to be here. You're never here this late in the morning."
"No, usually I'm not. I'm taking some time off," Skinner said off- handedly, noticing Sloan's clothing. "Why are you all wet?"
Looking down at her wet clothes Sloan laughed. "I had a run in with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber."
A loud crash grabbed both Skinner and Sloan's attention.
"They're gonna destroy my apartment!" Sloan exclaimed and made a mad dash for her door.
Skinner was left standing in the hallway alone holding the brown paper bag. "Not in my wildest dreams would I have guessed what went on here during the day." Tucking the newspaper under his arm, Skinner turned back to his apartment. He opened the bag peered inside. "Huh." He pulled out a piece of the soft pastry and popped it into his mouth. "And she can cook."
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skinner, Mulder or Scully. They are owned by 1013 Productions and Fox. X-Files and all related characters were created by Chris Carter, and we still do not like him for killing off our beloved Krycek.
Sloan Bishop, Brian Jackson, and Jeff (I don't have a last name for him yet), along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: Sometime during the 5th season.
By the way, a quick thanks for all who reviewed. THANKS!! I absolutely love reviews, I adore them, I live for them, they make my day. So keep them coming!!! Even if it's to tell me something you didn't like, or how you would do something different, or even how you want this story to go, cause unlike most of my other stories, I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this. But it's gonna be a fun trip ... even if it's to no where.
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
Brian Jackson slammed his back against the wall and tried to stand motionless, but his chest was heaving. He concentrated on his breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. The blood pounded in his temples. He closed his eyes and finally calmed himself.
"The target is in sight." With the sound of the familiar voice over the com-set, Jackson's eyes shot open. A new wave of adrenalin flew through his body. "Twenty feet from your position and closing."
Jackson gently ran his finger over the cold trigger. He took a deep breath. He was nervous. For the first time this entire mission he wasn't sure if he could go through it. Doubt. Doubt made you weak. So did a conscience. And right now his was nagging at the back of his mind.
Jackson's jaw clenched. No, he told himself. He had to be strong. He had to complete the mission. The ends justified the means.
"Get ready," the voice spoke again.
His body tensed once again. He could feel the individual muscles tightening in his back. He was really going to go through with this.
"Wait for it ... wait for it ... NOW!"
Without a second thought, Jackson dove around the corner and pulled the trigger. He clenched his eyes as he heard the woman's scream. He landed hard on the ground, and he could feel the cool of the gun underneath him.
"Brian!!"
Trying desperately to suppress his laughter, he grabbed his super-soaker and scrambled to his feet. He tried to run, but it was too late.
"You little brat!" Sloan threw her now wet hair out of her face then tackled the boy to the floor.
"You're wet, you're wet! Get off me!" Brian yelled through bursts of laughter.
"Brian?" the voice over the com asked.
Finally getting the upper hand, Sloan made sure the young boy was sufficiently pinned underneath her before she grabbed the walky-talky. "Jeff is this you?"
"Uh ..." came the reply.
Sloan gripped the button and yelled into the black box. "It is! You little creep! You are so gonna get it!"
Brian wriggled under the brunette and took a few sniffs of the air. "Do I smell cinnamon?"
Sloan dropped the walky-talky on the back of Brian's head. "Ouch!"
She pushed herself off of the boy. "I was on my way to drop off some cinnamon rolls at Mr. Skinner's." She held her hand out and helped Brian off the ground.
"Why on earth did you make that creepy guy cinnamon rolls? You should be making them for us."
Sloan twisted her tee-shirt and rang out the water in the cloth. It dripped to the carpeted hallway. "He's not creepy," she said trying to rub the puddle of water into the carpet with her bare foot, "and I did make some for you. Get Jeff. They're in my kitchen on the counter."
"Cool!" And with the super-soaker under his arm, the boy disappeared, running down the hall.
Sloan rolled her eyes. She had known those two boys for over five years. After babysitting the two friends when they moved onto her floor, she knew she would never be rid of them. But she wouldn't have it any other way. She loved those two pains in the neck, and always would. They were the troublesome younger brothers she never had.
Grabbing the bag of cinnamon rolls off the ground, she made her way to Skinner's door.
"He's not creepy," she told herself stopping in front of his door. She went to knock, but stopped, realizing he wouldn't be at home. Shrugging, she put the bag on the floor in front of his door.
She would have to wait to give him the eggs. She really didn't think it would be safe to leave a couple eggs on the doorstep of someone's apartment. Although, with boys like Jeff and Brian, she wasn't sure how safe it would be to leave the cinnamon rolls.
Finally deciding to just wait until she saw him again, she grabbed the bag, but the door flew open.
She actually screamed, jumping back away from the door. Tripping over her own feet she fell to the floor.
"Oh my geeze!" she exclaimed over exasperated. "What are you doing?"
Completely unfazed, Skinner stood looking down at the heap on the floor. He grabbed the edges of his robe over his pajama pants, and covered his bare chest. "I was getting my paper. What are you doing?" Skinner reached his hand out and helped Sloan off the ground.
"I was going to leave these on your doorstep." She held up the now crinkled bag.
Frowning, Skinner took the bag. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
Sloan laughed. "It's alright. I just wasn't expecting you to be here. You're never here this late in the morning."
"No, usually I'm not. I'm taking some time off," Skinner said off- handedly, noticing Sloan's clothing. "Why are you all wet?"
Looking down at her wet clothes Sloan laughed. "I had a run in with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber."
A loud crash grabbed both Skinner and Sloan's attention.
"They're gonna destroy my apartment!" Sloan exclaimed and made a mad dash for her door.
Skinner was left standing in the hallway alone holding the brown paper bag. "Not in my wildest dreams would I have guessed what went on here during the day." Tucking the newspaper under his arm, Skinner turned back to his apartment. He opened the bag peered inside. "Huh." He pulled out a piece of the soft pastry and popped it into his mouth. "And she can cook."
