~The X-Games~

An X-Files/Hunger Games Crossover Fanfic

DISCLAIMER: All characters from the X-Files are property of Chris Carter, 10/13 Productions, and Fox Studios. The Hunger Games is the property of Suzanne Collins and the Scholastic Publishing Company. I do not own any of the plots, characters, or other material from the aforementioned TV show/books.

Author's Note:

Hi everyone!

Chapter three is done! I got into a writing mood and got this done a lot faster than I thought I would… anyway, enjoy!

And also, if you have the time, tell me what you think! :D

- Piper Kalena West

Chapter Three

The Cornucopia

Scully's POV

I take the lead as we make our slow but steady way down the beach. Mulder is dragging a little, despite his earlier claim of having never felt better. I sigh under my breath. As much as I'd love to find a safe spot to curl up and sleep, I know we can't ignore the pressing issues of sustenance and weapons. Without them there is no way we can win the Games. And if we don't win…

"Scully," Mulder's voice is barely audible, and I can from the tremor in it that he is far from recovered. His fingers slip from my hand as he falls to his knees, his breathing broken and harsh. As I turn toward him, I see a small trickle of crimson blood drip from the corner of his mouth.

"Mulder!" I drop beside him, taking his face gently between my hands. I can tell that there's something truly wrong with him by the way the air rasps in his throat and catches in his chest, his jaw tightening as if with pain every time he draws a breath. I'm instantly afraid that there's something hurt inside of him; something I missed in my hasty visual evaluation of his injuries.

Mulder's eyes flicker shut, his body shaking worse than ever. I put my arm around him, gently lowering him onto the sand. With tentative fingers I wipe the blood from his lips, and he lets out a soft groan at my touch.

"Mulder," I say, trying to sound professional despite my desperation, "I need you to describe what you're feeling right now. Where are you hurt?"

Mulder takes a deep breath and simultaneously lets out a yelp of pain. His eyes fly open, full of piercing agony. For a moment he just lies there, shaking and gasping, and then he shifts his head so that he's looking right up into my face. He gives a painful smile. "Everywhere."

I fight against my initial reaction-which would be to scream at him-and instead fix him with an intense glare. "You know that's not what I meant."

He considers for a second. "My chest."

I sigh. That's what I was afraid of. Carefully I move my hands down his face to his neck, sliding them over his collarbone until they rest against his chest. I apply gentle pressure to each rib in turn, but it's not until I reach the middle of his right rib cage that he cries out again, sitting up so fast that we bang heads.

"Ouch!" I fall back, blinking the sand out of my eyes. Mulder groans, lowering himself back onto the sand with a wince.

"Yeah, I think you found the place," he says weakly.

"It might be broken," I inform him, my heart sinking, "Which means…"

"Which means I should be strapped into a hospital bed for a few weeks?"

I sigh. "Somewhere along those lines."

For a long time we just sit there, each lost in our own thoughts. At last I rise to my feet, using one foot to gently pin him to the ground as he attempts to follow suit.

"Ah, c'mon, Scully…"

"Stay here," I say firmly, "I'll be right back."

"Like hell…"

I cut him off, bending down so that my face is only a foot above his. "Jay Mulder, if you try to follow me, I will personally see to it that…" but I can't really threaten him; not in his current state.

He seems to sense my weakness, a half-hearted grin lighting up his handsome features. "Yeah, yeah. Unless you tie me to a tree, I'm coming with you, wherever you might go."

I glare at him, raising one eyebrow at his stubbornness. Maybe I should tie him up. "Okay—race you!" I say, jumping up and racing away down the beach. Let's see him follow me now! But to my utter frustration and astonishment, I soon hear footsteps on the sand behind me. I glance over my shoulder, cursing under my breath. Even injured and with only one boot on, my partner is fast.

"Wait up, Scully!" he practically yells after me. How he can yell with a broken rib sure beats the hell out of me.

Great, I grit my teeth and slow to a brisk walk. Now everyone in the arena knows where we are. It isn't long before Mulder catches up to me, panting and pale but infuriatingly smug.

"Hi," he gasps, and I can tell he's trying to sound as composed as possible, "You're… fast."

I snort, refusing to look at him. "You're going to kill yourself."

"No," he pants, "I'm not going to make it that easy for you."

Despite his joking tone, this casual comment makes me furious. I turn to face him, my eyes locking on his drained face. "Do you think I want you to die, Mulder? After everything we've been through…" I feel something hot and wet flowing down my cheeks, and I lift a hand to my face. I'm crying. Dammit. Now Mulder's going to think I'm just a stupid coward.

"Scully," Mulder's voice, weak as it is, is suddenly full of concern. Of course this only makes me cry harder. I put my hands over my face and turn away from him, forcing down the sobs that threaten to push their way up my constricted throat. "Scully?" Mulder's hands settle on my shoulders, his breath warming my cheek and jaw. His voice is little more than a whisper in my ear, his lips brushing my hair as he speaks. "We should go together. You watch my back, and I'll watch yours. Just like always."

I nod, turning and pressing my face against his muscular chest. My tears mix with the saltwater on his shirt, dripping down onto the white sand. I reach up and rest my hands against the sides of his neck, closing my eyes as I lean into him. He responds by wrapping his arms firmly around me, pulling me in even closer. I feel his cheek come to rest against the top of my head, his breath stirring my still-damp and sandy hair. I smile, and for a few seconds we just stand there, lost in the moment.

He breaks the embrace first, pulling his hands up so that they rest on my shoulders. I look up, deep into his glowing eyes. He brings one hand up to run it gently across my cheek and over my jaw. I shudder under his touch, warmth creeping into my veins.

"You ready to kick some Tribute ass?" he asks, and I nod. He pulls away from me then, his face full of anticipation. "Lead on," he grins and takes my hand as we start off down the beach together.

. . . . . .

We reach the Cornucopia at dusk. As I had expected, there is nothing left near the middle, and virtually nothing around the edges. I try not to let my disappointment show, telling myself that it's better that we didn't get involved in the initial bloodshed, the signs of which are all around us. Blood stains the sand and dirt, splashed across the leaves of some low-hanging branches. A couple of bodies lie pale and lifeless beside the great golden horn, their bodies ravaged by our savage opponents. I shudder and look away.

Beside me, Mulder is silent. I can almost feel the guilt pouring off of him in waves, surrounding him like an aura. I give his hand a squeeze, trying to convey in that one simple gesture that it isn't his fault. None of this is. It wasn't like he planned this when he tracked Rosetta into that parking lot, and I can't blame him for what happened as a result.

"Looks like we're a bit late to the party," Mulder says.

I sigh. "Let's take a look around. There might be something worth taking."

We head off in different directions, quickly making our way around the Cornucopia. There really is nothing left, not even an empty container or piece of rope. I'm just about to give it up and suggest we find a place to sleep for the night when Mulder's voice sounds behind me.

"Scully, come see this!" he sounds excited, his voice cutting through the dusk air. He doesn't seem to realize that shouting will bring down every creature within half a mile or more, and of course I can't shout back to tell him this, so I take off running toward the sound of his voice.

"Mulder, what is it?" I find him crouched over something halfway hidden in a thicket, his body partially blocking the object in question. As I approach, I realize it's the body of a young girl, her brown eyes wide and staring and her cold bloodless fingers still clutching a silver knife. I stop, my own eyes widening as I look down at her.

Mulder turns toward me, his eyes sparkling. "She has a backpack. And she's carrying a weapon as well… wait, two weapons. A bow and arrow set, and a knife."

I stare at him as my shock fades and reality sets in once more. I give a sharp nod, reaching down and prying the knife from the dead girl's fingers. For a moment I can't help but wonder what her name was, and who she left behind in her District home. But it doesn't matter. She's dead, and we might as well take what she no longer needs.

As soon as we've gotten her weapons and pack off, we leave the dead girl and set off into the woods. Mulder carries the knife and pack, I the bow. I have never tried archery before, but I figure it can't be all that different from shooting a gun. And even if it's completely different, at least I have good hand-eye coordination and target skills.

"Here," Mulder says breathlessly as we reach a dark, well-hidden thicket of lush tropical plants and black ivy, "Let's… stop." He sinks to his knees, his breathing coming in short gasps.

"Mulder…" I slide down next to him, looking up into his face. He looks pale, drained. Our little excursion has taken the last bit of fight out of him.

He turns to face me, forcing a small smile. "Well, at least my chest feels a bit better. I think walking actually helped."

I raise one eyebrow. Maybe that rib's not broken after all. "That's good. Let's set up camp here, and see how you are in the morning," I pause, licking my lips nervously as I quickly scan the darkness that has fallen around us, "Who knows what comes out at night in these woods? It'd probably be safest in a tree." Thank God I took the time to read the Hunger Games, or we'd already be dead.

Mulder nods. "What about cougars or climbing creatures, though? Or rabid bats?"

I give him a tired smile. "We'll be fine. If you don't think a tree is a good idea, we can crash right here. And if the other tributes find us, then…"

"Then we're completely screwed," Mulder sighs, lowering himself onto the ground and putting his head on the backpack, "At least it's warm tonight. No need for a fire or tent."

"Mmm-hmm," I move myself closer to him, trying to get comfortable on the jungle floor, "Goodnight, Mulder."

"'Night," he mutters. A moment later he's fast asleep, his face peaceful as he slips into unconsciousness.

Mulder has only been asleep for a few minutes when what I assume is the Capitol's anthem sounds directly above us. I look up in surprise, but Mulder doesn't move. High above us, through the heavy branches that hang over our heads, I see a screen showing the faces of the tributes who died today. There are six of them, including the girl we took the pack from. Her name was Tessa Rivers, District 8. She is preceded by Sigma Ray (District 5), Ark Jakin (District 7) and Kyser Winston (District 6) and followed by Damian Ash and Riara Candi, both from District 9. The anthem ends, and the screen disappears.

Sighing, I turn over and try to stay awake. Although I'd never admit it to Mulder, I'm terrified right now. What kind of horrible creatures have the Gamemakers placed in these woods for the sole purpose of destroying us? As much as I'd love to sleep right now, I know I can't. Propping myself up on one arm, I prepare to wait out a long, torturous night's vigil.