title: at the stars

author:Kristin



Rating: PG

Classification: Vignette, MSR

Spoilers: none

Disclaimer: Theyre not mine...blah, blah, blah. They belong to

 Fox and Chris Carter...yadda, yadda, yadda...

Distribution: Anywhere, but please let me know?:)

Summary: What if the dynamics of the relationship do affect

 the work? Would it be a problem they could even control? 

Feedback: Sil vous plait! kristinshortcake@yahoo.com











Were back inside.  The house smells.  Old newspapers are
strewn 

across the carpet.  

I see our suspect whip out the gun from beneath his leather

jacket. 

I see him rushing toward you, your back turned away

 from him, unsuspecting, your weapon covering his 

partner behind the screen door. 

Then I scream your name and you turn around.

 And I see you but not really you, the way you are at that 

moment.

 I see the Scully from this morning.  I see your face outlined


by your hair, glistening from the sunlight seeping through the


window of my apartment.  Youre leaning down over me, sitting 

beside me on the bed in my Knicks tee shirt, telling me softly


that its time to get dressed. We have got to leave for the

 office in forty minutes.  And you look beautiful.

If I had seen the Scully standing before me, poised to fire, 

the agent always in control of the situation, at the top of
her 

game, turning toward the suspect, I might not have done what 

I did.

You probably wouldve turned in time too.

But I didnt wait long enough to find out.

Its funny because at that moment all I saw was you getting up 

from the bed, walking into our bathroom.  I swear I could hear

 the water running, see you standing in front of the sink, 

the door half closed.  I could see the chair by the bathroom 

door, the pale blue shirt you wore yesterday draped across it,


your black pants folded neatly beside.  I could hear the crack


you made about arriving in separate cars to squelch any 

suspicion, brushing your teeth while I still lay in bed.

And I fired my weapon.

I cant see the guys face upon impact.  I cant describe his

 face at the second he realized that I had fired the shot that

 would end his life.

All I can see is the mix of shock and disappointment on your

 face.  Your cheeks are flushed as you turn away from him

 suddenly, shielding your face from the blood that splatters

 all over the yellow wall paper.

And when you turn back around you just stare at me with those

 confused, penetrating blue eyes.



There are those defining moments you have in your life. You 

cant describe them, but when one happens you know.  We both

 stood there for a few seconds.  The guys partner stood there

 too, not moving an inch.  And I remember thinking that this
is

 one of those moments.  Because what we swore to ourselves

 would never happen when our relationship changed...had.  

So now this scene is playing over and over again in my head. 

 Im looking at the road, but I can still see it.

 I can see your face as plain as at that exact moment.

  Theres this perpetual feedback loop you get every time

 you really mess something up.

  You wish you could take it back, but you cant.  And you

 torture yourself by playing it over and over and over again

 in your mind.  Like a bad movie...

And now youre mad at me for breaking protocol. 

And youre mad at yourself for being the reason I broke

 protocol.  

And theres absolutely nothing we can do to change the
situation

 that caused the problem.

And now this morning seems like it happened a long time ago.



I stare at the pavement ahead.

Maybe I should just drop you at your door.  

I should leave tonight.  I know this.  I should do whats best

 for you, leave tonight and vanish up the shore and never come

 back.  But I couldnt do that now if I wanted to.

I glance at the dash.

Its three oclock and were driving in your car.

And youre sitting there, gaze fixed out the passenger window.

Youre screaming out the window at the stars what you wont,

 what you cant tell me: Please dont drive me home.

What I want more than anything in the world right now is

 for you to turn to me and tell me all the places we could

 go, anywhere but here...

But you dont.  You dont say anything to me.  You just sit

 and watch the headlights passing on the road.

A long, long time ago...

Here we are now.

Foreign to this world, neither of us knowing exactly what

 to say.

Youre putting on a front. Both of us are, straight and

 composed. 

 I almost wish you would get mad at me, scold me for

 breaking protocol.  But we both made promises that couldnt

 hold, promises that nothing would ever interfere with work.

And Monday morning well both be getting sermons we could 

do without.

Could it be weve done something wrong?

We make the drive back to your place just before dawn.

And as much as you have thought about this, rationalized 

the reasons we should stop this while we can, prevent the

 problem from worsening...

You, Scully, always a beautiful contradiction, turn to be

 with those penetrating blue eyes that plead Please

 dont drive me home. Please dont take me home...

So I dont.

And we keep driving.



Blame us because we are who we are.

Hate us because youll never get this far.

And whod suppose you would go?

Ive already learned enough to know that.