Title: Fleeting Encounter
CLASSIFICATION: Scully/Reyes slash.
Answer to a first line challenge over at http://srrmb.proboards18.com/index.cgi
SUMMARY: None. Spoils easily.
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to Chris Carter, FOX and/or 1013.
Let no one tell you otherwise: Dana Katherine Scully is a vixen with a capital 'V'.
As cold air wafts in through the half-open window I glance back at the couch where Monica is lying curled up in a fetal position, her breath slow and steady at last. God knows she needs that sleep after all she's been through.
When Monica turned up on my door step a few hours ago I was prepared to kill whoever caused her unbridled despair. But all she was able to press out in between her sobbing and trembling was that she had requested a two weeks leaf of absence and wanted to move back down to New Orleans after that. I would have taken that as a joke but her sullen eyes told a different story.
So instead I held her, tried to steady her shaking body and let her drench my shirt with tears. My mind was racing through possible scenarios of what might have happened but I couldn't think of anything that would make Monica want to run away. She was fearless, tough, intrepid and seeing her like this was incredibly unsettling. It made me wonder if there was real evil in the world. If so she must have witnessed it firsthandedly.
A while later I finally felt her body relax; the sobbing subsided and she started to talk. Her voice was a whisper, laden with emotion and every time she paused I was afraid she wouldn't proceed. When she finished she angled her eyes up at me while her head remained bowed toward the cushions. "Do you remember last week, when Dana came into the office to get those files on that serial killer in Montana?" I nodded. How could I not with the act she had put on that day, though only in retrospect did I realize just how sleazy she really had been. Little had I known she'd intended to get into Monica's pants, not mine.
Monica was mute again, her eyes sought out mine but I couldn't meet her gaze. I felt like I had let her down somehow, like there had been something I should have done to prevent Dana's unflinching onslaught, but there hadn't been any warnings and I hadn't protected her. Feeling the weight of her gaze on me I looked up at her, surprised to see a faint smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "John," she said, "there was nothing you could have done to stop her. She got what she wanted because I let her, because I was too stupid to realize what she was doing. She played me for all I was worth, but only because I didn't stop her."
Halfway through the last sentence tears started rolling down her face again and I brushed them away. I wanted to take away her pain more than anything else but I couldn't and I knew it. Dana had gotten what she wanted, had feigned interest in Monica that went beyond the sexual aspect and Monica had fallen for her act, had fallen for her.
There is light in the building across the street and I stare at it, trying to make out the figure behind the curtain. It's a woman I realize when she moves away from the window and outside on the balcony. I wonder what her story might be, why she decided to leave the comfort of her apartment and step out into the cold of this November night with only a shirt on. Maybe she got hurt, too, maybe she hopes that physical pain will dull the emotional pain. Or maybe the late hour is making me more maudlin than usual.
I hear a soft snoring from behind and turn around. Monica appears to be sleeping peacefully, but I don't let her softened features deceive me. Her dreams can hardly be placid.
There is no vindication for what Dana has done to her nor any emollient to take away the pain she put her in. Did I say Dana was a vixen? Scratch that. Dana Katherine Scully can only be the devil herself.
Feedback to or
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Joliemoi