AUTHOR: Fialka <firstname.lastname@example.org>
ARCHIVE: auto-archives ok, others please ask.
DISCLAIMER: Hmm. Do Mulder and Scully still belong to You-Know-Who?
SUMMARY: Scully in 155 words. With a bit of Mulder, too.
For Scullyfic, who made me do it.
He was a crazy man, thin of neck and wild of eye. She put her hair up, wore white lace. It wasn't for him, but it was.
He never saw her in lace. Never saw till she was lost. Among the stars, in a boat on a lake. She thinks she dreamt. She knows she was cold.
A giant with stubbed-off fingers, smelling of graveside flowers.
A howl at the moon, a trinket for truth. One drop, two, life ticks and is lost. He was wired, she was fresh. They are tired now, surrounded by white.
She sees at last but he will not look. It ends in ice, not fire, her mystery inside.
In the absence of light, they nearly forget. Choice is an illusion. A single word, dared.
He takes the stars, puts the crazy man to rest. She breathes, fine, her ear against his heart. No lace, no white. This is enough.
Merry Christmakwanzikkahyule. Fi
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