***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

ARCHIVING: Link only, please!

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Un-Scully
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, Humor, Angst, MSRish, post-ep

Rated PG-13 for salty language

Spoilers for "Triangle"

Summary: Scully rants to herself, and deservedly so, following
the final scene.

Author's notes: Scully, we're seeing a whole new side of you ...
(and I just had to get Manic!Scully down in print ...)

Thanks: To Stacey, for a bitchin' beta. <g>

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Un-Scully
by shannono


God, I need a drink.

Yeah, yeah, I know. How very un-Scully of me. But I'm not feeling
very Scully-like at the moment, okay? And this un-Scully Scully 
needs a damn drink.

Sheesh. Just when I think my wayward partner can't possibly top
himself, he does. Ditched again, this time for a delusional jaunt
on board a ghost ship.

You know, just the fact that he wasn't doubled over with
seasickness should have clued him in that he wasn't ever really
on that ship. Much less me.

I saved the world? Yeah, right. He's just lucky I saved his
scrawny little ass again.

God. I don't even want to slow my brain down long enough to
think about the past day and a half. I feel like I've just 
survived a bout of multiple personality disorder.

Could I have *been* any more manic yesterday? Jesus, the whole
damn FBI already thinks I've lost my mind. That mad rant from
one end of the building to the other probably has them convinced
they're right.

And, oh my freaking God, did I really *kiss* Skinner?? What
the *hell* was I thinking? Was I even thinking at all?

Christ. I never thought I'd be so glad he's not my boss any
more. I don't think I could stand to look him in the eye long
enough to get through an "official" report on this.

I still haven't decided if it was even worth it. I mean, yeah,
I'm glad we made it down there in time to keep Mulder from
ending up as fish food. Even if that would have been one 
fantastic brand of karmic comeuppance for a man who spends
more time flushing his fish than feeding them.

But what the *hell* has gotten into him? I could forgive him
for running off after the ship in the first place; it's really
no worse than any of the other stupid things he's done before.
And he was so out of it when he first woke up that he probably
didn't even know what he was saying. All that crap about Nazis
and me being on the ship and ... and everything. I mean, it was
sweet and all, what he said about me being there with him and 
believing him and everything, and ...

Shit. Who am I trying to kid?

I could have gotten past all this; I really could have. Written
the whole thing off to a fevered dream.

But then he had to go and say *that*.

Great. He's completely off his rocker, obviously having no idea
what he's saying. And then he looks at me like that, all doe-eyed
and blurry-soft, and says he loves me.

And, damn it all to hell, I believe him.

After everything. After all he said, after the tallest tales he's
ever told -- which is saying a LOT -- all he has to do is look at
me like that and say something like that ...

And I believe him.

I tried to stay mad at him. Rolled my eyes, covered up how my
heart felt like it was pounding its way right through my chest
wall. Or maybe crawling up my throat.

I had to get out of there, and *fast*, before I did something
really stupid.

Like say it back.

Jesus.

I can't think about this any more. I can't. I can't deal with it
now. I'll think about it tomorrow ...

Stop mixing your metaphors, Scully. This is a "Wizard of Oz" 
moment, not "Gone With the Wind."

Okay, I'm talking to myself in the third person. Now I *know*
I need a drink.

I wonder if I've still got some of that rum left at home. I have
some OJ for mixer, or maybe I'll just drink it straight. Lord
knows I need something strong tonight.

And then maybe tomorrow, I can go back to being Scully.

Maybe.

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