CSM/Scully wtf. Haha, geriatric OTP!

Title: Smoke
Series: The X-Files
Pairing: CSM, Scully; implied CSM/Scully and Mulder/Scully
Prompt: a thinking woman sleeps with monsters @ 31_days
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 264
Notes: Set during En Ami.
Summary: Scully imagines long-fingered hands, clothes on the floor, all of her practiced veils and pretences falling away like ash from a cigarette.

Dusk. Taillights. The smell of smoke.

Scully's heading northbound on the Upstate Expressway while the Cigarette-Smoking Man philosophizes to his open window.

"You have always been drawn to powerful men, but you fear their power. It's interesting. You would die for Mulder in the blink of an eye, yet you cannot love him."

"Interesting, indeed," says Scully, drily. "A cold-blooded killer turned pop psychologist."

She almost laughs.

-

The danger posed by this venture is never lost on her.

Scully feigns sleep in the passenger seat while they snake through the backroads of Pennsylvania, unflinching even when his gloved hand strokes her hair.

Eventually, she conks out.

She cannot, however, account for how she ended up in someone else's bed - and a new set of clothes.

-

Dana Scully is an intelligent woman. A doctor. A scientist. An FBI agent.

She can identify deception as easily as she diagnoses pathology.

But, if her cognition has a limit, it is this: the inability to delve within the city of the self and to fuse that strange intangible knowing with what is real.

Scully hates that.

-

Only at night and only alone can she release the the tenuous binds of logic and go someplace higher - where thought and emotion mesh.

She imagines falling into bed at midnight, doing things she hasn't done in years.

Imagines long-fingered hands, clothes on the floor, all of her practiced veils and pretences falling away like ash from a cigarette.

-

But Scully returns to D.C. alone. Defeated.

(And she never really could get the smell of smoke out of her clothes.)