Work Text:
You feel so powerful now with your pen or keyboard, don't you? Oh yeah, Padgett is dead alright. That’s right, he reduced his work to ashes, and then he ripped his own heart out of his chest. Kind of gross actually come to think of it. But you, you’ll stay and be burning the midnight oil. You can’t help it, your will fails you each time you should step out. Every. Damn. Time. Chris did a pretty lame job with it. It’s all on you now and you know it. It’s only your duty. You have to step in.
Can you feel it? The power running right through and out of you? You too can rip Scully’s heart off all you want in a snap of the fingers. It’s never been so easy. Your bare hands too can dig right into her heart and bully it as well if you want to. Actions are only up to you. Metaphorically or physically. Up to your obsessed, insatiable and somewhat nasty little mind. Sick.
What will it be then now that Scully urgently hugs her arms around his neck, relievedly sobbing over his shoulders, her heartbeat throbbing heavier and faster than ever before, and her sharp nails aguishly scaring his fresh flesh? What will it be now that Mulder, racing Scully's heartbeat and shaking, has just found his partner lying unresponsive on his apartment floor with an opened bleeding heart? (What a beautiful metaphor by the way!)
Oh yeah, you are all mighty and powerful now. You find yourself playing God.
Padgett said it himself, ”Agent Scully is already in love.” What will you decide then? Is the die cast? What’s the next move? Will the action come from Mulder or from Scully? Will it be harsh and nasty? Maybe she would cup the back of his head and reach out for his mouth while her other hand reach out for his balls. Soft and tender? Maybe he would lift her up in his arms and nurse her in his bedroom, spooning her, cuddling her and whispering sweet words in her ear whole night. Anguish and heartrending? Maybe he’d apply pressure on her wound and beseech her to stay alive and to not leave him in hell all alone without her by his side. Why, yes, just maybe. Funny and humorous? Would they decide to get three sheets to the wind, brain burn into strip poker and end up tail not so much between legs and back to square one: harsh and nasty sex? It could happen. Anything could happen. And often magic happens.
As a fanfictions avid reader, I thank you for keeping playing God.
As a disturbed writer whose mind won’t shut up for a single minute, I want to thank you from taking the time to read my attempts at playing by heart.
Oh yeah, we ought to keep reading and writing, for Mulder and Scully’s sake. Chris Carter, you horrible, horrible man …