Title: Two Shots Author: Daydreamer Author E-Mail: Daydream59@aol.com Rating: G Category: VA - implied MSR Spoilers: None Archive: Yes, please. Feedback: Yes! Please! Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Television Network, etc. They are wonderfully brought to life by David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. I will make no profit from this, and neither will Fox if they sue me, for I am poor and have nothing material they can profit from. Summary: Mulder is reminded of Scully's importance in his life when a routine pursuit goes awry. Two Shots "There he goes, Scully!" Mulder called, as he took off after their suspect. Why did they always have to run? He winced slightly as he thought of the pain his feet would be in after running in dress shoes. And he had on a tie. And a suit. And a FBI jacket. It was hot. It was uncomfortable. It was just plain awkward. And yet, here he was, once again, racing down the road as fast as his feet could carry him, chasing after some nameless robber who had the misfortune to hit an ATM in the middle of an FBI stakeout on a building across the street. He and Scully had drawn the unenviable job of chasing this guy down while everyone else remained in position, hoping they hadn't scared their real quarry away. Well, at least this time it was only a bank robber, not some mutant, or demon, or werewolf, or any other strange being he had run across during his time in the basement. Scully shouldn't have any trouble at all believing in this one. And maybe, for once, their reports would agree on what actually happened. This time, it was just an old-fashioned bad guy. Mulder's feet continued to pound the pavement, a small smile on his face as he thought of his partner's reaction to this one. She'd be happy they'd actually have another suspect they could prosecute. His smile was quickly erased as he increased his speed, each step jarring his ankles, the impact traveling up through knee to hip, a slight ache settling in his back. 'I'm definitely going to pay for this.' The fugitive rounded a corner and before he too, took the turn, he glanced over his shoulder to see Scully behind him. She wasn't as fast as he was, but she made damn good time for someone her size. And how the hell did she manage to run in those insane shoes she insisted on wearing anyway? He grinned back at her, lifted his hand in acknowledgment, then took the corner at full tilt. "SLAM!" A two by four connected solidly with his mid-section, he bent in the middle, his knees buckled, and down he went. He looked up in time to see the robber laugh as he turned and jogged on down the alleyway. Mulder lay on the dirty pavement, his arms wrapped protectively around his very sore stomach. His chest heaved and he panted as he gasped for breath and worked valiantly to fill his oxygen starved lungs. 'Come'on Scully,' he panted, 'come tell me I'm gonna be OK.' As if in answer to his thoughts, around the corner came his petite partner. As she raced over to him, her lips calling his name, he calmed. Even as he continued to struggle for air, he was amazed that her mere presence had such an effect on him. He was gasping, his mouth working as a fish out of water, fighting to bring in enough air. She knelt by him, looking for signs of injury, as she asked if he'd been shot. He shook his head, 'no,' and reached for her hand. "Wind," he forced out. "Go." He pointed with his chin in the directions the suspect had gone. She turned briefly to look down the alley, the refocused on him. She gave his hand a squeeze, then patted his shoulder, rose, and headed off again after their quarry. He lay there a few moments longer, trying to slow his racing heart, be sure he had recaptured his stolen breath. He rose slowly, unsteady on his feet. He half-stood, bent over with his hands resting on his knees, still pulling hard for air. Knowing he would have to pursue. Knowing he couldn't, wouldn't leave Scully alone to follow their suspect. He drew in several deep cleansing breaths then set off at a tentative jog. As his body began to settle into his runner's rhythm, his breath began to even out, and he was able to increase his pace, his battered feet protesting their continued abuse with each impact on the unforgiving concrete. He focused on the corner where he'd last seen Scully, knowing that as fast as she was, he was faster. Sometimes, it really paid to have long legs. And as long as she hadn't taken too many turns, he'd be able to catch her. He flew down the side street, glancing into each alley as he passed it, not seeing her. When he came to the next intersection, he looked left, then right, and sure enough, down the road, there was Scully, still in pursuit. He turned right, following her, and once again increased his pace. Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! The soles of his dress shoes pounded out an uncomfortable rhythm on the hard asphalt. As he started to gain on her, she came to another corner, made a hard right, and skidded around it. As she vanished from his sight, he heard a sharp "Crack!" "Crack!" as two shots were fired in quick succession. His body jerked involuntarily, as if he had been impacted. His froze, his mind shrieking a wordless 'Sculleee!' as his world threatened to come to an end. He pulled himself forward, forcing himself to move, redoubling his previous pace in an effort to reach his partner. He reached the corner, going around it with no thought to his own safety. He saw no sign of the perpetrator in the short glance he took of the alleyway, before his eyes were drawn to the spot on the pavement, just before his feet, where Scully lay, unmoving. He dropped down next to her, feeling for a pulse, checking her wrist, her neck, and was relieved to find that not only was she breathing, but her pulse beat strong. He ripped open her FBI jacket, saw where the slugs had entered the Kevlar vest, then pulled the vest apart to see her silk blouse unmarred beneath it. Unable to stop himself, he unbuttoned her blouse as well, as if he needed to see the unblemished skin to convince himself she was really all right. As he bared her to his gaze, he was reassured by the steady rise and fall of her chest as her lungs filled, then released, their vital air. Above her left breast, two small, quarter-sized red spots, marked the point of impact of the bullets. He reached out greedily to touch her, knowing that only through touch would he quiet the panic that still screamed in his mind. His fingers stroked her lightly, the barest touch on her soft skin. He lowered his head to her breast, his eyes closed, and gave thanks to a deity he no longer believed in, that this time, once more, she had been spared. He felt her hand touch his hair, and he lifted his head to find her blues eyes gazing at him, a slightly questioning look on her face. He smiled at her in relief, then looked down at where his hands were resting and flushed. Her mouth quirked in amusement as she took in his sudden discomfort, and he quickly lifted his hands from her breasts. He met her gaze again, and shrugged, then slowly drew her blouse closed over her. Long fingers that had been so agile, so facile, only moments before, were suddenly large and ungainly as he struggled to refasten the tiny buttons. She never moved, allowing him to restore her modesty, watching him through half closed eyes. When he was done, his hands smoothed the cloth, stroking slowly from collar, gently over her breasts, and finally resting at her waist. He looked at her again, once more reminded of how close he had come to losing her, this incredible woman who chose to be with him, who cared for him, who shared his life. She seemed to be waiting for - something. And as their eyes met and their gazes locked, he reminded himself that they always did best with unspoken communication. He shifted on the pavement, moving closer to her head, and lifted her part way into his lap. He cradled her gently in his arms, then bent slowly, and lowered his head toward hers. When there was but a mere hairsbreadth between them, he breathed, "I thought you were gone," and then his lips touched hers, slowly caressing, a whisper of a touch. He pulled back fractionally and she reached up, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking the faint hint of new growth beard there. She tugged slightly and he obeyed, coming down again to meet her lips. The kiss was longer this time, deeper, more intense. He pulled away again, and looked down to see her smiling. "I can't afford to be gone, Mulder." She smiled, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. "Who'd keep you out of trouble then?" End Daydreamer