TITLE: Most Wanted
RATING: PG for a little language
DISCLAIMER: Alex Krycek, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox Broadcasting, and to the actors who portray them. They are being used without permission, and no profit is being made.
DISTRIBUTION: Okay to archive
FEEDBACK: Welcomed at email@example.com.
SUMMARY: Challenge!Fic for the Haven "Rotting Your Brain" Challenge
This fic was written for sybils' "Rotting Your Brain" challenge: 155 - 300 words of "Any X character telling another X character why they LOVE a TV show." Thanks to syb for suggesting it. Real thanks, though, go to Spica. Were it not for her feedback, it never would have occurred to me to write anything besides smut. Sad, perhaps, but true.
In keeping with the terms of the challenge, this fic is 300 words exactly. So if I left any out, don't tell me now. ;-)
It's my own fault Scully got the drop on me.
Expecting Mulder, I opened the door at the peremptory knock and turned back into the room. The dismissive gesture would have angered him, made him careless.
Instead the door slammed behind Scully, weapon in one hand and phone in the other.
"Don't call the cops!"
An eyebrow, incredulous and faintly derisive.
"Do you know what'll happen to me in prison?" I let my voice crack. The hint of panic would have made Mulder feel powerful, overconfident.
Scully's face just freezes. "I know what happened to Luis Cardinale."
I keep my eyes on the phone, hoping I don't have to kill whatever poor bastard gets dispatched to her call. "Mulder--".
She cuts me off. "In the hospital."
Damn. "The information he wants..."
The pulsing theme of "America's Most Wanted" drowns out my words, and she shoots me a scornful glance.
"Hey, I love this show."
She rolls her eyes. Mulder would have...
Nodding at the TV, I lower my voice until she strains to hear over the host's strident introduction. "There. Coded message."
"John Walsh works for you people?" Stunned, she glances at the screen.
Her gun goes flying as my body slams hers to the bed.
"Nah. But you gotta love his leather jackets."
Tiny but not fragile, her body feels good pinned beneath mine, and the spark in her eyes isn't just anger.
"The 'Nereus,' dock 13, Friday night. Tell Mulder."
She gasps as I lean closer. "What--"
I silence her with a kiss. Then I roll away, grab the gun, and run.
She reaches the doorway just in time to see me drive off. She looks furious, but those lips parted under mine for an instant.
Hmm. Maybe I've been working on the wrong partner.
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