TITLE:  The Great Debate
AUTHOR:  TCS1121
FEEDBACK:  TCS1121@hotmail.com
URL:  http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/xfilesfanfic/
RATING:  PG
ARCHIVE:  As You Wish
KEYWORDS:  M & S
CLASSIFICATION:  Vignette, Post ep for "Monday."
DISCLAIMER:  1013 and FOX owns all the X-Files 
characters
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Written for the After The Fact 
Challenge List
http://www.after-the-fact.tripod.com/

~~*~~*~~*

SPECIAL THANKS:  To dtg for inspiration, and to 
Michelle Kiefer who keeps me from pulling at straws.

~~*~~*~~*


Summary:  "We've got to come up with some way 
out of this."

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"Shit, Scully."

"I know, Mulder..."

"It was your fault."

Scully sighed impatiently, "Assigning blame is childish." 

"I know, but it was still your fault."

"Fine.  It can be your fault next time."

"No-no, that's okay."

"Look, let's see if we can approach this from another angle.  
I-well, I have an idea."

"Is it your turn for an idea, Scully?  I've lost track."

"Feel free to jump in with any suggestions."

The fog was puffing up around their ankles.  Mulder looked at 
his watch and it was his turn to sigh.

"Okay, what's your suggestion?"

"Well, I think we've been going about this all wrong..."

"Skip over the obvious, will you?"  Mulder's knees were deep 
in the heavy mist.

"Well, so far, it's been either you or me trying to talk him down.  
But maybe somebody else is supposed to do it."

"Well you certainly pissed him off fast this last time.  He went 
for the buttons almost as soon as you started talking."  The 
cloud was up to Mulder's chest.  

"I started talking fast, because you started dying on me."  The 
top of her head was barely visible.  "Maybe we need Skinner to 
come in with us.  Maybe Skin..."

Scully was gone right before the fog covered Mulder's head. 

"Here we go again."

~~*~~*~~*~~*

"How many more wet beds, Scully?"

"When you start going to the budget meetings, then you'll have 
my sympathy...besides it was your fault this time."

"I know, I hate when it's my fault.  Seeing you hit, and not 
knowing
--not knowing we'll be meeting like this.."  Mulder shuddered.  

"It'll probably be my fault this time.  You'll be bleeding, and 
I'll be saying the wrong thing again..." Scully's eyes were 
shining, as the fog covered her shoes.

"We've got to come up with some way out of this."

"That's another thing, Mulder.  Where is 'this' anyway?  I mean, 
where are we?"  The mist rose to her belt buckle.

"This is where we come when the bank blows up!  Where the 
hell do you think we are? We don't have much time left. Scully, 
any ideas?" 

"Call in sick?  Don't come into work?"

"You're really grasping at straws, aren't you?"  Mulder smiled 
as he looked into her face.  The misty swirls were playing 
against her hair.

"How many times, how much more?  It doesn't get any easier."  

"I know.  I'll try calling in sick.  You try, too, okay?  And 
Scully...?

"Yeah?"

"Don't die."  She was gone; then he followed.

~~*~~*~~*~~*


"God damn it! You almost stopped breathing on me this time!  
Don't ever do that!  You hear me?!"   He pulled her hard against 
him.  His breathing was ragged and tears had collected in the 
corners of his eyes.  "Shit, that was close...shit..."  

"I'm sorry.  I'm sorry." Scully hugged him around his waist.

"It was supposed to be my turn.  My turn to get hit, your fault that 
he sets off the bomb.  Why did you step in the way?"  His lips 
pressed the top of her head, and his eyes squeezed shut.

"I thought if we changed the order of things..."

"Well it didn't work!  Tell me, next time...shit..."

"But maybe that's what has to happen."  The fog roiled at her 
knees.

"What do you mean?"  He didn't like the sound of this.  

"Mulder, has one of us ever -uh-gone first?"

"Gone first?"  Mulder scrunched his forehead and repeated, 
"Gone first?"

"Yes, has either one of us actually stopped breathing?  Gone 
blue?  Bled out?  Flatlined?"

"Of course we have.  Hell, Scully, a shit-load of dynamite will 
stop anything."

"No, I mean before the dynamite?"  Scully was wading in the 
chest-height fog.  "I don't think you've ever - you know-died in 
my arms before the final blast."

Mulder thought a moment, fanning the mist away from her face, 
"No, I think I was aware every time his thumb flipped the switch.  
You?"

"Yeah.  I'm pretty sure I was, too.  Of course, we've been 
through this so many times, it's all becoming one big blur."  
Scully's head was visible, but the rest of her was buried 
in the thick white blob.

"What's your suggestion then?"

"Well, I think we need to try something different."

"Talk fast, Scully."

"Okay, listen-I think you ought to let me go.  Let me take the 
bullet full force.  If I actually die before he sets off the 
explosives, then that may make a necessary change." 

Mulder reached down into the whiteness, and took her hands.  
Just like he had for the past several hundred years.  Or 
however long they'd been doing this.

"Nope."

"We've got to come up with some way out of this."

"Not that."

"Mulder..."

The mist swirled, and then it was morning.

~~*~~*~~*~~*

"Mulder..."

"Yeah, I know, Scully.  It was my fault this time."

"You shouldn't have lunged.  That threw his aim off.  He 
could have shot me dead-on if you didn't distract him."

"I can't do that.  Even though I don't know about these 
conversations when we're in the bank, I can't make myself 
do that.  Could you?"

"That's an idea.  I could make sure that I was close enough to 
get the full blast from his gun."  Scully tilted her head back as 
she envisioned the scene.  The fog was swirling at her feet.

"That's not what I asked.  I asked if you could let him blow my 
head off before the blast."

"When did you ask that?" she asked, stricken.

"Could you?" he repeated.

The fog stopped climbing, seemingly awaiting her answer.

"No."

The mist swirled but stayed low.

"Then, how could you possibly ask me to let you die?"

Scully smiled a sad half-smile and said, "I guess I thought 
you'd be used to it by now."

"It's always the first time, Scully. Every time we go through it, 
it's almost as if I know it's going to happen.  You feel it when 
you step into the bank, don't you?  I know something awful is 
going to happen, I even think I know there's a bomb, and I 
can't stop it.  I'm afraid for you, and I'm afraid for me."

"The feeling is getting stronger," Scully agreed.

"Maybe someone does have to die, Scully.  But it sure as hell 
isn't going to be you.  Not if I can help it."

"And it's not going to be you, either," Scully said.

The mist began to grow again, and Mulder took Scully's hands.  
She looked up and gently kissed his lips as the fog obscured 
her sight.

"What was that for?" he asked softly.

"Well, I figured that if something had to change to get us out 
of here, I'd rather it be something like this..." She wrapped her 
arms around him, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again.  

As the fog overtook them Mulder thought, 'This I can live with.'  

~~*~~*~~*~~*

END


In the great debate that has raged for centuries about what, if 
anything, happens to you after death, be it heaven, hell, 
purgatory, or extinction, one thing has never been in doubt--
that you would at least know the answer when you were dead.

--Douglas Adams , Dirk Gently's Holistic  Detective Agency

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