She insisted on driving, not trusting his assertion that he was no longer drunk, that the sheer knowledge of the information Kurtzweil had supplied him with had sobered him up. He slid into the passenger seat of her car, relieved that the seat was already slid back as far as it could go, no need to maneuver an additional obstacle as he clambered into it, his limbs slightly heavy with intoxication (because, of course she was right).
It dawned on him that he should feel sorry for her, that she doesn’t transport any other passengers who need to pull the seat forward. But he is feeling sanguine tonight, optimistic, like he can conquer the world. And perhaps it is the alcohol lingering in his bloodstream. But he relishes in the fact that the passenger seat of her car has been designated for him.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re actually going, or am I just supposed to guess?” It’s three o’clock in the morning, and she is smirking at him. There’s the slightest hint of irritation in her voice, but he knew she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be. She is choosing him. And if he wasn’t so focused on getting her to look at dead bodies, he would show her exactly how thankful he is that she is choosing him, especially at this hour. Especially after everything else has been taken away from him.
“Bethesda Naval Hospital,” he tells her, as if it was obvious.
She puts the car in drive and heads north.
He’s pretty sure he hates Texas.
Texas is filled with vampires that woo his partner and drug his pizza, with buildings that house bombs that were never attempted to be defused. He now adds unmarked tanker trucks and unidentified helicopters to his loathsome mindset of Texas. And bees.
Yes, he would be incredibly grateful if he never has to step foot in Texas again.
They’re out of breath, panting, still, though the car is in motion and the cornfield is out of sight. He can just make out her face from the light of the moon; her eyes are wide, her hair is mussed, and she licks her lips, finally catching her breath, bringing herself back to reality. She huffs out a final audible sigh and brings her chin to her chest, closing her eyes, and reaching her hand out over the center console.
He takes it, gripping his other tighter on the steering wheel, and silently makes a promise, offering a squeeze. You and me, Scully. It is just the two of them on this deserted, two-lane highway, the closest airport still hours away. He knows he needs to get her back to D.C., and he knows that her fate rests in the hands of OPR. But he doesn’t care. Right now, it is just about this moment.
They have evaded a catastrophe. They are alive. They have each other. The two of them. Always the two of them.
Maybe Texas isn’t so bad, after all.
If he thought he hated Texas, then he can’t even begin to fathom the detestable opinions he has of Antarctica.
His only thought is to get to her, to find her, to finish what they started in his hallway. He doesn’t know how to drive a Sno-Cat, so he’s winging it. But he’s desperate, and learning how to drive a Sno-Cat on the fly seemed a hell of a lot faster to get to the coordinates that the Well Manicured Man gave him, as opposed to simply running through the snow, so he drives.
He keeps glancing over at the seat next to him, expecting her to be there, as if this weren’t a rescue mission, but rather just another expedition in their quest for the truth. She would have screamed at him already, knowing full-well that he doesn’t know how to operate one of these things, how he could get them killed. And he would convince her that it’s all part of the experience, one that she never expected to have but won’t regret having. He can picture her scoffing at him, rolling her eyes and furrowing her brows, calling him insane or ridiculous or incorrigible. But she would trust him enough to go along with him anyway.
He has to find her.
He had told her that she saved him, kept him honest, made him a whole person, that he owes her everything. It’s the closest to and admission of love as he could get. He’s not sure exactly what he would have done if the bee hadn’t stung her. He would have kissed her, he’s certain. But would he have taken it further? Would she have let him? Would it have been honest, a true act of love, no ulterior motives? Would he have slept with her in an attempt to make her stay?
He hates that it took a trek through Antarctica to consider the implications of the potential shift in their relationship. He hates that he doesn’t feel completely honorable.
Perhaps it’s better that they were interrupted. Perhaps he’ll finally get his act together, face his demons, and make good on his promise of oweing her everything, giving her the life she deserves. Perhaps.
“What now, Scully?”
They had walked away hand-in-hand, poised to fight. Together, always together. Now, they sit in her car, unsure of how to proceed.
“Well, I don’t think they’re shipping me off to Utah anymore. Nor are they accepting my resignation, apparently.” She sounds amused, sardonic, even, at the memory of a temporary, almost permanent separation. He knows, frankly, that she is beyond relieved.
But they still don’t have the X-Files.
They’ve been here before, he’s realized. No X-Files, an uncertain future. But even then, when they were no longer partnered, they still had each other.
Her face, cheeks, forehead, chin, is bruised and scraped and pale, lips severely chapped, recovering from the effects of hypothermia. But she is still beautiful, painfully, breathtakingly so. Her hand was soft, despite the cuts, and it felt warm in his. The wound from where the bullet grazed his temple is still dark, bloodied, but otherwise he appears unscathed.
They’re an interesting pair, he thinks. They have enough scars combined to mark almost every inch of a singular body. He sometimes feels that way, anyway. They are essentially one, the two of them. They cannot survive without the other, not really, so it’s only logical that when one of them is marred, so is the other.
He’s tried to push her away many times, to prevent any more mutilations for either of them. Just now, he’d told her that he wasn’t going to let her die because of his cause, even though she, to a certain degree, already has. He told her to go be a doctor. And yet, here she still is. Regardless of what lies ahead, of what their future holds, she will always choose him, he’s discovered. He looks forward to the day when he can wholly, completely do the same.
“Let’s just go home.” She nods, understanding exactly what he intends, what he’s expressing. He will choose her, too, though he knows he will falter. She starts the car.
Right now, home is anywhere she is, wherever they are. In whatever capacity.
can we have a movie where a chinese teenager stumbles into a european medieval fantasy land. the wypipo are awestruck by her bravery and advanced technology and in turn she learns the ways of their people. then a lurking evil threatens the white tribes and she along with her newfound friends have to step in to save them. once she heroically defeats the threat she is showered with praise and gets the guy. it is a story of adventure, friendship, and self-discovery
I’m sure this has been pointed out before but since no one I know ever seems to have noticed it and dragonball is relevant again, I’d like to direct you attention to john connor
Yeah, I know terminator judgement day came out in 91, same year trunks was introduced, but honestly Im pretty sure thats exactly why this IS toriyamas fanart of adult john connor. I mean
1. Why else would he have that stupid hair cut and jacket?? Unless he started as fanart of this little shit
2. Hes travelling back in time to fight robots bent on the destruction of all of humanity. Almost like toriyama didnt have time to write his fanfic of terminator 3, so he just made it an au conveniently taking place in the dragonball universe
3. Future trunks is fathered through a one-night stand, his dad dies before he can meet him, and hes raised solely by his now significantly more badass mom and her badass friends
Also want to point out that both these mothers are convinced that their one and only son is humanity’s last hope in the war against the machines.
And it wouldnt be the first terminator reference in toriyamas work either. Namely major metallic from dragonball (who also turns out to be a robot) and android 16, whos skull looks like… ok a skull, but so does the t1000s, and android 16 gets the t1000 treatment, going from villian, to being reprogrammed by the human resistance to aid in the fight against the other androids.
Point of this all is: this dude
Is just the older, buffer version of this greasy little shit
Below the cut, you’ll find 100 gifs of Hayden Panettiere as Kirby Reed in Scream 4. All GIFs were made by me - do not claim them as your own. Please do not include these GIFs in GIF hunts or other GIF packs, but feel free to like or reblog this post and use the gifs for roleplaying purposes. GIFs are 245x160; some are duplicates with colour variations.
This one time at my local used DVD store I got one of those box set cases that could hold 4 discs, which contained 2 random and unrelated movies and the bonus discs to 2 completely unrelated movies. Also, under the paper cover thing there were a bunch more, all of them for the grossest-looking porn I've ever seen.