#had fun!

It was too loud-- shrieks, shudders, cries, shots, screams, danger, dangerdangerdanger--

She was trapped, there were things around her, in her, on her. Clinging to her skin-- her raw, shredded, bruised, aching skin. They wouldn't go, they wouldn't give way, they wouldn't stop touching her, she needed to escape--

She fell over, clumsy, desperate. Charged upright, fled, fell into a corner, then another, then another. Banged against a more fragile surface. Returned, banged again. Escape, escape, escape--

Leaped, noise, pain, tearing, burning, faster, escape--

Sped off into the dark on all fours.

*-*-*-*-*

Scully woke on the ground four nights later, bolted upright as the smell of blood saturated her senses. It was dark, too dark-- there was someone on top of her, she was wrapped in something. Lyle Parker, Marlon Zites, lycanthropy, Manitou, werewolves--

"Scully, Scully, don't move. It's me, Scully."

Mulder.

She stopped, sinking into the ache of suspended animation. Her body heaved and trembled. She hadn't felt this weak since....

He was quiet, holding her with gentle force as she began to cry, logical brain clinging to rational assurances, battered soul dissolving in exhaustion.

He continued shushing her until the woods lit up with voices, friendly calls swarming around their enclosed circuit.

*-*-*-*-*

"There was a full moon." Mulder carefully sat down, handed over a takeout container, kept his eyes trained on hers as she digested his theory. "The nurses said they heard an, an explosion from your room. Could've sworn an animal had broken in and couldn't get out. By the time they arrived, it had jumped back through the window."

"But that's not what you believe."

He set his cup aside-- a perfunctory purchase, to go with hers. "You said you don't remember what happened."

Scully looked down, slid a finger over her shredded nails. "No. But... Mulder, how could...."

"I think... I think you were bitten. And that you," he paused, shifted beside her, "turned."

Her body throbbed. She needed to scrub off organic forest matter from head to heel. She needed to retreat back to Georgetown, away from nervous glances and inescapable conclusions. "Mulder...."

I'm afraid.

Mulder exhaled, shuttled closer. For once, he had nothing to say.

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic.

For headcanons:

Mulder will never be able to stash old or dirty laundry somewhere without her knowing about it.

Scully suddenly has an advantage in hand-to-hand combat.

Depending on the type of werewolf she is, she could either control her shape shifting like a superpower or be a victim to its-- or the moon cycle's-- whims.

I like the idea of Mulder turning her back into a person with an item of her clothing-- a gesture of love that reaches her humanity.

Scully will never live down the cannibalistic Queequeg comparisons.