Love Concurs All

(No, Love Conquers All. But I concur that when you commit homonymcide in your title, there's nowhere to go but up. I hope.)

By: Antoinette Bartley

 Rating:  Uh, PG, I guess.  It’s pretty clean ... (The formatting, however, is not. Learn about plain text. Then use it.)

Feedback:  Yes please!  Send me feedback!  This is my first short fic!  I need to know if it totally sucked so I never do it again!  

(It does. Don't.) It’s for your own protection! (If my eyes are bleeding, do you think it's too late? And my, my, look at all those exclamations. 

One might think you were warning us away.)

 
Archive:  Hell yeah!  Please do! (No. Not even if you were the only fanfic writer left on earth after the armageddon.) I’d love to see 

my work on others’ pages!  Just E-mail me so I know who has it, and where it’s going

so I can see, and please leave my name attached!  thanX! (Argh. More formatting woes.)

Category:  Mulder/Scully Romance

Keywords:  Shipper  (This ship is sinking, methinks ...)

Spoilers:  The Sixth Extinction II, just the end though.  Barely anything.

Placing:  Right after The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati

Disclaimer:  No, they’re not mine.  *sigh*  I don’t say any names in this

piece, but we all know that this is about Mulder and Scully.  Chris, they

don’t belong to me, they belong to you, 1013 Productions, and of course,

each other.

Summery:  A what, hu? (Suddenly she's Japanese?) A summery?  No such word is in my vocabulary ... (Or your spellcheck, 

apparently. Homonymcide Number 2.)

Author’s Notes:  I just thought of this at eleven o’clock last night (November 14, 1999). (I can't make the joke. I just can't. It's too easy.) 

I was so happy after “The Sixth Extinction II’ (Amor Fati, to those of us who care about canon.) that  I couldn’t go

to sleep, and I thought, “Hey!  Tomorrow I’m going to have to write a short fic, showing my appreciation to the all mighty (almighty, even) god, 

Chris Carter. Yeah, it’ll start out something like this .  ‘  (Periods and empty spaces?) And then, what I thought up sounded GOOD! (Humble, aren't we?)

 So I jumped out of bed, scaring the shit out of my poor cat, flipped on the lights and pulled out my trusty not pad (as opposed to her untrustworthy yes pad)

 that has one of my work-in-progresses called “If You Could Only See’ (how bad this fic is, you'd run screaming and never look back) (which by the way, 

I encourage you guys to  read when I’m finished with it) (in the year 2005).  So here I now sit at my un-trusty ::growls at comput
er:: “puter, who likes to talk back to me, at 5:30AM.  Oy.  So you guys BETTER enjoy and appreciate this! (Good God.)

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~XXXXXXXXXXX~

 Love Concurs All (Yes, I know it's a repeat, but it's still Homonymcide Number 3.)

~XXXXXXXXXXX~

She ran her fingertips over his full lips, this wonderful man that she had known for so long, (An appositive used incredibly badly.) looking longingly into her eyes, 

(She's looking at herself?) her gaze reflecting  his own. (Oh, I see. She's looking at herself reflected at him. Perfectly clear.) She looked down at 

her feet and parted herself from him; putting a reasonable amount of space between them. (First of all, she touched his lips with her thumbs, 

not fingers. If she's looking at her feet, how can she  look at him? Or herself? And what the hell is a reasonable  amount of space? An inch? 

A mile? 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea?)

She turned and walked down his dimly lit hallway, each step putting more and more space between them; taking her farther and farther away from him. (Steps 

tend to do that.) She could not change the  delicate relationship between them; could not take on a new responsibility that took on so much weight, so 

much care, and love.  It took all of her strength to resist kissing the beautiful man that stand (Danger, Will Robinson, Danger! Tense Shift! Although she made it a whole 

paragraph and a half before it happened ...) just steps behind her, watching her leave from his door frame. (I bet the door frame missed her, too.) She 

could feel his intense gaze on her back, begging her not to leave him. (Don't you just hate it when a gaze begs? Then you have to tell it to stop, 

and half the time it doesn't obey ...)

She stopped mid-way (halfway) down his hall, in his apartment building; (good to clear that up, it could have been his hall in her apartment building) his

hazel eyes not letting her walk another step forward; another step away from him. (Some eyes he's got. They beg, they stop 

people in their tracks; do they roll over, too?)

She turned slowly, her lips slightly parted, her blue eyes sweeping up  to his handsome face.  Her face carried a look of surprise as she looked

into his deep, longing, green(-)flecked eyes.  The flecks of green (My kingdom for an original modifier!) seemed to intensify as she took a step closer to 

him, unable to resist the electric pull between them. (Scully's in for radiation burns if the author doesn't turn off the gazing thing.)

Her baby blue eyes lit up (like a light bulb -- sorry, it is the holiday season) as he took a step towards her.  A look of surprise, that reflected hers, 

(All this reflection. Can we reflect on sentence structure and showing, not telling the reader what's going on? Okay, maybe later.) came over his face as he realized 

what he was doing, what this would mean in the future, what it meant now. (Absosmurfly nothing.)

He stared down at her from his six feet to her barely five and a half, (FIVE FOOT TWO. FIVE FOOT TWO. Canon.) mesmerized by her beauty, not 

knowing what to do next. She surprised him again by taking another step, another step (Did I stutter? Nope, she just repeated that for seemingly no 

reason.) in his direction.

They now stood only inches apart. (Reasonably.) He lowered his head to hers, watching her reaction to his closeness carefully.  Her bright blue eyes where

excepting, (Accepting. Homonymcide Number 4.) wanting, even begging for this to happen.  He brought his hand up, and gently touched her face, slowly moving 

his long fingers back, combing through her brilliant, bright, (No comma needed, nor is the extra modifier. If it's brilliant, it's probably bright, eh?) red hair.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into him, her moist, warm lips meeting his. (Somehow, moist and warm do not bring erotic images to mind.) She brought her 

arms up, pulling him closer to her.  They where (Were. Oh, this aspires to homonymcide.) frozen in time; for an eternity it seemed. 

They broke the soft, tender kiss that had consumed them just seconds before, (Contradiction. Soft and tender is NOT consuming. Trust me. I'm married.) and their 

eyes met, reflecting (We need to coat the backs of their eyeballs with silver, if this keeps up) their hunger for each other; their want. 

He pulled her close, his arms circling her small waist.  Their lips met again, for a second time, but this time hungrier, more searching. (I'm just searching for a decent 

sentence here.) Her hands tangling into his soft brown hair.   (That one's not it. Not even a sentence, either.)

He nearly fell over as she pushed him back, her full lips still attached to his. (Again, some kissing inexperience shines through. Do you know how hard it 

is to kiss someone while in motion? Besides, it's got to be EXTRA impossible to kiss while moving when there's about a FOOT of height difference. Unless he's 

CARRYING her.) He took a step back to avoid the fall, but instead collided with a wall. (She's a poet and doesn't know it!)

She broke the kiss and looked up at him; their eyes locking, her gaze filled with apology. (For this monstrosity.)

He smiled at her, telling her it was okay, and almost made a sexual remark, (also known as innuendo) only to be silenced by her actions.  His eyebrows 

rose in shock as she pulled him into his apartment and shut the door behind them.  She kissed him again, with a fierceness that did cause him to fall 

backwards. She fell with him, landing atop him.  She braced herself above him so as not to hurt him, but not removing her lips from his for a 

second. (See my previous point about moving kisses.) He returned her fierce kiss, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head from hitting his head on the 

hard wooden floor. (But the kiss was just so good he couldn't stop, even if he'd started hemorrhaging.)

Before they knew it, they where (Were. Again.) laying (lying) atangle upon the floor, cloths (Napkins? Tea towels?) strewn everywhere.  She rest (Tense!) quietly, 

peacefully, happily (Sing with me! "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, get your adverbs here") in his arms under the quilt they had pulled off his couch sometime during the whole 

fiasco. (Somebody discovered the thesaurus, but forgot about the dictionary.)  

She snuggled into his warm, bare (Bare? Whoa! When did the clothes come off? I missed that part.) chest as he kissed the top of her head.  They smiled to (at) each 

other.  This night (Yeah, always good to wait until the end to establish time of day.) would  change everything, but they no longer cared as they gazed into each other’s 

bright, happy eyes, whispering words of love.

That night, they had discovered the heart always wins. (Unless somebody else is holding a straight royal flush.) They had denied it endlessly, trying to detour 

themselves from each other, but in the end, love concurs (Conquers. Homonymcide Number 5. Well, at least she's consistent.) all, always.

~XXXXXXXX~

 THE END 

~XXXXXXXX~

 
Please send me feedback!  This is my first fic that's under 100 pages! (I cannot imagine the pain contained in 100 pages. I got hives just reading this.) I 

need to know if I should do it again, or save the world from my horrible  writing! (Yes. See note at beginning.) I'm not a part of the ONElist for feedback, 

(You should be. It would direct you to things worth reading.) so  please respond to [email protected]!  thanX! (The first time I saw that, I hoped it 

was just an aberration. Nope, it's a cloyingly cute idiosyncracy. Feh.)

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Ratings

Evilness Rating   
A solid 5. Don't bother. Hundreds have done better.

 

Who ARE these people?    
5. Nothing but mooning, lovestruck people here. 

 
I speech goodly    
Oh, the agony of homonymcide! Across the board, 5.

I R a gud speler    
Spotty. 3.

GAK-o-Tron    
I could pour this story on a short stack at Perkins. 5.

Laziness Quotient :    0   
"Reflections of ... the way life used to be ... " No real cliche appearances, but she does repeat herself. Often. 4.

Death to Clones    
The eye-gazing alone gets the thing a 5.

And your point was...?" :   
At least she tried to give it a basis in a episode. 2.

General Evil ranking:    
4. Believe it or not, I have seen worse. And lived to tell the tale.

Witches Wild Card:

 She gets a 5 for leaving herself so wide open to commentary. I mean, "Summery? (sic) No such word is in my vocabulary ..."? Unbelievably naive.