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The Flexible Concept of Tomorrow (Donna-Mulder, Mulder/Scully | PG13 | 11,244 words): Five time Donna and Mulder meet plus one time for each of them they don't remember. This is so neat. Donna and Mulder is an unlikely but awesome friendship.
Excerpt:
The first time he remembers seeing her, they're almost the same age.
Something huge slamming down from the sky just caused a blast wave that knocked him clear off his feet. The bridge is so much floating matchwood and ahead, a fireball consumes the center of a densely packed wood. He walks towards the crash site, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other, one part scared to five parts thrilled at the thought of seeing a ship at last.
He catches a glimpse of red hair ahead of him and just for a moment, his spirits leap at the thought that Scully pushed aside her objections and came out here after all. As he gets closer he realizes that the woman isn't Scully. She's about five inches too tall, longer hair, more broadly built and the jacket's brown leather. There's something vaguely familiar about her. She's also walking very fast in the wrong direction, her breath blowing out in white clouds as she labors up the hill.
"Ma'am," he calls out. She turns around. She's older than Scully, with a scowl on her narrow face. She's muttering under her breath. "Ma'am, I need you to move away from the crash site. It could be dangerous."
"Should've known you'd be here, Mulder," she says, in an accent he immediately identifies as from London. "Great big trouble magnet, you are; just like him."
"How do you know my name?" he asks, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.
Excerpt:
The first time he remembers seeing her, they're almost the same age.
Something huge slamming down from the sky just caused a blast wave that knocked him clear off his feet. The bridge is so much floating matchwood and ahead, a fireball consumes the center of a densely packed wood. He walks towards the crash site, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other, one part scared to five parts thrilled at the thought of seeing a ship at last.
He catches a glimpse of red hair ahead of him and just for a moment, his spirits leap at the thought that Scully pushed aside her objections and came out here after all. As he gets closer he realizes that the woman isn't Scully. She's about five inches too tall, longer hair, more broadly built and the jacket's brown leather. There's something vaguely familiar about her. She's also walking very fast in the wrong direction, her breath blowing out in white clouds as she labors up the hill.
"Ma'am," he calls out. She turns around. She's older than Scully, with a scowl on her narrow face. She's muttering under her breath. "Ma'am, I need you to move away from the crash site. It could be dangerous."
"Should've known you'd be here, Mulder," she says, in an accent he immediately identifies as from London. "Great big trouble magnet, you are; just like him."
"How do you know my name?" he asks, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.