Yes, I am abusing the invitation to post favorite lines by posting a bajillion of them. But seriously, how can one help it? I already had to forbid myself from posting any by Penumbra. If I chose one, I would've had to choose a hundred. JET was very nearly in the same boat. And to quote Khyber i'd have had to quote the entire fic just to give the quote its due context. *wrings hands* SO MANY WONDERFUL FICS.
"They are laughing in the rain in a cemetery in the middle of the night. She is drowning in the wind and the water and her own belief. For once it feels good to let go the lines, the wheel. She's no sailor.
The night's stars are masked and offer no direction; the sky is dark as deep water. In the glow of the flashlight her partner's eyes are the color of cool shallows. They shine with more than reflected light.
"Come on," he says. "Let's get out of here."
She thinks of the pole star, celestial navigation. She swims."
"But the bright, quiet winter morning doesn't seem like the time for things she says and does every day of her life. Mulder's face is as changed as the world around them, like a book falling open.
She pulls the door closed behind her and scoops a handful of snow from the hood of their car as she passes. A bird has been there before her, leaving footprints in hasty, scattered ellipses, circling twice, three times before the little stutter of snow that signals takeoff. It's a cipher she's starting to read."
From Confirmation by Bonetree:
"There in the temple she'd felt this, something turning, a piece clicking into place. Somewhere in Mulder's talk before she'd fallen asleep, about all the choices leading to a moment like a stone in a stream, before she'd woken and gone to him, she'd understood.
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to say that what she'd seen on the dying man's face on the cross -- the knowing about choices, his choice that was never a choice - was the same as the expression on the statue of the Buddha, serene in his red smoke room, hidden in his dark, golden recess.
It was what she'd seen on Mulder's face as he'd looked at her from the bed, the look he'd held her with as she'd stood beside him, silent, and undressed."
From Lines by JET:
"Scully's palms are mapped with lines he has not yet memorized. He needs to do that, he thinks, leaning into her touch. It is a very important thing to learn.
"You want anything? Some water?"
"Everything I can't have." He is matter-of-fact and logical. At another time, she might be proud of him.
She must not be listening. "You didn't eat much earlier. Maybe you'd want an apple, a snack. There's one in the car."
"No," he assures, not touching her. He needs to go back to his own room now. She probably wants to go to sleep, is just being nice out of duty.
"Anything?" she asks again more quietly, still stroking his hair, and he realizes how close their bodies really are, how few inches hover between them.
His eyes do not escape hers. He very carefully cups her jaw in his hand and traces her soft, dream-warm mouth with his thumb. He does not leave a mark. Oh, he thinks, oh. Yes, he thinks, there is something I want. Yes."
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From Instructions by
"They are laughing in the rain in a cemetery in the middle of the night. She is drowning in the wind and the water and her own belief. For once it feels good to let go the lines, the wheel. She's no sailor.
The night's stars are masked and offer no direction; the sky is dark as deep water. In the glow of the flashlight her partner's eyes are the color of cool shallows. They shine with more than reflected light.
"Come on," he says. "Let's get out of here."
She thinks of the pole star, celestial navigation. She swims."
From Miles to Go Before I Sleep by
"But the bright, quiet winter morning doesn't seem like the time for things she says and does every day of her life. Mulder's face is as changed as the world around them, like a book falling open.
She pulls the door closed behind her and scoops a handful of snow from the hood of their car as she passes. A bird has been there before her, leaving footprints in hasty, scattered ellipses, circling twice, three times before the little stutter of snow that signals takeoff. It's a cipher she's starting to read."
From Confirmation by Bonetree:
"There in the temple she'd felt this, something turning, a piece clicking into place. Somewhere in Mulder's talk before she'd fallen asleep, about all the choices leading to a moment like a stone in a stream, before she'd woken and gone to him, she'd understood.
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to say that what she'd seen on the dying man's face on the cross -- the knowing about choices, his choice that was never a choice - was the same as the expression on the statue of the Buddha, serene in his red smoke room, hidden in his dark, golden recess.
It was what she'd seen on Mulder's face as he'd looked at her from the bed, the look he'd held her with as she'd stood beside him, silent, and undressed."
From Lines by JET:
"Scully's palms are mapped with lines he has not yet memorized. He needs to do that, he thinks, leaning into her touch. It is a very important thing to learn.
"You want anything? Some water?"
"Everything I can't have." He is matter-of-fact and logical. At another time, she might be proud of him.
She must not be listening. "You didn't eat much earlier. Maybe you'd want an apple, a snack. There's one in the car."
"No," he assures, not touching her. He needs to go back to his own room now. She probably wants to go to sleep, is just being nice out of duty.
"Anything?" she asks again more quietly, still stroking his hair, and he realizes how close their bodies really are, how few inches hover between them.
His eyes do not escape hers. He very carefully cups her jaw in his hand and traces her soft, dream-warm mouth with his thumb. He does not leave a mark. Oh, he thinks, oh. Yes, he thinks, there is something I want. Yes."