Rating: G
Spoilers: Demons, and everything from Requiem to The Truth.
This one was written for Gen, a fellow seeker, a kindred spirit, and a
generous soul.
* * *
A little knowledge of neuropsychology is a dangerous thing.
I know
how the drug works. I can literally feel the Ketamine swimming
in my cerebral cortex, binding to N-methyl-D-aspartate
receptors,
taking me back -- opening previously locked doors.
Too far back.
What is this?
I'm in a highchair, playing with a spoon. I smell pie baking in the
oven.
I see my mother's hands wiping confectioner's sugar on a ruffled
apron.
Then I feel her arms wrapped around me. She must have picked me
up.
I bury my nose in her hair. She is whispering, I love you.
But the hair is red and the voice is Scully's.
Flashing forward. It's the same kitchen, same baking aroma, and
same
highchair with a toddler in it.
Our child.
Scully is holding me and kissing me.
God, I'd suffer anything if this were our future.
I know it's a short-lived drug, but I want it to last forever.
* * *
