Irony
(1/1)Date: Fri, 15 May 1998 16:43:57 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No fringe
intended. A quote spoken by Mulder in this is from "Sound and Sense" a
helpful (not) book for the AP English test on writing....
Irony
Fox Mulder battered his way through the door, slipping his hands inside
the frame to keep their suspect from slamming it shut.
The man gave up immediately and sneered at them, all while taking four
or five appreciative glances at Scully.
Mulder attempted to ignore him.
Scully cuffed him, roughly because she was high on adrenaline and anger
and being his victim, but he seemed to get off on it and she snarled and
shoved him at the agents coming in behind them.
She glanced around: it was over.
~~~~
As her freshly showered body slid between her clean sheets, Scully
remembered.
The man's breath as he leered over her: the eyes as they glittered: the
fear as she knew this was the day she would die.
Shivering, Scully sat up again and reminded herself of Mulder: coming
into the room: shooting as the man reached for her: running after him as
he took off: coming back to her finally.
Coming back to her.
She wrapped herself in the blanket of his coming and closed her eyes
with the lids of his warmth. It was welcome and familiar and she rocked
herself to sleep with it.
~~~~
Mulder had his eyes open when the feeling came to him.
It was small at first but he knew it would grow; it would light up the
inside of his brain with the fireworks of fear and the flashes of her
face.
It was not his fear, but he felt it the same.
It was hers and he knew she needed him, he knew she was drawing about
her a cloak of him to ward off the dark, but he would never be allowed
to actually put his arms around her.
He wished she would let go of her strength and crumble before him, but
she was strong and he was needy and that did not work well together.
~~~~
Dana felt the room shift and she was in the smell of him again and in
the sight of him and she could feel her fear like a tangible thing.
She gasped out of a nightmare and knew that this day, this day, she was
going.
She stood to her feet, no hesitancy, no thoughts, simply the easy relief
of knowing that a time has come to break certain things down.
~~~~
He opened the door feeling the calmness of what was behind it radiating
outward and making circles of reassurance around him.
She was behind the door.
The breath came from him in a startled gasp and nothing was simply one
color anymore.
She was bright blue/purple with swirls of sparks and he could see the
fire of his body dancing along to meet her skin.
Her being there was an incomprehensible mystery.
She did not reach out; she did not look to him; she survived.
But even as he thought this his hands were guiding her into the
apartment and into his arms and she was sighing across his chest like a
kitten finding a protector in a little boy.
The door slammed with the force of his arm swinging across it, and he
sat her down in his couch, tucking her into him with the warmth of his
love.
She closed her eyes and slept against him.
~~~~
The room was dark and she was curled tightly on the couch, a small spot
left from where he had risen and moved to the computer.
It hummed in the sterile silence of neighborhood night, but she didn't
even stir. His hands clicked on the keyboard but she stayed peaceful and
unwaveringly asleep.
His journal wa before him: things were changing and he wanted to write
it down, figure it out on paper so he would knkow what to do with it.
He had just read an entry from about a few months earlier where he had
complained that things were stagnant between them, unmoving and growing
sickly.
Now. . . now . . . he didn't know now. Something. They were something.
He read over his last typed sentences:
"Irony is natural to human beings who are aware of the ambiguities and
complexities of life, someone once said. It is a function of the
realization that life does not always measure up to promise, that
friends and loved ones are sometimes angry and bitter towards each
other, that the universe contains incomprehensible mysteries, that doubt
exists even in the certainty of knowledge and faith, and that human
character is built through chagrin, regret, and pain as much as through
emulation and praise."
The words were true and he had seen a lot of their truth in his life.
One mainly:
That doubt exists even in the certainty of knowledge and faith.
It helped him understand her.
It helped him to appreciate the irony in their coming together like
this.
She made a little noise and he saved the document and moved to sleep
beside her.
His little spy.
His own sweet irony.
~~~~
end
adios
RM
I Think I'm Gonna Kill Myself
(1/1)Date: Thu, 24 Jul 1997 17:33:50 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, Fox, 1013. "I Think I'm
Gonna Kill Myself" is by Elton John.
Spoilers: Gethsemane
Notes: a little V. nothing bad.
I'm thinking about doing an Elton John series, like the Beatles thing
that C.Shuy does, you know? Which I love by the way...... Any
suggestions?
I Think I'm Gonna Kill Myself (1/1)
Mulder turned off the Carl Sagan footage and leaned back in his green
leather couch. It was pointless to watch because all it did was make him
hurt even more, and he knew he didn't need any more of that. He needed
something to bring his mood back up, something to keep him from dwelling
on reality too heavily.
And then it came to him.
Elton John.
Elton John never dwelt too heavily on reality. His music always seemed
to be upbeat and fun, at least the early years were, and he personally
liked those better. I mean, come on, "Circle of Life?"
Mulder jumped from the couch, swiping away the tears, and knelt before
his bookcase. Pushing away the videos he disclaimed, he finally found
his Elton John collection: tapes, records and CD's. He chose Honky
Chateau, a tape he'd bought at The Music Shack in 1972, same year
Samantha had been taken.
<Don't think of that.>
He popped it into his Sony tapedeck and it came on with a hiss, then the
sweet piano of one of his favorite songs as a kid. He closed his eyes
and listened to the words, thinking there was nothing more true.
< I'm getting bored being a part of mankind
There's not a lot to do no more
This race is a waste of time
People rushing everywhere, swarming round like flies
Think I'll buy a .44, give em all a surprise.>
Mulder began to sing with the chorus, a smile on his tear stained face.
<Think I'm gonna kill myself
Cause a little suicide
Stick around for a couple of days
What a scandal if I died
Yeah, I'm gonna kill myself
Get a little headline news
I'd like to see what the papers say
On the state of teenage blues.>
His head moving to the words, and his fingers tapping out the happy
rhythm, Mulder felt the song to be ridiculously accurate. "What a
scandal if I died," he murmured, singing again.
The never stopping gears in his head churned a bit faster, thinking.
<If I died.......>
This Elton John song had just given him the best idea. If he pretended
to kill himself, then he could do whatever he wanted. <Stick around for
a couple of days......>
They wouldn't be looking for him, he wouldn't have to worry about
hurting Scully. Or getting her killed.
And if he *had* been believing the lie, then he'd find out why, he'd
expose whatever truth was there. Everything.
He mioght even find the cure for Scully's cancer. If it'd been given to
her to make him believe, then surely, there was a cure. For 'just in
case.'
He laughed out loud. Suicide. It was the kind of thing they would never
expect, yet look back on it and say, "well, he was kind if unstable
there at the end."
He laughed again.
First, call Scully. Explain it to her, make her agree to go along with
it.
He phoned her apartment and when she found out it was him, she began to
try and talk to him about what she had said.
"Scully, wait, wait. Listen. I was listening to Elton John........" He
laughed again. Elton John!
Thank goodness for Elton John!
end.
you like?
adios
RocketMan
It's Been. . .
(1/1)Date: Tue, 11 Aug 1998 16:49:26 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. One Week
belongs to Barenaked Ladies and no fringe is intended for either.
Content: One bad word. Sorry. MSR
SPOILER::::movie--not movie fic!!!
Dedicated to DarkStryder, cause she's just awesome. And soon to be a
freshmen.
~~~~~
It's Been . . .
~~~~~
"It's been one week since you looked at me
Dropped your head to the side and said "I'm angry"
--'One Week', Barenaked Ladies
~~~~~
Part One: One Week
~~~~~
He watched her shake her head in annoyance, the way her eyes seemed to
be chewing him out even as he bled on the floor.
"Mulder, if you die, I'm going to kill you," she whispered tightly, one
hand pressed to his shoulder and the other to his stomach with the force
of panic.
He gurgled, his eyes glazed and barely seeing the outline of her face
above him.
"Kind . . . kinda . . . too late," he said shortly, mesmerized by the
way her hair puffed out as he breathed hard.
"No, no. You're going to be okay. The ambulance is coming and soon, I'll
be able to chew you out for not letting me back you up."
"Couldn't let you. . . too dangerous."
"No shit."
He grunted with her words, a smile in his eyes as he shook his head
slightly. "Must be . . . rubbing off . . . cursing. . ."
"No, Mulder. You just bring out the best in me," she muttered, her hair
falling into her eyes, but her hands too occupied to move it away.
He could feel the panic and pain fading from him and he realized he was
really going to die right here.
He was really going to die for his cause.
The dirty floor was cold against his back and it seeped into his bones,
making him quake all over. The warehouse had high ceilings that let the
moonlight trickle in. The way it spilled over them made him think that
Scully was his angel, sent to show him the way to heaven.
Corny.
Yes.
But she was highlighted like that and her hair billowed out with his
breath, and her eyes were crying because she could tell too, and he felt
afraid because she was crying.
"Don't. . . don't let me die, Scully. . ."
He grasped hard at her, bloodying her FBI jacket and causing a faint
flicker of horror to flash across her face.
"You're not dying, Mulder. You will not die on me. You're going to live
because I need you to. Understand?"
He nodded weakly, licked his lips with a dry tongue, then heard his own
whimper as the pain suddenly raged back into him.
He closed his eyes, wincing, grabbing at her as the spasms rolled
through him. The bullets had flown around him, he remembered this,
remembered how relieved he felt as he went down that she had not been
there.
And then, as he lay bleeding on the floor, she'd come in, gotten shot
herself, crashed down next to him, and he'd panicked then.
The team behind her took out the shooter, but there they were, lying in
their blood.
Her arm was tattered at the muscle, but she kept saying she was fine.
He knew she was more worried about the bullet that had grazed his
stomach than the one lodged in his shoulder, but he worried more about
the blood trickling from her arm.
It made him want to live, just for her.
She was not supposed to come, she was supposed to have done it
differently. But she had come, and she had found him, and so now, he
would live for her.
For everything she gave up to come after him.
"Sorry. . . bout vacation," he murmured, his eyes opening just as she
was about to panic.
"Just know you owe me a Florida beach, partner. Got it?"
"As soon as I can. . . take you there. . ."
Her lips pressed into a hopeful smile. "Exactly, exactly."
He nodded, felt the cold of the concrete reaching in again.
"I'll just. . . rest. . ."
"No. NO. Mulder, open your eyes, okay? Look, look at me."
He couldn't. He wanted to. He couldn't. Not even for her.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Part Two: Five Days
~~~~~
"Five days since you laughed at me, saying
'Get back together, come back and see me.'"
--One Week, B.L.
~~~~~
There were words he knew he should pay attention to, for no reason other
than the voice was important.
The voice.
It was shaky, like crying, just not quite.
He wanted to open his eyes for her.
Her?
The voice. Yes, the voice was her. The woman who was his angel.
He wanted to open his eyes for her.
The room.
Yes, a room with white things that blurred sharply then fuzzed into
focus.
And the voice of the woman hitched and he blinked, then coughed, finding
no air for him, not enough breath to make it to his lungs.
"Mulder, Mulder. Take a deep breath. It's just the tube. . ."
He sucked in and found the air there, found it stale and dry, but still,
delicious.
He still couldn't see her.
She was over there.
He turned his head, grunted as something like needles pierced his skull,
smiled then as the voice came into his vision.
"You're awake."
He wanted to laugh, to tell her, no duh, he was awake.
He couldn't find the words.
So he nodded.
She smiled and brushed the hair off his forehead with a shaking hand.
"You scared me."
"Sorry," he mouthed.
She frowned. "Can you talk?"
He shook his head, tried to clear his throat again, but found it numb,
paralyzed.
He grunted, coughed again, then tried to form the words.
Panic raced across his face.
She grabbed his hand. "It's okay, Mulder. Temporary. It's from the tube
they had to put down your throat to help you breathe. It paralyzes the
vocal cords because of the shock."
He nodded, but kept clearing his throat, as if he expected it to come
back then, right then. He wanted to thank her, to tell her she saved his
life.
"Don't look at me like that," she muttered.
He smiled, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, mouthing
his thanks as best he could.
She shook her head. "You owe me, Mulder. . . ."
A shaky sigh whispered from her mouth. "I thought you were going to die.
You closed your eyes and got so still . . . don't ever do that to me
again. I'm coming with you next time you get some stupid tip, got it? I
don't care if I *am* about to go on vacation. You come get me."
"Yes, Mom," He whispered, delighted with hearing the scratched, barely
understandable words from his mouth.
She seemed to feel the same delight.
The fear, the panic, eased from her eyes and he felt better.
"Why do you do this to me, Mulder?"
The words hit him like a ton of ice, cold frozen, like a bullet to the
gut. Hadn't she said those words before? Hadn't it been almost the same
then? A feeling of despair welling in him, a horrible grasp of his own
doom, and then she had come in, said she was leaving, leaving for good.
And then those words that condemned him.
<Don't do this to me>
He had wanted to cry out, to grab her in his arms and shake her for
confirming his worst fears.
He did this to her.
He did this to her.
What else could he have done, but run after her?
Run after her, try to seduce her into staying with him. That's what it
had been, seduction at its finest. He would have kissed her. He would
have laid her down in the floor and taken her right there, and not once
regretted it.
But instead he had laid her on the floor and called for an ambulance
that took her instead, and far away from him, and he regretted it all.
"Sorry," he croaked, wishing it could be different.
She brushed tears from her eyes, refusing to let herself cry now that he
was getting better.
"You came after me, Mulder. I'm always gonna come after you, so you
might as well just take me with you."
He knew what she meant; he had come after her in the ice, found her
despite everything. He had found her only because he wanted her, wanted
her back. She was his, about to be his, and they'd taken her from him.
And also, because she was the best woman he had ever known, and the best
friend he had never before had.
"Your arm?" he said, raising his own to motion to the object of his
focus, causing dizzying waves of naseua to roll through him.
She noticed and firmly pushed his arm back down, then moved in closer to
him so he wouldn't have to shift around so much.
"It's fine. Flesh wound is all. Stunned me because I wasn't expecting
it. I'm okay."
He nodded. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have been there."
She shook her head, grabbed his hand hard. "No, no. I *should* have been
there. I should have been there when you were there, Mulder. You're my
partner, I'm supposed to back you up."
"Not for that. Not for that."
"Yes, for that. Yes. Crap, Mulder. Stop doing this to me. Stop trying to
protect me from everything. I'm not innocent anymore; I know what's
going on."
"That's my fault. . ."
She let out a frustrated laugh of scorn. "*That* again. Mulder, when you
figure out that I'm going to always be here for you, always going to be
backing you up, then you come find me. Got it? Right now, I don't need
you doubting me. I've got enough of that from everyone else."
She rose, made a graceful turn, and walked away from him.
She walked away from him.
He watched her in stunned silence.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Part Three: Three Days
~~~~~
"Three days since the living room
I realized it's all my fault but couldn't tell you. . ."
--One Week, B.L.
~~~~~
Mulder watchd the television fuzz at him with a general air of uncaring.
Everything around him didn't seem to care.
He was aching, at home by himself, the pain meds clutched in his hand,
and the glass of water way over by the sink.
He couldn't stand, because that hurt too much, and he couldn't get the
water to make it stop hurting.
He chucked the medicine at the television and felt like beating
something.
He had forgotten how wonderful Scully was at being there for him. She
would have gotten his water, she would have made sure he was okay.
Maybe even cook him dinner if he asked nicely.
It was all his fault she was gone.
But he couldn't tell her that because she would think it was more of
"that." *That* being what, he had only a faint inkling of. Something
along the lines of him taking responsibility for his actions, is how he
saw it.
She seemed to want to think he could do no wrong. Which he didn't
exactly mind, it's just that it got her hurt so many times.
Mulder paused.
Wondered idly for a moment if maybe she had wanted what they had almost
had, wanted it and encouraged it and maybe she wanted him back but only
if he stopped being so . . . guilty.
He snatched up the phone, punched in her number and waited, not letting
himself think yet, because right now it was so clear, so perfect, that
if he started to think, he'd talk himself out of it.
"Scully."
"It's me. Can you come over?"
She paused. He could tell by her breath that she wanted to.
She wanted to come back.
"Depends, Mulder. Can I?"
"Yes. Yes. You can. Please?"
She let out a slow breath, trying to control her impulse to rush over
and make sure he was okay still.
"I'm on my way."
He hung up without saying anything and pulled himself up, groaning as he
remembered the bandages across his stomach.
Bending over, he made his way to the medicine he had thrown, snatching
it up before he could look at it too much. His floor wasn't even close
to clean. Then he shuffled over to his glass of water and choked down
both pills.
He wanted to be clear when he talked to her, wanted no pain to get in
the way and make the decision for him.
He straightened a bit, felt his stomach rip, and hunkered over again,
content with the hunchback look for the moment.
He eased his way into his room and grabbed some fairly clean clothes off
the floor, then slowly, slowly, attempted to put on his clothes.
As he lifted his arm to pull his sleeve out, he felt the hot lash of
pain lance through him like a thousand bullets.
"OH . . . Man . . ." he moaned, wishing he could find the words to curse
it.
Quickly, he yanked off his shirt, then fell back on the bed as it
completely took him over.
He panted there, eyes squeezed tightly shut, breath finding no pattern
as his heart thudded too fast, too crazy.
Oh . . . it hurt. . .
That's where she found him when she came in, passed out on the bed, with
one hand clutching his clean shirt, and the other making a fist in his
mouth.
She sighed and sat down on his bed next to him, touched his face softly.
"Mulder?"
His eyes flickered open and he groaned.
"Sorry. I was trying to get dressed for you," he muttered, and tried to
lift himself up.
His stomach muscles screamed at the effort and he gasped.
She lifted him effortlessly and then took his shirt from his hands.
"This was what you wore home from the hospital," she said, indicating
his jeans and the shirt in the floor.
He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. I couldn't get the energy to change.
Obviously, I still can't."
She shifted around until she faced him, then carefully guided his head
through the hole, then eased his arms into the sleeves. His face worked
into a grimace, but he said nothing, only sighed loudly when she was
done.
"I missed you," he said, taking her hand.
She pulled it away from him. "Me? Or my cleaning up after you?"
"You. Without a doubt."
She smiled, then pushed him down on the bed, pulling his legs up.
He frowned, then his eye raised as she pulled his pajama pants off, the
kind with elastic so that it wouldn't irritate his stomach wound.
She rolled her eyes at his look, then searched around his room for
another pair of pajama pants.
Grabbing a flannel plaid from the floor, sniffed it, deemed it worthy,
then pulled them on his legs, then up around his waist, carefully
navigating his bandages.
He grabbed her hand, pulled her to him with the small amount of energy
he had left.
"Thank you, Scully.For this, for coming after me. For giving me the slap
in the face I needed."
She watched his eyes, noted how distant they seemed.
He didn't say he was sorry, but it was better than nothing.
She fingered his chin with a soft hand, then kissed his forehead."You
owe me, Mulder. Florida."
He let a smile ghost his face. "I own you? What?"
She smirked, then pulled him up. "Owe me, smarty. Owe me."
"Own? I keep hearing own. Maybe we should get my hearing checked, cause
I could swear you said you're mine."
He stood with her, smiling, letting the teasing fall back between them,
reassert its place with them.
She chuckled, pulling him out to the living room.
"Maybe I never said it," she whispered, close to his ear, letting him
fall back with relief into the couch.
"Maybe you didn't."
"Maybe I never said it, but you always knew?"
"Maybe I always knew. . ."
Surprised, he glanced up at her, at the shy sort of look she was giving
him, at the nervous fingers smoothing her pants.
He grabbed those fingers and kissed the softly, an excited thrill
coursing through him.
"Maybe you always knew . . " she said.
He yanked on her hands and she dropped to the couch beside him, her
insecurity gone, the strength and determination back.
This he knew, this he saw in her every day.
Just not for him.
She leaned forward, glanced her lips across his.
He couldn't let it stop at that. "I've figured it out, Scully. I don't
doubt you."
She nodded as his lips came back to hers, but moved away to look at him.
"Never doubt this, either." And she leaned in again and let him taste
her.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Part Four: Yesterday
~~~~~
"Yesterday, you'd forgiven me
But it'll still be two days till I say I'm sorry."
--One Week, B.L.
~~~~~
He cursed the pain medication when he woke up.
Sure it had kept away the nasty feeling of being ripped apart at the
seams when he had leaned in and kissed her, but it had aslo made him
fall asleep right when it was starting to get good.
He opened his eyes and saw her watching him.
He gave her a grimace of a smile.
"Forgive me?"
She frowned and tilted her head. "For what?"
"Falling asleep."
She laughed and shook her head. "No problem. I could tell by your eyes
that you were about to go. Pain medicine?"
He nodded, then grimaced as he moved to get up.
She gently pushed him back down, and then he realized his head was
cradled in her lap.
"Stay here," she said.
"Good advice doctor."
"That's what they pay me for."
"Naw, I bet they pay you cause you're pretty."
She smiled again and he liked the little thrill he got from knowing he
could say something like that and actually have her accpet it, and know
he meant it.
"Rest, idiot. I want you to be in top shape when we go to Florida."
"Florida?"
She raised her eyebrows. "You owe me. You promised."
"Oh. Yeah I did. I was delirious, Scully. Surely you can't hold it to
me. I thought I was dying. I would have said anything to see you smile
before I died."
She poked his arm and shook her head. "I'm not letting you off the hook,
mister. You're paying. You're coming. You're also going to explain to my
mother and Charlie why I couldn't come with them."
He groaned. "Is Charlie anything like Bill? Cause if he is, you can
forget me explaining anything."
"Is Charlie uptight and overprotective? Hell no. He's my baby brother."
"Ah. So are you uptight and protective of him? Being the older sister?"
"Of course not."
He nodded with a laugh. "Of course. I should have known."
They fell into silence and he fiddled with the edge of her shirt with a
finger, slipping his hand to her stomach for a brief moment, enjoying
the silky heat.
She twitched and grabbed his hand. "Rest."
"I'm resting!" he protested, grinning.
He sighed suddenly and she wondered what ws wrong with him.
Surely he wasn't back to doubting.
"You're right. I owe you."
"Own me? Is that what you said."
"Ha ha. Yes. That's beside the point. So Florida it is."
She grinned and the smile made him give her a lazy one back. "See, that
was what I was looking for. Now I can die."
She shook her head and brushed his hair from his face.
"Not until we're old and grey and 193. Got it?"
"Sheesh. 193? That's old."
"You can do it."
"You going to have to help me."
She smiled as he let his eyes drift shut again, evidence to the medicine
still surging through his blood.
"Since I own you . . . you're going to have to marry me." he whispered,
his eyes sliding shut.
She tensed as he seemed to drift off, but then his eyes opened in panic.
"Right?" he said, grabbing her shirt just as he when he was bullet
ridden on the cold concrete.
"Right." she whispered. "I wasn't sure if you were being delusional
again."
"No delusions. Maybe delusions of grandeur. This you can hold me to."
She tightened her arms around him. "I'll do just that."
He seemed to be falling asleep again and she softly smiled, stroking the
hair on his face.
His eyes popped open.
"Mulder! Rest."
He smiled. "I got it. I'll just tell your mom and brother that you're
going to marry me. Your mom shouldn't be too upset about you missing the
vacation then, right?"
She laughed. "I guess not."
As he drifted off again, to the motions of her hand on his forehead, he
realized he had still not told her he was sorry.
He'd wait a while.
Maybe in a couple of days.
~~~~~
end part 1
It's Been. . . 2
Sequel to It's Been. . . .
~~~~~
It's Been. . . .2
~~~~~
Part One: Smile
~~~~~
"Can I help if I think you're funny when you're mad?
Trying hard not to smile, though I feel bad."
~~~~~
Dana Scully watched him through the window of the physical therapist's
office, her forehead pushed against the glass.
He glanced up quickly, flashed her a smile laced with an aching pain,
then continued in his exercises as the woman manipulated his shoulders.
Her eyes strayed to his bare stomach, where his muscles rippled tightly
as he began slowly to do sit-ups, rebuilding the shredded tissue from
the bullet's entry three months before.
He looked to be in pain, but he took it well, never complaining, never
whining.
She sighed. His silence meant it hurt all the more.
With Mulder, minor injury meant one annnoying patient. Major injury
meant white-faced dogged determination not to utter a single word.
He looked up again, waved her inside with a trembling hand and said
something to the therapist.
She nodded and Scully came in, threading her way through mats and bars
and weights to Mulder's side.
He squeezed her offered hand and she dragged him upright, then hugged
him quickly as the therapist offered her a progress report.
"He's doing great. You shouldn't have any trouble in Florida as long as
he rests and stays away from strenuous activity."
Mulder poked Scully in the side, but remained straight faced, merely
nodding and acting serious.
Scully thanked the woman and led Mulder to the receptionist's desk to
pay for the treatment.
"Remember Mulder. . . not too strenuous."
Mulder shook his head and brushed her ear with his lips. "She didn't
have to tell me that. She should be talking to you."
Scully wrote out the check for co-pay and herded Mulder to the
outpatient hospital doors, rolling her eyes as he continued to make
comments.
As they seperated at her car, Mulder reached down and tucked a strand of
hair behind her ear, then stroked her cheek with a heavy hand.
She frowned at him, at the weary look in his eyes.
"Are you sure you're up to this Mulder? We've waited a month now, we can
always postpone the honeymoon another month, let you-"
He shook his head and then brushed his thumb across her lips, silencing
her.
"We need this, Scully. Besides, I owe you, remember?"
She watched gentleness and a smile displace the weariness, and stood on
tiptoes to brush his mouth with her own.
"Yes, we do need this."
He was grinning at her.
"Race you home." he said and dashed to his car.
Scully jumped in her own and gunned the engine.
~~~~~
Part Two: Understand
~~~~~
"I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral,
Can't understand what I mean, well you soon will."
~~~~~
The flight was at night, and they seemd to coast through the black
velvet like swans through crystal lakes, with the stars still high above
and making the airplane seem even more insignificant.
She had the window seat, meaning Mulder crowded her to look out and gaze
at the stars, even though she caught him most times gazing at her
instead of the view.
His chin came to rest on her shoulder as they looked out, his breath
tickling her ear and stirring her hair, and head titled into hers.
"There are a lot." he said distractedly.
"Stars?"
"Yeah. Sort of odd."
"How's that?" she asked, shifting to see his reflection in the window.
He sighed dramatically and she knew he wasn't going to be serious.
"All those stars, all the many different potential suns to, let's say an
average of nine planets, less if you want, say five, and even with all
of those billions, quadrillions of chances, you don't think there's
intelligent life out there."
She laughed with the unexpected nature of his complaint, the tired voice
and patented pained expression on his face making it all the more
humerous.
As she laughed, she realized that it was healing, that this laughter was
mending things inside of her, and so she didn't stop.
She let it continue, let the healing and the repair on her heart, her
personality begin. Mulder was helping to loosen her up, let her finally
be who she was all the time.
And everything inside was saying laughter was something she needed.
He had pulled back, watching her, head tilted at her sudden display,
lips cocked into a smile, eyes enjoying the sight.
Mulder was sitting perfectly still when she finally wiped tears from her
eyes and stilled her quaking stomach.
He looked pleased with himself, pleased and something else.
Maybe awed.
Maybe he hadn't thought she could be like that, or maybe it was
something he thought would take more time.
She leaned back into him, letting his arms tighten around her, letting
the delicious taste of the moment of laughter linger on her lips and
roll on her tongue.
"Enjoying yourself, Mrs. Mulder?"
She smiled. "Scully. You agreed."
"Yeah, but that's just your stage name," he said, tickling her ear again
with his breath.
"You wish," she said and threaded her fingers through his.
"Naw. I got everything I need. Who cares about a name? Besides, we
couldn't both call each other Mulder. That would be a little silly."
"And far be it from us to be a little silly, right Mulder?"
"Exactly."
They had a moment of silence, watching the ocassional grey cloud stream
past the wing.
She took in a tight breath, letting her eyes slip shut. She wanted to be
serious with him for a moment, to tell him the things they really hadn't
gotten a chance to actually say.
With his therapy and arranging their wedding and simply trying to dodge
the obstacles that came with their engagement, the struggle to keep the
X-Files open and both of them still working on it, partnered, they
hadn't had much time to sit down and talk.
The marriage always seemed to come into context with a joke, or one of
his off-color remarks, or in regards to plans.
It made her nervous that they hadn't talked.
She knew he understood, knew he was secure in it, otherwise he wouldn't
have been so comfortable, so self assured and amused all the time.
Whenever she did something now, whenever he got a look into her at-home
kind of living, he seemed tickled by it. Amused.
It was amazing that such a man would be able to let go of so much for
what they had.
She wanted maybe to reassure herself in this, maybe to reassure him.
"Mulder. . ."
"Uh-oh. What did I do?" he said, drawing his arms a bit tighter around
her middle.
"Nothing. I just. . .I'm glad we got a chance to leave for awhile. This
will give us time to talk. We never really talked much about this, you
know? It kind of just happened."
"Yes. But we never really talked much anyway, right?"
"It's not that it's a bad thing. We never did talk much like that, but I
feel that I know you better than . . . than I even know myself
sometimes."
"Wow. That's amazing. *You're* still a complete mystery to me."
She glanced back at him, saw the glint in his eyes, knew he was teasing
her.
She sighed then, shaking her head and feeling like laughing again.
"You're good for me, Mulder. You know that? You make me come alive."
He was suddenly very still.
Very serious.
His breath rattled once, then sort of fell off.
He drew her even tighter against him, squeezing his eyes shut and
pressing his forehead into the back of her neck.
"That's . . ." He paused, regaining control of his voice. "I don't know
what to say to that."
Scully tangled her hand through his hair, rubbing his neck and turning
to place a kiss on his head.
Finally words came to him. "If I can do that for you. . .then I must be
doing something right."
She felt the choked sensation in her throat and swallowed rapidly,
refusing to let tears fall for something like this, something they spoke
with such undying honesty.
She turned into him, curled tightly into his arms and tried to forget
how she used to be, put away the parts of her that had been in control
for so long.
In this window away from the world, in their little moment, she would be
simply a wife.
Simply a wife.
~~~~~
Part Three: Tendencies
~~~~~
"I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve.
I have a history of loosing my shirt.
It's been...."
~~~~~
Scully lay on the beach, half asleep and half day dreaming, her chair
positioned so that her feet touched the wet sand, and the surf came
washing over her legs with silky fingers.
Mulder had gone walking up the boardwalk after lathering her with
sunblock and hadn't been back since that morning.
She hardly realized so much time had gone by until her stomach growled
and she glanced up at the sun.
It shone fiercely above her and she shaded her eyes and peered down the
beach.
No Mulder.
Sighing, she gathered up her stuff and traipsed back to the beachfront
condo that her mother time-shared with another couple.
She let her things fall in a heap on the porch and went to unlock the
sliding door with her key but it gave way and so she pushed in amid the
long strips of the blinds.
She moved effortlessly around the kitchen, making herself and Mulder a
turkey sandwich, switching on the radio idly, then sitting down to her
lunch.
She had been flipping through a magazine when a noise made her jump,
then freeze to quiet.
She heard it again - like it was coming from the bathroom.
Slipping through the master bedroom, she noticed that Mulder's shoes
were just inside the door.
Her heart flipped and she scrambled for the bathroom, yanking open the
door with fear lacing her vision.
She stopped cold at the sight.
Mulder lay sprawled in the floor, bleeding from a cut lip, a swollen
eye, and profusely from his newly healed wounds.
She wanted to throw up.
He was coming back around, moving his head slightly and moaning as she
crouched next to him, gently supporting his head.
"Oh, Mulder. . ."
His eyes snapped open and he groaned. "Couldn't react fast enough."
She let her eyes stray to the rest of his body, making a keening noise
in her throat as she saw the damage to his stomach.
Pulling him against her chest, she supported his weight while pressing a
towel to staunch the flow of blood.
He licked his lips. "I forgot to lock it. They waited. . .glad you
didn't come in before me."
"Who did this, Mulder?" she sighed, closing her eyes because somehow,
she knew it was a threat, a warning that they better not ever again get
too comfortable.
"Didn't see faces. But they were hired . . . professionals."
He let his eyes close again. "I coulda taken 'em any other time. Too
slow to move fast and they knew it."
She leaned forward and pressed her lips into his forehead, closing her
eyes.
"We have a tendency to get in trouble, you know that Mulder?"
"Yeah. But it's we. Us. Never alone again."
She smiled into his hair and squeezed shut her eyes. "Us." she repeated,
the strange sense of comfort falling back into place for her again.
He hauled himself up to a sitting position, then gingerly stood, gaining
support from her as she helped him to his feet.
He walked slowly into the bedroom, then closed his eyes and let her lay
him on the bed.
She put fresh bandages over the bleeding areas, thankful to see that it
hadn't been ripped too badly, only a little tearing of the scar tissue.
The bleeding would stop and he'd be aching for awhile, but nothing
serious.
The swollen eye was blue and puffy and she collected ice and placed it
in a Ziplock, then wrapped a washcloth around that and made him hold it
to his puffed lid.
Then she sat on the bed beside him and stroked his cheek, reminding
herself of his touch and finding comfort in it.
Mulder snaked his arm around her waist and played with the belt loop on
her jean shorts.
"I already feel better, doc."
His hand traveled up her side and his thumb smoothed along the bare skin
of her back, revealed by the swimsuit.
"Not that good, Mulder."
He sighed and tugged on her bathing suit strap, letting his fingers dip
down her skin.
"Mulder."
"I'll be good." he muttered, but let his fingers continue their
exploration, being his eyes while the ice covered over his vision.
Fighting off the thrills coursing through her, she slipped away from his
prowling touch and laid down next to him.
He resigned to the contact and simply splayed his hand on her back,
rubbing softly.
"You think this counts as strenuous, or can we try again?"
~~~~~
end part two
thanks to all who wrote and asked for Florida.
I guess I owed you!
It's Been. . .3
~~~~~
It's Been 3
~~~~~
Part One: Predictable
~~~~~
"You just did just what I thought you were going to do."
--One Week, B.L.
~~~~~
The air was muggy and cloying, making her skin feverish where Mulder was
pressed against her.
She wiggled her way out from under him and pulled on his huge white
T-shirt with the words "Memphis in May Annual 108th Rugby Tournament"
scrawled on the pocket in red letters.
Neither of them knew what it meant. Mulder had gotten it free before an
FBI auction. It had quickly turned into a personal joke.
Moving to the air conditioner, Scully set it down a notch and pushed
open the curtains to see the ocean.
The air was heavy with storm clouds and the sea roiled beneath angry
whitecaps. It didn't look like they'd be sunbathing that day.
She was kind of glad, since their honeymoon was over and their work was
just starting.
Skinner had called just as they were about to head for the airport,
telling them to stay there, he was faxing them a new case, one that was
to receive top priority.
That was predictable. At least Skinner had waited until after their
vacation.
Telling Mulder they had a new case was a job she dreaded, but he seemed
excited, ready to start.
She thought he ought to stay home, rest some more, especially after the
attack he'd suffered.
Snapping the curtains closed, she made her way to the kitchen, pulling
out eggs and milk and bread to make French toast, a trick she had
learned from her father the day before she had left for college.
Mixing eggs and milk, then soaking two pieces of bread in it, Scully
busied herself with breakfast, feeling a sense of domesticy settle over
her, a feeling that seemed faked and unnatural.
As if this was a sham, and she was simply playing a part.
The toast finished and she rinsed out the pan, then padded back into the
bedroom, a plate of French toast in one hand and coffe in the other.
Making herself a space on the floor, Scully grabbed the case file and
perused its contents, studying the crime scenes and details as if she
would have a test later.
She ate her breakfast slowly, while memorizing the burned out carcass of
a male, then the husked remains of two children clutching the skeletal
remains of their mother.
All this carnage, raging fire devouring the entire home, and the police
had three more cases exactly like that. In every instance, the houses
were known to have working fire alarms and burglar systems in place, and
it always took place at night, around midnight.
She wondered if this was another fire case, like the one Mulder's old
flame had called them on, another case where Mulder's own personal
nightmares would haunt them.
Sighing, Scully reviewed the autopsies, found the level of burning
scores on the bodies to be extremely high. Too hot of a fire to be a
simple gas can arson.
She heard a small noise and looked up, toward the bed.
Mulder was looking at her, one arm slung off the edge, almsot as if he
were reaching for her.
"Hey," she said softly, smiling at him. "Feel okay?"
He nodded and blinked his eyes. "Whatcha doin?"
She gestured to the case file. "Looknig this over."
"It's seven o'clock in the morning."
Her mouth quirked up. "Nothing gets by you, Mulder."
"Well, the appointment with the PD isn't until nine."
"Yeah, well, I couldn't sleep. It's hot."
He smiled and patted the bed, shifting his body over.
"Come sit."
She scrambled up from the floor, setting aside her plate, and crawled
onto the bed, tucking her legs up under her body.
He was sprawled on his stomach now, his cheek pressed into her thigh and
one arm slung around her waist.
"I knew you'd be up early."
She ran her fingers through his hair with gentle strokes. "You did?"
"Yeah. I always heard you get up early, sort of mess around until it was
time to actually get up and get moving."
"I like the morning times."
"You get to be alone, huh?"
She nodded softly, still running her hands through his hair, closing her
eyes in the silence, in the feel of his warmth cradling her. The echo of
birds outside and the rumble of thunder and wave created an ambience
that eased her mind and let her relax.
She looked down at him, traced the smooth skin of his cheek to the
parted mouth, then down his chin and around the back of his neck.
He had closed his eyes and his breath was falling into a deep, slow
rhythm again.
When he had fallen asleep, she leaned over and grabbed the case file,
carefully balancing herself so that she wouldn't wake him up, then
quietly and slowly repositioned herself so that her back was against the
wall and her feet straight out in front of her.
She returned her hand to the contours of his face, and let the
repetitive motion of her fingers gliding along his skin help her focus
on their new case.
~~~~~
Part Two: Crazy
~~~~~
"It's been one week since you looked at me
Threw your arms in the air and said "You're crazy!"
~~~~~
"This is nuts, Mulder," she whispered to him as they crawled through the
wet grass towards the suspect's house.
He suddenly stopped, gripped her arm hard, but his eyes were sparkling.
"Didn't I warn you I was crazy before you married me?"
"Actually, yes, but I seemed to have been temporarily insane myself."
He flashed her a grin and continued on, pausing only when they got to
the small window that peeked into the basement.
While Mulder checked out the scene, Scully kept watch, remembering the
details of the case and going over each point in her mind.
The arsonist was a twenty year old man who had been orphaned when he was
three because of an oridnary housefire turning into a blazing inferno.
It turned out his older sister had set the fire on accident, playing
with a lighter she'd found, and had later killed herself over it.
The man, Nick Hazel, was setting fires to homes similiar in design to
his own family's and then tying up the entire household so that none
would survive the fires without the others.
This was fairly straight forward, if a little psychotic, and she
generally agreed with Mulder's assessment of the man.
He was trying to control the fire that shaped his entire life,
attempting to keep the family together, until death. Nick thought his
family was supposed to have all died in that fire and that an act of
Satan had kept him and his sister alive without their parents.
And now, Nick thought he was doing Satan's will by keeping the families
tied together, letting none escape alive. He assumed he was enslaved to
the devil since the devil had rescued him from the flames.
But that's where their theories diverged.
Mulder attested to the idea that the man was recieving power from dark
spirits that he called up, his only evidence to such a thing being some
blackened pentagrams chalked into the front steps and a witness's
testimony that he was known to talk out loud to demons, as he called
them.
Scully simply thought it was more evidence of his lack of mental
facilities, rather than the power of the Father of Darkness.
Except, right now, hidden on Nick's property, she had the sickening
feeling that Mulder was right.
Especially when it was the same feeling she'd had before, on another
case where the PTA had turned out to be devil worshippers, and the
devil? itself had come to kill them all.
In that case, the substitute teacher had disappeared, and she and Mulder
had almost been sacrificed in the gym's locker room showers.
That horrible feeling of doom she had experienced in the locker room was
now raging through her at full force.
"Mulder, we have to get out of here."
His face was riveted to the scene before him.
She pulled on his shoulder and saw his pupils contract suddenly, then
dilate again and his body shuddered.
Scully felt her mouth run dry.
Taking him by the arm, she yanked him away from the window, crossing
herself out of an overwhelming fear.
Mulder blinked and looked at her, then shook his head.
"I have a headache."
She glanced quickly into the basment, then stopped still, shocked as she
watched Nick Hazel sway before an enormous fire, sweat and dirt dripping
from him in a sensuous, serpentine motion. She felt herself being pulled
into the hypnotic dance of the fire and closed her eyes, tight.
Then backed away, grabbing for Mulder.
"Let's get out of here, right now." she said, and only opened her eyes
when they were turned away from the basement.
~~~~~
Part Three: Sorry
~~~~~
"And now I sit back and wait till you say you're sorry."
~~~~~
"You're right, Mulder."
Scully groaned as she walked through the police station and in to the
morgue room, pulling on latex gloves and a mask.
Mulder did the same as she pulled back the sheet covering one Nick
Hazel, burned to a crisp.
"What was that again, Scully? I couldn't hear you."
She glared at him. "I said, you were right."
His eyes danced behind the mask and he helped her slip scrubs over her
jeans and T-shirt, both of them having abandoned the suits due to the
extreme heat.
"Ah, yes. I believe I was."
He sat down in the corner and averted his eyes as she did her prelim
exam, scraping off some of the oxidized bone fragments and shaking them
into a sample jar.
His queasiness had not deterred him from staying right beside her in the
autopsy suite, something she appreciated.
She wasn't so sure she wanted to be alone with the man's charred husk.
Scully tried not to look at the face, recalling only the extreme heat
they had both felt that night, the panic as they'd been trapped in the
house with the arsonist, the killer.
Nick had lured them to a trap, locking them in, knocking them out, and
tying them together, then stayed inside as the house burned, ready to
meet his master.
But Mulder had been right. There was no accelerant, no gas, only the
prayer of a faithful man, and Satan's hell fires had descended upon them
like a plague of locusts.
She shivered as that night blurred around her.
Nick had been consumed in the flames, and Mulder had squirmed beside
her, panting, screaming at times as the heat grew unbearable, but
always, always working to get free.
In the end, it had been their own teamwork that had gotten them free.
They had crawled to the edge of the room, then grabbed the letter opener
from a desk drawer and sawed their way through the duct tape binding
them.
Scully remembered fainting at one point, too exhausted to continue, and
too filled with smoke and carbon dioxide to work her muscles.
She had woken up in the ambulance, Mulder's weary body slumped over
hers, the face mask giving her blessed oxygen.
She remembered that night and then glanced to the body once more.
It was proof of what had happened, what they had seen.
She finished examining the outside and then went for her surgical knife
to make the Y-incision.
As the blade bit into the charred flesh of the lower abdomen, a
slithering mass beneath her scalpel made her gasp and jerk away.
Mulder came up behind her and took her elbow as she stared at the body.
Along the entry incision, thousands of snakes poured through, squirming
out of the body cavity and dropping to the stainless steel table with a
hissing, vulgar sound.
She stumbled away, knocking into Mulder, and turned her head, feeling
her breakfast rise in her throat.
Mulder was white faced as the reptiles kept gushing from the blackened
body, then turned and yanked her out of the room as they slithered to
the floor and quested out warmth.
They slammed the door on the brood of vipers just before the lead snake
managed to catch up to them.
Scully lay trembling against the door.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Part Four: Satisfaction
~~~~~
"Like Snickers, guaranteed to satisfy."
~~~~~
He was lying in their bed, watching her as she came out of the bathroom,
a towel wrapped around her head and his shirt loosely hanging from her
body.
She strode over to the dresser and pulled out her brush, then took her
hair down and toweled it dry.
Mulder was suddenly behind her, taking the brush from her hands and
guidng her to the foot of the bed, pushing her to sit down.
He talked as he brushed her wet hair.
"The police force has made a request of Skinner."
She moved her head to look at him, but he took her chin and turned her
back around, resuming his brushing.
"They asked that we stick around for the rest of the week, until Friday.
They want us to be here for a 'finally solving this case' party."
Scully chuckled and held her head straight as he loosened the tangles
from her hair.
"Did Skinner agree to it?"
"Actually, yes. I suppose he felt bad that our honeymoon had to end like
this."
"He'd better feel bad," she grumbled.
His fingers worked through another tangle, and then the brush glided
through her hair like water. It was making her already tired body even
more relaxed.
"So, we've got two days to do whatever we want."
She smiled and turned around, taking the brush from his fingers.
"And I know exactly what I want," he added.
He smiled as her lips met his and used the moment to steal the brush
away from her.
He pulled back, smiled wickedly at her, then turned her back around and
resumed his duty.
She sighed and drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin there.
The gentle motions of his hand soothed her and soon she was fighting to
stay awake.
Carefully he moved her under the covers and laid her down, kissing her
mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, doing his best to seduce her.
She murmured and opened her heavy-lidded eyes.
"Sorry, Mulder. . .I-"
"Rest, Scully. We've got a couple of days. You had the autopsy this
morning, I forgot."
"I'm sorry, Mulder," she murmured again, but her eyes were already
slipping shut.
He watched her fall asleep, then traced the path of her face, letting
his fingers memorize her every surface.
Then he drew her close to him and breathed in the smell of a Florida
tan, shower soap, and Scully.
It didn't matter she had fallen asleep.
He was satisfied.
~~~~~
end
adios
RM