582 lines
28 KiB
Plaintext
582 lines
28 KiB
Plaintext
From netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!caen!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uunet!mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!nyx10.cs.du.edu!not-for-mail Fri Dec 9 13:22:05 1994
|
|
Path: netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!caen!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uunet!mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!nyx10.cs.du.edu!not-for-mail
|
|
From: dadavis@nyx10.cs.du.edu (Deborah Davis)
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
|
|
Subject: Christmas Story - pt.1
|
|
Date: 9 Dec 1994 00:37:30 -0700
|
|
Organization: University of Denver, Dept. of Math & Comp. Sci.
|
|
Lines: 238
|
|
Distribution: na
|
|
Message-ID: <3c91fq$em3@nyx10.cs.du.edu>
|
|
NNTP-Posting-Host: nyx10.cs.du.edu
|
|
|
|
There is no X-file case in this tale; it's strictly a
|
|
relationship story, and it's also bound to disappoint anyone
|
|
who's looking for a Mulder-Scully romance. I just got to
|
|
thinking about what can happen to friendships (especially
|
|
male-female ones?) as friends' lives change over time. This
|
|
was the result. I wrote it in one long sitting, which has
|
|
NEVER happened for me before, and which serves as my excuse
|
|
for any lapses in grammer or spelling.
|
|
|
|
This is my first posting to this group, and my first fanfic
|
|
ever. I'd love to hear from anyone who has an opinion on
|
|
it. Please let me know if I bungle any of the technical
|
|
aspects of posting.
|
|
Address comments and flames to: dadavis@nyx.cs.du.edu
|
|
|
|
The characters are, of course, the property of Chris Carter
|
|
and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and no copyright infringement
|
|
is intended.
|
|
|
|
A
|
|
CHRISTMAS STORY -- Part 1
|
|
|
|
She found him in a bar, which wasn't entirely unusual.
|
|
It *was* unusual that he wasn't alone. Fox Mulder didn't
|
|
ususally go in for office celebrations, but this evening he
|
|
and two dozen other agents were celebrating the retirement
|
|
of his latest partner, and Mulder thought it only polite to
|
|
put in an appearance. Even if he was the one who'd driven
|
|
Agent Salter into an early retirement.
|
|
"Well, it's only three months early, and it's not like
|
|
I did anything to him personally," Mulder thought. It was
|
|
just that the X Files -- and maybe Mulder -- were more than
|
|
Salter wanted to cope with at this stage of his career.
|
|
Salter hadn't been so bad to work with, Mulder reflected.
|
|
He was certainly an improvement over the previous partner
|
|
Skinner had assigned him, a ladder-climbing rookie who
|
|
resented being assigned to the Bureau's "spooky" backwater.
|
|
Even with Skinner's support, the X files were clearly not
|
|
the place for an ambitious newbie to launch a career, and
|
|
Mulder had not been sorry to see the rookie transfer. He
|
|
wished he could convince Skinner to just let him work alone,
|
|
but the book said agents work in pairs, and Skinner was
|
|
strictly by-the-book.
|
|
Mulder sighed. He'd worked, on a temporary basis,
|
|
with several competent agents, but he doubted any of them
|
|
wanted the assignment on a permanently. Working the X files
|
|
required a special person, someone flexible but not
|
|
gullible, open -- at least a little -- to extreme
|
|
possibilities, and able to cope with having the rational
|
|
world turned on its head from time to time. Plus, Mulder
|
|
had his own standards for intelligence, professionalism,
|
|
loyalty . . . There had been such a person, not all that
|
|
long ago, but these days she worked on the other end of the
|
|
continent. Mulder was thinking of her when he spied hair of
|
|
a familiar coppery shade moving through the crowd.
|
|
He couldn't see anything but the top of her head behind
|
|
the burly shoulders of the crowd of agents, but the color
|
|
was right, and the height. He even thought there was
|
|
something familiar about the pace of her movement throught
|
|
the crowd. He had just got to his feet for a better look,
|
|
when the crowd parted, leaving them momentarily looking
|
|
straight at each other.
|
|
"Close but no cigar," he thought, as he took in the
|
|
sharp little features, the lithe figure, the fringed dress
|
|
and granny boots Scully would never have worn. When he saw
|
|
that she recognized him and headed straight for his table,
|
|
he didn't know whether to be pleased or apprehensive.
|
|
"Hello, Fox."
|
|
"Hello, Melissa," he greeted Scully's sister.
|
|
She looked pointedly at the emptychairs the other
|
|
agents had left when they moved to surround the pool table
|
|
at the other end of the room. "Drinking alone?"
|
|
"No, the celebration just moved on without me." She
|
|
kept looking at the chairs until he invited her to sit in
|
|
one. There was something slightly combatative about the way
|
|
she was looking at him, he thought, something disapproving.
|
|
If Dana looked at him that way, he'd be expecting a lecture
|
|
for sure.
|
|
"What can I get you," he asked, signalling the waiter.
|
|
"White wine."
|
|
He smiled. "Won't it mess up your aura?" She was
|
|
wearing a crystal around her neck, so he figured she was
|
|
still into all that New Age junk.
|
|
For the first time, she smiled at him. "Same old Fox.
|
|
I think my aura can handle it."
|
|
While they waited for the drinks, he cast about for
|
|
something to say. He couldn't imagine that they had
|
|
anything in common. "What are you doing these days?"
|
|
"Still running my bookstore." Mulder pictured one of
|
|
those New Age places, with plenty of incense and books on
|
|
improving your karma. "You should come in sometime," she
|
|
added, "We have a great science fiction section." OK, maybe
|
|
he'd jumped to conclusions, no incense after all.
|
|
"How's the family?" he asked casually
|
|
"How's the family," she mimicked. "Oh, Fox, you are
|
|
too much!"
|
|
Now, he was puzzled. "I don't understand. How's Dana?"
|
|
"Fox," and by now he was sure she was using the name
|
|
deliberately to annoy him, "Dana is hurt. You don't call;
|
|
you don't return her calls --"
|
|
"That's not true!" But it wasn't entirely false
|
|
either, he thought uncomfortably. "Did she say that?"
|
|
"She didn't have to; she was just evasive when I asked
|
|
how you were. And I could tell she was hurt."
|
|
"Because you're psychic." He was sarcastic.
|
|
"Because I'm perceptive -- which may be the same thing
|
|
a lot of the time."
|
|
For a moment, they glared at each other.
|
|
"Melissa, I've just been --"
|
|
"Busy, yes I'm sure."
|
|
"Look, Dana has a new life in California, a husband, a
|
|
career that's finally going somewhere -- believe me, the
|
|
last thing she needs is to hear from me."
|
|
"Fine, stay angry." Abruptly, the fire seemed to go
|
|
out of her, and she rose. "But I wasn't thinking of her
|
|
career; I just thought she could use a friend."
|
|
She was three steps away from the table when he caught
|
|
up to her and turned her around.
|
|
"What do you mean? Is something wrong with Dana?"
|
|
She sighed and sat back down. "If you kept in touch
|
|
you'd know. Daniel's been sick. They spent all summer
|
|
going to doctors. It's MS."
|
|
"Oh." He couldn't think of a thing to say. He thought
|
|
of Daniel Seton, the brilliant researcher and writer Dana
|
|
had married and moved to California for. He could guess how
|
|
little that man would like becoming disabled or depending on
|
|
others. "What can I do?"
|
|
"You can call her." Melissa stood up again. "Better
|
|
yet, come for Christmas dinner; she'll be there." She
|
|
headed back into the crowd before he could answer. Over her
|
|
shoulder, she added, "If you get hungry before then, you can
|
|
always take me to dinner."
|
|
***
|
|
At five a.m., Mulder was sprawled in his desk chair,
|
|
staring at his computer screen. When he slept especially
|
|
badly, it was easier to come in early than to sit in his
|
|
apartment. His hands hovered just over the keyboard for the
|
|
last few minutes.
|
|
"You are not going to do this," he told himself.
|
|
"It's pathetic."
|
|
But his fingers had a will of their own. They typed
|
|
out the commands to access the Bureau's database
|
|
geographically, then entered the code for the Los Angeles
|
|
office. The California offices were even more computerized
|
|
than the Washington headquarters. A staggering amount of
|
|
information was available to an agent with his clearance:
|
|
statistics, case summaries, agents' field reports. You
|
|
could even look up the reports of a particular agent.
|
|
He pulled up Scully's latest report, impeccably written
|
|
and turned in on time as always, and began to read. He
|
|
wasn't much interested in the case, he just liked the
|
|
intimate sensation of reading over her shoulder. He
|
|
remembered her reports from their first cases together.
|
|
"There is no evidence to support or disprove Agent Mulder's
|
|
conclusions . . . This agent can neither substantiate nor
|
|
refute Agent Mulder's observations . . . Evidence does not
|
|
support his theory . . ." He skimmed the current report for
|
|
phrases that reminded him of her voice, the voice he hadn't
|
|
heard since the last message on his answering machine,
|
|
months ago. He hadn't returned her call.
|
|
He glanced at the clock. He certainly couldn't call
|
|
her now; it was the middle of the night in California.
|
|
Scully was undoubtedly sleeping peacefully beside her
|
|
husband.
|
|
Was he jealous of Daniel? For the hundredth time, he
|
|
raised the charge and acquitted himself. He wasn't jealous,
|
|
at least not as most people understood the word. He'd never
|
|
considered Scully romantically; well, maybe a fantasy here
|
|
and there -- who wouldn't? -- but it was nothing serious,
|
|
nothing he woud die from. He didn't begrudge her any
|
|
happiness. He even admired Daniel, a brilliant chemist with
|
|
a wide-ranging intellect, who successfully wrote books both
|
|
within and outside his field. Daniel Seton had a sardonic
|
|
wit, a keen imagination, and a strong devotion to his work.
|
|
He was, as Melissa had once observed, quite a bit like Fox
|
|
Mulder -- except that Daniel was not too obsessed with his
|
|
work to marry Dana and raise a daughter from his first
|
|
marriage.
|
|
No, the only thing he held against Daniel was that he'd
|
|
taken Scully away from him. It still hurt that she could
|
|
abandon their partnership and the work they'd done together.
|
|
Maybe Scully could be just as happy chasing bank robbers, or
|
|
serial skateboarders, or whatever they had out in L.A., but
|
|
the X files were Mulder's life. He'd thought -- hoped --
|
|
they'd become just as important to her. In some childish
|
|
part of his mind, he still cherished the dream that, with
|
|
Scully's help, he'd find his sister, or at least find out
|
|
what happened to her. His search had become the most
|
|
important part of him. He'd shared it with Scully, and
|
|
she'd just dropped it when it became inconvenient.
|
|
He knew that wasn't fair. In more honest moments, he
|
|
knew that she worried about him, worried that no one could
|
|
watch his back the way she did. (She was probably right.)
|
|
He remembered her face the day she told him she was leaving.
|
|
He could tell she hadn't slept and that she dreaded what she
|
|
had to say.
|
|
"Daniel's been building up this lab for twelve years,"
|
|
she'd told him. "Assembling the staff, gathering the
|
|
grants. It's his vision. I can't ask him to give that up
|
|
when there's a good opening for me in the Los Angelos
|
|
office.
|
|
"I never expected this, Mulder. I never thought anyone
|
|
could get between me and my work, but that's the way it
|
|
is."
|
|
She'd asked him to be happy for her, but he hadn't been
|
|
able to do it. He'd tried to say all the appropriate
|
|
things, but she knew him too well to be fooled. He wasn't
|
|
sincere; he was simmering with resentment, and that's how
|
|
he'd sent her away, pretending he didn't give a damn where
|
|
she went.
|
|
Well, he had a chance to see her again, if that could
|
|
make any difference. If he went.
|
|
He wished it were a different time of year. For no
|
|
good reason, he thought suddenly of a night in the Oregon
|
|
wilderness, when they'd sat shoulder to shoulder waiting for
|
|
morning, hoping green glowing bugs didn't kill them before
|
|
it came. Was it really easier for him to face death with
|
|
someone than Christmas dinner?
|
|
If only Christmas didn't come with all those memories.
|
|
("Look at my red dress, Fox! Aren't I beautiful?")
|
|
("Look at what Santa brought me, Fox! Will you play
|
|
with me?")
|
|
("Look what I got you -- I made it myself!")
|
|
Christmas brought back the past, and in the past
|
|
Samantha was always waiting.
|
|
"Grow up, Mulder," he told himself. "Think of someone
|
|
elses's problems for a change."
|
|
Impatiently, he cleared the field report from his
|
|
screen. He grabbed his jacket and decided to go out for
|
|
breakfast.
|
|
*"I just thought she could use a friend."* That remark
|
|
cut into him like a knife. *"If you get hungry before then,
|
|
you can always take me to dinner."* What was that about?
|
|
He wondered if he'd find Melissa Scully so annoying if she
|
|
wasn't always playing his concience.
|
|
If she wasn't always right.
|
|
****
|
|
|
|
|
|
From netnews.upenn.edu!news.amherst.edu!news.mtholyoke.edu!uhog.mit.edu!bloom-beacon.mit.edu!panix!zip.eecs.umich.edu!newsxfer.itd.umich.edu!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uunet!mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!nyx10.cs.du.edu!not-for-mail Fri Dec 9 13:22:06 1994
|
|
Path: netnews.upenn.edu!news.amherst.edu!news.mtholyoke.edu!uhog.mit.edu!bloom-beacon.mit.edu!panix!zip.eecs.umich.edu!newsxfer.itd.umich.edu!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uunet!mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!nyx10.cs.du.edu!not-for-mail
|
|
From: dadavis@nyx10.cs.du.edu (Deborah Davis)
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
|
|
Subject: Christmas Story - pt 2
|
|
Date: 9 Dec 1994 00:38:28 -0700
|
|
Organization: University of Denver, Dept. of Math & Comp. Sci.
|
|
Lines: 317
|
|
Distribution: na
|
|
Message-ID: <3c91hk$eom@nyx10.cs.du.edu>
|
|
NNTP-Posting-Host: nyx10.cs.du.edu
|
|
|
|
There is no X-file case in this tale; it's strictly a
|
|
relationship story, and it's also bound to disappoint anyone
|
|
who's looking for a Mulder-Scully romance. I just got to
|
|
thinking about what can happen to friendships (especially
|
|
male-female ones?) as friends' lives change over time. This
|
|
was the result. I wrote it in one long sitting, which has
|
|
NEVER happened for me before, and which serves as my excuse
|
|
for any lapses in grammer or spelling.
|
|
|
|
This is my first posting to this group, and my first fanfic
|
|
ever. I'd love to hear from anyone who has an opinion on
|
|
it. Please let me know if I bungle any of the technical
|
|
aspects of posting.
|
|
Address comments and flames to: dadavis@nyx.cs.du.edu
|
|
|
|
The characters are, of course, the property of Chris Carter
|
|
and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and no copyright infringement
|
|
is intended.
|
|
|
|
A
|
|
CHRISTMAS STORY -- Part 2
|
|
|
|
Christmas day had filled the Scully house with the
|
|
smells of cooking and the sound of children's laughter. The
|
|
newest grandchild was screaming for a bottle, Christmas
|
|
carols were playing on the stereo,and Margaret and her older
|
|
daughter were at work in the kitchen when they heard a car
|
|
in the drive. Melissa looked out the window and smiled with
|
|
satisfaction. "Mom, we need to set another place for
|
|
dinner."
|
|
She met him at the door. "If it isn't the Grinch"
|
|
"If it isn't the Little Drummer Girl," he answered,
|
|
handing her a shopping bag of presents.
|
|
"You shopped." She peered into the bag. "Football
|
|
videos for everyone, right?"
|
|
"Only for those who were good this year."
|
|
Two small boys careened past them as they entered the
|
|
living room.
|
|
"My nephews," she explained.
|
|
"We got 'Alien Combat'," one of them said, brandishing
|
|
a video game cassette. "Will you play with us?"
|
|
"Absolutely. It sounds like my line of work." Mulder
|
|
said, then he caught his breath. Out of the kitchen
|
|
steppped a little girl with long dark hair and a velvet
|
|
dress.
|
|
"This is Dana's stepdaughter, Sarah," said Melissa.
|
|
"Where's Dana, honey?" she asked the child.
|
|
"With Daddy."
|
|
Mulder kept looking at the child, dismayed. There
|
|
wasn't any resemblance really, just the dark hair, and a red
|
|
velvet dress like the one generations of girls must have
|
|
worn at Christmas. It just brought back memories he didn't
|
|
want right now. He turned away from her and looked down a
|
|
hallway -- and saw Dana.
|
|
She was half-turned away from him, talking to someone -
|
|
- Daniel, probably -- in the bedroom behind her. Mulder
|
|
found himself studying her. Was he expecting her to look
|
|
the same, or different? He wasn't sure. Her hair was about
|
|
the same, but the dress was like nothing he'd seen her wear
|
|
at work, all soft folds of green velvet, a grown-up version
|
|
of Sarah's. All the same, he noticed the crisply starched
|
|
collar and cuffs, the tightly cinched belt; it was as though
|
|
the neat, precise Sully-persona he knew was working its way
|
|
through all that uncharacteristic velvet and lace.
|
|
"Go ahead and rest; I'll call you for dinner," he heard
|
|
her say. Then she closed the door, and for a moment, her
|
|
shoulders slumped and he saw the strain in her face. He
|
|
also saw the moment that she straightened up and put it
|
|
aside. Then she turned and saw him.
|
|
For a moment, she looked so shocked he wondered if this
|
|
had been a good idea.
|
|
"Mulder? What --"
|
|
"Melissa invited me."
|
|
"Oh." She smiled slightly. "This must be my Christmas
|
|
surprise."
|
|
"Told you it wasn't a scarf this year," Melissa called
|
|
from over his shoulder somewhere. He could hear her herding
|
|
the children out of the living room to some other part of
|
|
the house. Dana came down the hall to join him. There was
|
|
an awkward moment when they met, as if neither of them were
|
|
sure what greeting was appropriate. He thought for a moment
|
|
she was going to hug him. They settled for grabbing each
|
|
others' hands.
|
|
"How have you been?"
|
|
"Fine. How are you?"
|
|
"Fine," she said insincerely. "California is fine."
|
|
"How is Daniel?"
|
|
She read his gaze and dropped his hands. "Melissa must
|
|
have told you."
|
|
"Yes. I'm sorry."
|
|
"Well" She looked away. "We're coping."
|
|
He felt he should say something more, but he didn't
|
|
know what it was. He felt the urge to touch her, caress
|
|
her shoulder or her face, but after all this time he no
|
|
longer felt comfortable doing that. Miserably, he stood
|
|
with his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to continue
|
|
this stilted little conversation they were having; it made
|
|
them seem like strangers. An uncomfortable silence
|
|
stretched between them.
|
|
"It was nice of you to come," she said at last, as if
|
|
he were some stranger who'd shown up at a funeral. "I know
|
|
how you hate these family things. It's all right if you
|
|
don't want to stay."
|
|
The polite dismissal in her voice cut into him. How
|
|
had he let this happen, he wondered desparately. More
|
|
importantly, how could he fix it? He suddenly realized how
|
|
badly he wanted to fix it.
|
|
"Scully, I . . . need . . . to apologize. Not just
|
|
because I didn't stay in touch, but . . . because . . . I
|
|
tried to make it hard for you to leave." At last, he'd
|
|
found the words he needed. "It wasn't fair." He held his
|
|
breath.
|
|
"No, it wasn't." Then she met his eyes. "but it's all
|
|
right."
|
|
"It is?"
|
|
"It is now." This time she smiled, not the teasing
|
|
grin he was used to, but the rare and radiant full smile.
|
|
He started breathing normally again and smiled back. "I
|
|
missed you." The words were out before he knew he was going
|
|
to say them. She smiled again, wrapped her arm around his,
|
|
and lead him toward the sofa.
|
|
"Now I want to hear how your new partner is working
|
|
out."
|
|
"Salter? Oh, I wore him out. You know, they just
|
|
aren't making partners like they used to."
|
|
***
|
|
It *was* all right, he decided as the day wore on, even
|
|
the family dinner, family jokes, and the nephews who
|
|
demanded he play with them. His presents went over well;
|
|
most of them were just generic: tins of cookies for the
|
|
adults, action figures and paint sets for the kids, a book
|
|
for Daniel. He'd bought scarves for Scully and her sister,
|
|
one short, soft, forest green wool, and one long silk
|
|
paisley with fringe.
|
|
"Well done," Melissa told him. She'd been shooting him
|
|
looks of approval all day, and he wasn't sure how he felt
|
|
about it. She made him nervous, he realized. It was one
|
|
thing to have Dana know him so well after all they had been
|
|
through. Melissa seemed to know him better than she should
|
|
on short acquaintance. It made him feel uncomfortably
|
|
transparent.
|
|
"Tell me something," he said under the hum of family
|
|
conversation. "Did we meet by chance the other night, or
|
|
were you looking for me?"
|
|
"Sheer serendipity, Mulder. You can call it chance if
|
|
you want to."
|
|
"But you call it -- what? -- Fate?" he asked, amused.
|
|
"I believe things happen for a purpose. Energies
|
|
converge. I think you believe that, too, when you're not in
|
|
denial." She handed him a small package. "This is for you.
|
|
I didn't tell anyone you were coming, but I had hope."
|
|
He opened the box and sniffed at the contents. "Should
|
|
I arrest myself for possessing this?"
|
|
"It's tea, Mulder. The kind you drink. I had my
|
|
herbalist make it up especially for you. It's good for
|
|
insomnia."
|
|
"It looks like lawn clippings."
|
|
"Closed minded, isn't he?" Melissa said to her sister.
|
|
"It's a selective thing. He believes in aliens, but
|
|
not herb tea."
|
|
They were laughing at him, and he was actually enjoying
|
|
it, until Sarah started to sing. A little girl's piping
|
|
voice, singing "Silent Night." It threw him back over 20
|
|
years.
|
|
("Fox, listen to me; everyone listen. I know all the
|
|
words!" And Sam's little girl voice, high and sweet and
|
|
full of Christmas excitement. . . )
|
|
"Mulder, are you all right?" There was a hand on his
|
|
arm. The words and the gesture were so familiar, he
|
|
expected Dana, and was surprised to find it was Melissa.
|
|
"Yeah."
|
|
She studied his face. "It's all right to feel what
|
|
you're feeling."
|
|
"Melissa . . ."
|
|
"Ok, no homily this time," she held up a hand to stop
|
|
his protests. "I just meant that it's natural to miss
|
|
someone at Christmas. I just wanted to know if you were all
|
|
right."
|
|
"I'm fine." And, surprisingly, he was.
|
|
Not long afterward, he decided to leave, and went
|
|
looking for his coat. Opening what he thought was a closet
|
|
off the hallway, he startled Daniel, who was seated at a
|
|
large desk in a room Mulder figured must have been Admiral
|
|
Scully's study.
|
|
"Oh! Sorry," he said, as Daniel dropped the small tape
|
|
recorder he'd been dictating into.
|
|
"It's OK. You just caught me in the act. Working on
|
|
Christmas; Dana would give me hell."
|
|
"Well, I promise not to tell her." He was about to
|
|
back out, but Daniel gestured him in.
|
|
"Have you got a moment?"
|
|
"Sure."
|
|
Carefully, Daniel retrieved the recorder from the
|
|
desktop and turned it off. From the way he held it, Mulder
|
|
could see he had trouble using his fingers. A heavy-looking
|
|
cane rested between his knees.
|
|
"What are you working on?" he asked, so he wouldn't
|
|
seem to be scrutinizing the man's disabiliites.
|
|
"I had an idea for a book that I needed to get down."
|
|
Daniel made a face at the recorder. "I hope I can get used
|
|
to this dictating business; I'm used to thinking and
|
|
revising as I type. I like to see my words." He waved away
|
|
Mulder's murmurs of sympathy. "That's not what I wanted to
|
|
talk about. Did Dana tell you we're planning on moving back
|
|
East?"
|
|
"No," Mulder said with some surprise.
|
|
"Well . . . it's still in the works, but I'm sure it's
|
|
what we want to do. We want to be near our families; I want
|
|
Sarah near her grandparents. It's funny how your
|
|
perspective can change; that lab I was sure I couldn't live
|
|
without will just have to get along without me now. But my
|
|
point is about Dana. She has this idea she'll take a leave
|
|
of absence, maybe quit working entirely, to help me. I
|
|
don't want that."
|
|
"No?"
|
|
"No! I didn't marry her to make her my nursemaid, and
|
|
I can hire an assisstant if I need one. Besides, I have
|
|
work to do. I'm not going to get any writing done with her
|
|
hovering and scolding. So I want your help."
|
|
"My help?"
|
|
"I want you to help get her back to work. Tire her up
|
|
and drag her in if you have to. "
|
|
"I doubt I can get Scully to do anything she doesn't
|
|
want to do."
|
|
"I'm not so sure about that. Anyway, I don't think she
|
|
knows what she wants in this case. Or she knows, but she's
|
|
doing what she thinks I need. But she's wrong. Tell her
|
|
you need her help. Tell her aliens are rearranging your
|
|
furniture, I don't know! Just help me convince her to do
|
|
what we both know she's happiest doing."
|
|
"I'll try."
|
|
"Good." Daniel grinned. "I have faith in you. . By
|
|
the way, how long have you been seeing Melissa?"
|
|
"Seeing . . .? I'm not."
|
|
He must have looked shocked; Daniel laughed. "My
|
|
mistake -- I think! Go get started on Dana, so I can finish
|
|
this damned dictating before she catches me."
|
|
Out in the hall, Mulder located the closet, and
|
|
retrieved his coat. Before he could put it on, Melissa
|
|
appeared and relieved him of it. "You won't need that just
|
|
yet. I want to go for a walk later."
|
|
"A walk?" Why did this woman always catch him off
|
|
balance?
|
|
"To look at the stars. It's the way I like to end
|
|
Christmas. I just have to help get the kids to bed first."
|
|
She was gone with the coat before he could protest. "I am
|
|
in the hands of Scullys," he thought. "There is no escape."
|
|
He sat alone in the living room for a while, watching
|
|
the lights on the tree, listening to the sounds of children
|
|
being put to bed, and adults retreating to their rooms.
|
|
Margaret Scully looked in on him once. "Oh, Fox, you're
|
|
still here. There's a bed made up for you in the guest
|
|
room; Dana can show you. She's in the kitchen. Good night
|
|
and Merry Christmas!"
|
|
Mulder headed for the kitchen, and found Dana loading
|
|
the dishwasher. She looked worn out.
|
|
"Scully! I finally get to see you do something
|
|
domestic!"
|
|
She smiled. "I was thinking of the year my dad gave
|
|
mom this machine as a Christmas present."
|
|
"Oooh, how romantic."
|
|
"It was, actually. It was his way of pledging that
|
|
they were finally settling down, after all those years of
|
|
moving from one Navy base to another."
|
|
"I take it back; it's a very romantic dishwasher." He
|
|
moved to help her load. "Are you all right?" he asked
|
|
softly.
|
|
"Isn't that usually my line? I'm fine." She didn't
|
|
look up, but he could hear the unshed tears in her voice
|
|
"It's just that it's so hard to see someone you love . . .
|
|
struggle."
|
|
"I know." Now, it was easy to put a hand on her
|
|
shoulder, to brush a stray hair out of her eyes. "He's a
|
|
great guy, Scully."
|
|
"It means a lot that you think so."
|
|
For a moment, they stared at each other, smiling.
|
|
Enough had been said. He went back to loading dishes.
|
|
"So, can you come into the office tomorrow, Scully? I
|
|
have something I want you to see."
|
|
"Tomorrow? The day after Christmas?"
|
|
"Does crime take a holiday? I need your professional
|
|
opinion on something."
|
|
"Tomorrow I promised to take Sarah skating."
|
|
"You ice skate?"
|
|
"I had a few lessons as a kid."
|
|
"Ah, a budding Dorothy Hamil."
|
|
"I preferred to play hockey with my brothers."
|
|
"A budding Wayne Gretzky. I should have known." He
|
|
cocked his head, looking at her from a different angle. "I
|
|
keep forgetting; you're someone's mother now."
|
|
She laughed out loud this time. "It's true. Things
|
|
really have changed."
|
|
"Not all things."
|
|
"No, not all things," she agreed. The clear affection
|
|
in her blue-green eyes warmed him. "I could come Tuesday."
|
|
"I'll dust. There's a lot of room in that basement
|
|
these days, Scully."
|
|
Before she could answer, an impatient tapping at the
|
|
window made them both jump. Melissa stood outside, holding
|
|
his coat.
|
|
"I forgot; she wants to go for a walk."
|
|
Dana nodded. "Does it every Christmas; it's become a
|
|
tradition. When we were girls, she used to say she was
|
|
saying good night to the stars."
|
|
Mulder gave an exaggerated sigh. "We're probably going
|
|
to read their auras. You coming?"
|
|
"I wasn't invited this year." Dana looked amused.
|
|
"You know, " she said, looking out at her sister, "this is
|
|
one thing that may take some getting used to . .."
|
|
"For you and me both." he said wryly.
|
|
He left her laughing as he went to join the waiting
|
|
woman.
|
|
|
|
THE END
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|