From: Subject: xfc: New: Spooky Scully and the Ice King by Gina Rain (Part 1 of 2) Date: Wednesday, May 16, 2001 1:38 PM Title: Spooky Scully and the Ice King Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com) Category: MSR, S, A Spoilers: Season 8 (although it's not really a season 8 fic), Fight the Future, and The Beginning Archive: Sure. Summary: Sometimes, in order to face the future, you need to visit the past. Disclaimer: David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson ARE the X-files. This generation of the series, anyway. It legally belongs to CC, 1013 and Fox. They should get proper respect for that but they should also all get down on their collective knees and pay homage to the actors who gave these characters soul and dignity--through it all--including season 8. Um, I guess this is a kind of iffy disclaimer, isn't it? Don't tell anyone, okay? < No. We are WE.> He closed his eyes and willed his brain to slow. He wanted time back. He yearned for it. No, not even that. What he really wanted was to rewrite history. "Do you want to share with the class, Mulder?" Her voice interrupted his thoughts. Interrupted the night. His soul rejoiced as much as it could nowadays. And it was getting easier. Even he could see that. "Share? As in sharing thoughts? Why, Sister Spooky--you've changed even more than I imagined since I've been. . ." He couldn't say it. She didn't like the "d" word. She deserved never to hear the "d" word again. "Mulder. If you want to refer to me as Spooky anything, kindly use the term, 'Mrs. Spooky.' I have never felt very sisterly toward you." She stood before him as he sat on the armrest of the couch. It had been a good place to stare aimlessly out of the window, while his thoughts wandered in their usual nocturnal field trip. The light of the moon gave her hair a soft, smoky glow. It was a full moon. That surprised him. He hadn't noticed before she came into the room. "I don't know, Scully. 'Mrs.' implies a voluntary commitment. You sure you want to own up to that?" "Very," she ran her fingers lightly through his hair. It felt good. It felt very, very real. "Now, you were about to tell me what you were thinking about." "I was?" "Yes. You were." He took a deep breath. No secrets. No big deal. "I was thinking about how I'd like to change our first time." "What was wrong with our first time?" "Nothing. It's just that it happened too late. " "Too late for what?" "Too late for us to enjoy being you and me--we. Instead of the grand WE that we are now." She smiled a little. She understood. She really had turned into Spooky Scully. "Exactly when would you have liked our first time to have been?" "That night we shared a bed. " "Um, Mulder. . ." "Not sharing it like that. I mean, platonically. On our way back from Boston, remember?" "Oh." "I gather you don't agree." "Well, no--I don't." "Why not?" "Because--I really can't think of a time I disliked you more." November, 1997 Cold, so cold. Such a cold, heartless bastard. She had asked if they could stay in Boston one more night. The case was solved; the weekend had officially arrived. No backlog of work waiting in D.C. Storms had been predicted all day long. Up and down the East coast. At least, in the morning, the worst would be over and the plows would have cleared the major roadways. But Mulder had to be Mulder. Always on the run. Even if running toward nothing. Maybe he did have something to run to. Someone. She shuddered and drew her jacket more tightly around herself. She didn't look to her left to see if Mulder was experiencing any discomfort. She knew the answer to that anyway. Nothing ever got to him. He probably enjoyed the lack of heat in the car. Kept his senses alert. Kept him constantly poised for action. It was all for the quest. Well, it's not like he didn't warn her. Right from the start. Only one thing mattered. Compassion toward his partner did not enter into the equation. She was expected to be superhuman. Nothing less was tolerated. <"Fox, I'm chilly. Can we just pull over and find a hotel?"> She could almost hear the smarmy, low tones of Diana's voice in the car. Worse than that, she could almost hear the screech of the brakes as she imagined Mulder's haste in accommodating her. Great, Scully thought. She couldn't even catch a break in her own imagination. But that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? She couldn't reach past the boundaries of reality--not even in a daydream. The one time she had done it before had taught her a lesson that would not easily be forgotten. A few months ago, they clutched at each other for dear life in the middle of nowhere. Cold the likes of which neither had ever felt brought about an emotional stripping that had allowed every ounce raw emotion to surface and even death didn't seem as strong as the bond they had at that moment. That was a fantasy. They came back and everything had changed. She wasn't repressing her love because of a cause greater than the two of them. Greater than anyone or anything. She was repressing it because it wasn't returned. "You keep me honest." Pretty words but not what he needed or wanted in this life. It was just all he had at the time. He needed someone and would go to the ends of the earth not to be left totally alone again. But when 'she' came back into the picture, he had what he really wanted. Someone to agree with him. Someone to smile at all his jokes; nod seriously at all his ravings. Warm his bed at night. What more could he ask for? Maybe a guilt-free way to get rid of his current partner. Which is why she was the recipient of subtle and not so subtle hostility. Maybe he was hoping she'd blow up and leave. Her choice. Not his. Can't stand the heat… In the meantime, poor Mulder was stuck with Scully. And poor Scully--well, she had no right to feel sorry for herself. Others seemed to want the job of Fox Mulder's partner and she should just feel grateful that it belonged to her. She turned her body as much as she could so she almost completely faced the passenger's side window. The steadily falling snow seemed to make the internal temperature in the car much colder than even the broken heater could account for. If he had any feelings for her, as a human being, they never would have left Boston until the car was repaired or replaced by a rental. He knew the heater was beyond hope five minutes into the trip. Of course, if he had any feelings for her, they would never have got into the car in the first place. He would give more than a casual thought that she might--just might--be suffering a little post traumatic stress from her time in Antarctica. That the cold might represent more than even the sizable physical discomfort. He had expected her to bounce back like the Energizer Bunny and being the good little rabbit she was, she had. Showed up to work with signs of frostbite covering her cheeks. Stood as proud and as tall as her small frame would allow. Ready to take on everyone. Ready to stand by his side. Still ready to stand by his side. Sit by his side. While the lummox drives on--uncaring--while she alternates between freezing to death and having flashbacks of being wet and naked in sub zero temperature. And feeling so lonely. Lonelier than when she was, in actuality, completely alone. There was very little connection now. Just two people doing their jobs. She closed her eyes tightly. She felt so tired. With any luck, hypothermia would be setting in and she'd be drifting off to a coma any minute now. It would be better than having him know she was crying. Over him. What the fuck is wrong with her now? he wondered. She had been acting strangely for weeks. First, she pulled the "I barely remember a thing of what happened to me in Antarctica" bit. Then, she hounded poor Diana. Just because she had enough faith in him to believe without scientific proof. Scully certainly had the ability to find proof but the capacity to just let go enough and believe in him. . .no. He supposed she probably wanted an apology for some of the silent treatment he had been giving her but she should actually consider herself quite lucky. He was fighting against the desire to just let go and blow up. Scream at her until she saw the light. Knowing that she never would. Now, she was sitting in a corner--looking, for all intents and purposes, like she was trying to will her body through the car door and out into the snow. And she was crying. And he knew she thought she was doing a good job of concealing it. He had been watching her, on and off, for quite some time. A hand would come out from where it was hugging her own waist, and creep up to her face, brushing something near her eye before returning to its bizarre embrace. Was she really just sulking because she wanted them to stay in Boston? He didn't want to get stuck there all weekend. The city would damned near be shut down during a storm and with the way they were interacting, that could only mean extreme discomfort for both of them. He didn't know exactly what went wrong. They had been so close before she started behaving irrationally. Still, maybe he imagined the intimacy. It's not like they ever capitalized on their near encounter in his hallway. Hell, he wasn't even sure she remembered it. She never said anything. He moved his head to the right and left, working out a kink in his neck. They only had another three hours or so on the road. As they drove in a southerly direction, the snow wasn't as bad as it had been in New England. Of course, it might have been nice if the fucking car had heat but it's not like they hadn't been in rough conditions before. They were troopers. Scully was kicking herself. The more she tried to stop her uncharacteristic bout of tears, the more they flowed freely. She wasn't brushing them away fast enough before another would slide down her cheek. She needed to see someone when they got back home. Not a Bureau shrink, either. She could never completely trust a Bureau counsellor to keep what she said in complete confidence no matter what oaths they took. If she indicated difficulty dealing with Mulder, they would soon be separated. She had no doubt about it. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Perhaps they would partner him with a tall, leggy brunette with industrial strength tits. Why not? One was already in the office. All they had to do was get rid of Spender and he was no great loss to the x-files anyway. She would make an appointment. She should have done that the minute they got back from Antarctica. She was losing it because she never dealt with any of her emotions or fears. There. All nicely rationalized. Even her madness could be neatly categorized for easy . . .reference. God. Everything. Everything revolved around him. Everything came back to something they experienced. Something he said. Something she responded to. She was his wife without any fringe benefits. No, scratch that. She was a dinosaur. Women didn't have modern marriages in this way. They didn't give themselves up, totally and completely, to one person. She could have all the arguments with him she wanted. She could keep a separate apartment and pretend to have a separate life. It was all a sham. Her entire life revolved around him. And she doubted she'd get so much as a once a year Christmas card out of him if they parted now. She had finally fallen asleep and that's when it got to him. She was softly hiccoughing. Just like a child who cried itself into a non-peaceful slumber. He was tired and had to pee, anyway. They could stop and she could run off to the ladies room and compose herself. He stopped at one of the endless traveler's rest stops along the I-95. She still hadn't woken up. He went around to her side and opened the passenger's door and she stirred when a cold gust of wind hit her square in the face. He took her arm from its tightly locked position around her own body and grabbed her hand. Ice cold. Even though it had been tucked against her. He hadn't felt her this cold since. . . "Why didn't you tell me you were cold?" He spit out. She looked at him. Eyes still sleepy. Still red-rimmed. His tone of voice woke her up quickly. She snatched her hand away from his. "I thought begging to stay in our warm motel in Boston was enough groveling for one night. Pick me up a cup of coffee, if it's not too much of a bother. I have to go to the bathroom." He watched her stalk off on unsteady legs. She went straight to the rest room as he made his way to the restaurant section and ordered coffee for two. First she was crying; now she was angry. And they called him Spooky. The way she had been acting lately. . .so unlike any vision he ever held of her. With the weather the way it was, at least two and a half more hours on the road lay ahead of them. In a car with no heater. Maybe she wasn't feeling well. The tears, the anger and now the extremely long stay in the bathroom was convincing him of that. He watched her coffee get cold and signaled to the waitress. Scully stood, warming herself with the hand dryer, for several minutes. She only gave up her spot when someone else needed to use it. Finally, her fingers could move again without much discomfort and she used them to apply a fresh coat of makeup. She rarely did this in the middle of the night when Mulder was her only companion. But she needed the layer of defense it gave her. And she needed a little camouflage for her earlier crying jag. Hopefully, they could get through this break quickly so they could get in the car and be home in a few more hours. Home. She'd lock herself in. Double bolt the door. Put a chair under the door knob and not move from her bedroom until at least Monday. She mentally counted her vacation and sick days. She had enough accumulated of both to last quite a while. She wouldn't use them but the option gave her courage and she stepped into the restaurant to find no trace of Mulder. Fucker. Cold, heartless bastard. Fucking cold heartless bastard. Jackass. She went up and ordered a large cup of coffee and went outside to the car. He was already seated behind the steering wheel. She got in and resisted the urge to slam the door closed. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his actions disturbed her. She broke open the small perforated section of the coffee lid and took a sip. If she drank slowly, she might make it last a while. Keep the cold at bay for a half-hour, maybe. Mulder silently started the car and drove. Scully watched through the window with eyes that weren't paying all that much attention to anything. Until she noticed they were not on the highway. She wouldn't ask. He probably asked for directions of some sort and found a short cut. That's all they needed. To get lost at this point. He stopped the car and got out. Traveler's Rest Motel. She watched as he stood by the large picture window that was lit with harsh florescent lights. The office, she would imagine. No curtains. Like a mini-stage. Mulder handed a credit card to the bored receptionist and soon she handed it back with a key. He came out and opened the trunk. Then, her door opened without ceremony. "Let's go. We've got a room." She sat there. "Come on. You're cold. I've got us a room. With heat. That actually works." A small smile crept across his face. One that she almost forgot about. It had been so long since she had seen it. Directed toward her, anyway. And it was genuine. She got out of the car and followed him. Was there any other option? (Continued in Part 2) Visit the Rain Room...fan fiction by Gina Rain http://www.geocities.com/ginarainfic To post, mail to xfc-ATXC@yahoogroups.com To subscribe, mail xfc-ATXC-subscribe@yahoogroups.com To unsubscribe, mail xfc-ATXC-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ She emerged from a very hot shower feeling a bit warmer. But just a bit. That worried her in some vague way. Maybe she really hadn't felt all that warm in months but only noticed now. Or maybe she was just going insane. That was an option to consider. Strangely comforting, in a bizarre way. She hoped insanity would bring a sense of peace. That would be nice. She rummaged through her travelling case. She had a pair of sweat pants and an old tee shirt that looked warmer than her satin pajamas. She put them on, added a pair of socks, and went out to their room. One room. Didn't worry her at all. No question of rule breaking now. He didn't seem to care one way or the other. That much was confirmed when she saw the cot he had unfolded and rolled parallel to the bed. Always reassuring to know you're right. She went straight for it and pulled one of the spare blankets that was stacked at the foot of the bed. He stood on the other side of the room, staring at her. "What are you doing?" "I'm baking a cake. What does it look like I'm doing?" "The bed, Scully, is yours." "No. There is absolutely no way you can fit on this small thing and I have no problems with it whatsoever. So, forget it." "Get in the bed, Scully. I'm not kidding." She got on the cot and snuggled under the covers. "Fuck you, Mulder," she murmured into the pillow as she closed her eyes tightly. She felt herself, and her blanket, being lifted from the cot and deposited, none too gently, on the bed. She sat up and squelched a desire to murder him without further hesitation. "Mulder--I don't know what the hell is wrong with you but if you want to sleep with your legs hanging off the fucking bed--be my guest. I'm sick of trying to second-guess you." She wiggled herself under the tightly made bedding and smoothed out the blanket that came with her during her unexpected mid-air flight. She rolled to her side and made herself comfortable again. Until he crawled in next to her and draped himself casually around her in a spooning position. "Mulder?" "Shhhh. . .when you fall asleep, I'll go to the cot. You need to warm up. You're still very cold, you know." "So are you." "Me? No, I don't feel cold." "I didn't say you 'felt' cold." Too much information. Too much revelation. "You think I am cold?" He asked with a tone of genuine amazement in his voice. "Yes. I do," she said softly, feeling the tears stuck in a small ball lodged somewhere in her throat. "Look, Scully. I wasn't thinking before when you asked me to stay in Massachusetts. . ." "No. You weren't. But why would you. It's only me, right?" It was kind of easy to talk to him when she wasn't looking at him. Kind of like confession. The option of face-to-face confession was there but she preferred the old, dark booths. She liked this. "Tell me. Tell me what you're feeling," he quietly asked. "No," she sighed. She wanted to but it would just start another argument. Adding more ugliness to the ugly situation they were already in. "Tell me, I really want to know." "You think I'm so strong. All the time. And God knows, I try to be. I try to live up to your expectations. To everyone's expectations. But, don't you think--for one minute--that sometimes it's just too much? Sometimes the cup is filled to capacity and overflow is inevitable? With the cold weather, I've been having flashbacks of what happened to me and even if I didn't--don't you think it's going to take a little longer than a few months to get over something like that? Especially if I never had the chance to deal with it in the first place. But, no--why should you? You're Spooky Mulder--profiler extraordinaire who can get into everyone's heads and feel what everyone is feeling. But not the Ice Queen's. Why even try? Everyone knows she feels nothing." Shit. A few tears had started rolling again. But he couldn't see that. And her voice gave nothing away. As long as she kept breathing, kept breathing. Regular, steady breaths. But he wasn't saying anything. He was probably asleep. She almost laughed out loud at the thought. The ultimate irony. What do I say to that? he thought. She's was right, of course. He hadn't given her traumatic experience with the alien virus much thought. Not as to how it might still be affecting her. Once she was rescued, he thought of how it affected the world; how stupid she had made him look during the review board meeting; how it tied in with colonization. He hadn't thought it bothered her on a base level. The fact that she kept everything inside was no surprise to him so he should have made allowances for it. "I'm sorry, Scully." She sighed softly. "No," she said. "Forget it. I'm expecting you to read my mind again. That's probably unfair. I haven't really been feeling well and. . .I don't know what I want. I--just don't want this." "This?" He tightened his grip around her. Funny how that was his first instinct. He wouldn't say the words but he knew that somewhere in his psyche a little voice was saying, "mine," and holding on for dear life. "The way things are lately, Mulder. When we got back to the D.C., I swear, no matter how bad things looked, I thought we could take on the world and win because we were so. . .connected. And it's all fallen apart since then. All of it. Maybe we just need different things. Maybe--you could talk to--Diana--and have her use her influence to get you back onto the x-files. I can--be reassigned elsewhere and. . ." "No." He gripped her almost painfully now. "I don't want to work with Diana. I want to work with you. Is this what it's all about?" "She's part of it, but unless you haven't been listening to me. . . certainly not all of it." "I didn't go to the ends of the earth to save Diana," he whispered against her cheek. It should have been romantic. It seemed a bit desperate, even to him. "You were never in a position to do so. And you were never in a position where your potential failure to save her would add to your already immeasurable supply of guilt. If you had been. . .I'm sure you would have done the same." "Scully--I told you. I told you in my hallway. I know you probably blocked that out of your mind as well but--I did tell you how I felt about you. How very much you mean to me." "You also ran off the minute I did exactly what you said I did best. And I'm not saying you lied. I'm saying you said what you thought I needed to hear. What you thought you needed to say. And you did what you thought would be best. To save 'us' when it looked like you would be left alone. But you don't have to be alone now. You can have someone who understands you better. Who you have. . .history with. Who you could have the entire package with. Work and home." "What?" He sat up and looked down at her, noticing the tear tracks on her face. He rolled her on her back and pulled her up to face him. "I don't want Diana--at work or home. Just because I give a former friend the benefit of the doubt does not mean I'm suddenly going to drop a partnership--a relationship--that has meant everything to me for all these years. God, Scully. . ." He pulled her to his chest and held her face against him. He felt the moisture seep through his tee shirt. Silent treatment be damned. He could get himself into a lot of trouble if he got overprotective of his pride. "I can't believe you'd think this way, or feel this way. After everything we've been through." He leaned back a bit and looked in her eyes. "And, I'm not condemning you for doing this. I can sort of see how it could happen but--well, I've had some weird ideas about you lately, too and--I think we're going to need to talk about all of this. Get it out in the open and not harbor everything." He saw her smile. "I've been thinking of seeing a psychologist and now you pick the time to go into full professional mode." "I couldn't treat you anyway. It would be a case of the blind leading the blind." She closed her eyes, still smiling. Her seated stance was looking a bit unsteady to him. She had a very rough day and was falling asleep sitting up. He gently pushed her back against the pillows and lay down beside her on his stomach, with his arm draped casually around her waist. His face was inches away from hers on the other pillow. She looked at him through half-closed eyes. "Couples therapy?" he whispered. "Well," she said sleepily, "first, I need to work out a few things on my own. Then, we would probably need to actually become a couple. . ." Her watched as her eyes widened in horror over the words she had let slip. He pushed himself up a bit and looked into her eyes. "I'm sure I can call in some favors when the time comes." Just the smallest bit of an emphasis on the word, "when." He knew she noticed. He could see her relax and see the tiniest spark in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her on her cheek, as close to the corner of her mouth as he could possibly get. That, he wanted to save for a more perfect moment. Cold-free, argument free, misunderstanding free and bug free. "Warming up?" She opened her eyes for a moment and nodded briefly. He felt her move her hand until she was lightly grasping the one he had around her waist. It still was when the strong winter sun shone through the drab curtains the next morning. 2001 "You really hated me?" Mulder asked. "I never said I hated you. I said I disliked you." "But not after that night." "No. Not after that night." "So. . .if I had made my move back then. . ." She laughed a little. He was unused to the sound of laughter. Especially coming from her. "Mulder, you wouldn't have 'made your move' back then. The time wasn't right." He got up and looked out of the window again. Something inside him hurt. On so many different levels. Their timing was wrong for everything. She stood behind him and pressed her face against his shoulder blade. "We don't have to be the royal "WE" right away, Mulder. I've had time to prepare for this. You haven't. You can take as much, or as little responsibility as you want." He turned slightly and looked at her. "I want the full package. I do. I feel so selfish. I am selfish. It's just we had so little time being 'just' us. I feel cheated. It feels like we're the butt of some great cosmic joke. Give them an ounce of happiness and then make sure they pay big time. And that's not even what this is. This is a gift. This baby. And I grateful. I just need to make a whiplash adjustment before Junior arrives. I need to quickly mourn over the loss of us, while inside. . .it seems like I could mourn that loss forever." She nodded. "You understand all that?" He asked. "Yeah. I do. Kind of like what I was doing in Boston that night. Standing right next to you. . .sitting right next to you. Working with you every day but feeling such a sense of loss. I think I might have wanted to start over again at that point, too. Probably go back to that moment in your hallway but this time--bring along a huge bottle of Raid." Mulder laughed and felt a knot inside release. "I guess, Mulder, the thing I learned back then. . .and maybe it's something I keep reminding myself--in order to keep myself sane--is we don't have complete control over our lives. Whenever we thought we did, well--it was just an illusion. You know, someone up there really loves us. But there must also be a renegade archangel or something who really has us on his shit list. It leads to--interesting complications. When all is said and done, though, we've still got each other. We haven't lost that. We've just gained new hope, new life and a new beginning." He made the attempt to put his arms around her rather sizable waist. "Scully, you're getting mushy on me in your old age." "It's the hormones." "You won't have that excuse soon, you know." "It's not an excuse," she took her hand and gave his behind a firm pinch. "Scully! You're about to be a mother!" "A mother of a child who will learn to take schedules naps. And now, we know better. Time does not stretch indefinitely before any of us. We take advantage of every opportunity." "We will?" he asked, with a decided gleam in his eye. "You won't be mourning 'us' for long, Mulder. That much, I can promise you right now." "A voluntary commitment?" "A very voluntary commitment." And he did. The End Author's Notes: (This story has not been beta-read, by the way. I kept my beta--the wonderful Christina--busy enough this season) I know I just posted a story last week but--well, this is my Requiem, I suppose. No, I don't plan on "retiring" from the fanfic world but, I'm feeling the pain, as I'm sure most of us are. Mostly for the great unknown. This is the week we find out whether or not to weep over the wonder of the final Duchovny-Anderson era episode or hurl tomatoes at our sets and burn surfboards in protest. I hope for the first. I fear, and suspect, the second. But, before we find out for sure, this is one of the ways I'd like to see things end. With a nod to the past and a look toward the future. Visit the Rain Room...fan fiction by Gina Rain http://www.geocities.com/ginarainfic To post, mail to xfc-ATXC@yahoogroups.com To subscribe, mail xfc-ATXC-subscribe@yahoogroups.com To unsubscribe, mail xfc-ATXC-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/