Bits of Now and Then
by Christine Leigh

Summary: Post-Trust No 1.  Scully POV alternating with flashback
scenes to past episodes.
Rating: PG
Category: MSR
Spoilers: Irresistible, Die Hand die verletzt, Home.
Disclaimer: All characters are the products of Chris Carter.
They also belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox
Network. No copyright infringement intended. "The Pursuit of
Love" by Nancy Mitford  was first published in 1945.
Archiving: If you would like to archive anywhere, I'd  appreciate
a quick note first. 
Email: Feedback is always welcome, leighchristine@hotmail.com
     

2002
Scully's apartment
A Sunday morning in January

Scully is not going out today.  It had rained all night and it
doesn't look like it will cease anytime soon.  She hadn't had any
particular plans, but would probably have run some of the errands
she used to be able to do on her way home from work that had,
since the advent of William, been relegated to Saturday or Sunday. 
She is fortunate to have a grocery store in her neighborhood that
delivers, and she has already made an order that will arrive later this
afternoon.  The rest can wait.

In between tending and playing with her infant son, she hopes
to finish the book she had started two weeks ago.  A burning log
in the fireplace and some music on the CD player complete her
plan.  She needs to feel something besides cold, wet, and
depressed.  Tomorrow she will have to face her students and
colleagues, and her facade, so meticulously constructed over the
past months, and so harshly ripped apart two nights ago, must be
rebuilt.  She needs Mulder and at the same time needs to stop
thinking that she might never see him again.  These had been the
twin worries running through her mind as she'd e-mailed him the
night before last.  She had awakened in a cold sweat early the next
morning, the thought that she had actually typed the words 'forever
yours,' filling her with fear.  All she could think of was that it is
very bad luck to be so blatant about what she wants.  It was one
hell of a point in her life for the Irish superstition that she'd managed
to avoid so far to kick in.

Her three-hour log is giving off good flames by the time the coffee
finishes dripping, and she pours a cup, stirring in some French
vanilla-flavored creamer.  This is an indulgence she had never
allowed herself in the past but that has now become a habit. 
She seems to need flavor wherever she can get it these days. 
William shouldn't be up for another hour, so she locates her book
and settles on the couch.  It has been several years since she'd
reread an old favorite, and the lovely hardback copy of "The
Pursuit of Love," holds a special significance.  It had been a gift
from Mulder.  He'd always teased her about her romantic taste in
reading, and whenever the opportunity presented itself, he would
peruse her bookshelves, taking a book down and reading a page or
two. Then, looking bemused, he would replace the book back on
the shelf -- always exactly where it had been.  He'd repeat this
routine usually two or three times.  Scully had thought it was just to
gather more fodder for his teasing, so when he'd presented her with
this book on her birthday two years ago, she'd been truly surprised. 
Now, for the millionth time, she reads the inscription.

     'Your paperback copy won't withstand one more
     reading.  For the record, those pages with the 
     scotch tape were always that way.  Here's a sturdier 
     copy.  You amaze me.  Happy Birthday, Scully.  

     Yours, Mulder.'

She rubs her fingers gently over his handwriting.  Then she finds her
chapter and settles in for a good, long read.

*****

Afternoon

"Do you want to listen to some music?"  William has no opinion. 
He and Scully have been playing for the last half hour, which
consists of him grabbing her finger and then her holding him while
walking around the living room, all the while carrying on a
one-sided conversation.

"Look at the rain William.  Do you see all that water coming
down from the sky?  I've seen a lot of rain in my life, but today it
seems like it isn't going to stop, ever.  I don't think we'll be taking
our walk." 

Scully moves to the CD player and trades Tchaikovsky for a
disc of Chopin piano sonatas.  She looks at the so-called
entertainment center of her living room.  Along with the television,
the VCR and the CD player is a box full of LPs and 45s that
Mulder had brought from his apartment.  Scully finds it hard not to
smile at this dusty old collection.  She almost wishes she had a
turntable.  To think that she has a copy of "The Night Chicago
Died," but no way to listen to it in all its scratchy glory.

"Your father can be so goofy sometimes William.  He could
make me feel good under some very strange circumstances.  Which
was most of our time together.  Once, instead of water coming
down from the sky we had toads bouncing off our umbrellas. 
That's right.  They just rained down on us.  Your father said
they'd forgotten their parachutes.  I didn't let him know it then, but
that made me laugh.  Later that night when I was alone in my room
I laughed out loud just remembering what he'd said." 

William gurgles at this.  Scully sighs.  She wishes she'd
laughed when Mulder had made his toad joke, instead of waiting
until she was alone.  She'd been so wary of letting him see her
enjoy his humor, of letting him into her heart just a little, even as a
friend.  She vows to herself that when they are together again,
she will never hold back her laughter.  She puts William back into
his bassinet and goes to get her journal from the bedroom.  She has
a few thoughts she wants to get down while they are fresh. 
She returns and then sits down at the kitchen table and starts
writing:     
 
     'Mulder, today has been very hard.  It's been two 
     days since I e-mailed you, and I'm trying to pull 
     myself together enough so that I can function tomorrow 
     during class.  William and I have spent our day so far, 
     inside, as it is raining steadily.  We have these wonderful 
     conversations where I do all the talking.  He's very 
     patient with me.  This afternoon I told him about the time 
     the toads rained down on us and what you said about them 
     forgetting their parachutes.  I never told you this, but 
     that made me laugh so hard.  Not there in the forest after 
     it happened, obviously, but later in my room when I was alone.   
     I regret not letting you see how much your sense of humor 
     entertained me that day, and on so many others.  I was so 
     afraid of letting you into my heart.  You were the most 
     intense person I'd ever met, but also one of the funniest.  
     Those attributes combined with your devastating sexiness, 
     and sweetness of  heart proved to be too much for me at the 
     time.  It both scared and delighted me to know that 
     someone like you was in my life; was in fact the major 
     person in my life.  But I wasn't ready to acknowledge it 
     openly.  Thank you for being so patient.  Perhaps when he 
     is a little older, you can tell William the toad story.  
     What a lucky boy he is to have you for his father.'

She closes the journal and goes over to the window in the
living room.  The rain has lessened some.  William is asleep. 
She prays that Mulder is warm and dry wherever he is.  She closes
her eyes for a moment and imagines a day in the future. It is a sunny
day.  Perhaps they will be having a picnic.  There is a very pretty
park two blocks away from her building where she takes William
for a walk most weekends, weather permitting.  Last Saturday
there had been a couple there with a little girl, who appeared to be
about three.  They were all bundled up and sitting at a picnic table
enjoying their lunch.  Scully wants so to do that one day with
Mulder and William.  Her reverie is interrupted by the ringing of the
doorbell.  She goes to look through the peephole and sees Mike
with her groceries.  It is good to have a regular delivery person,
which means one less I.D. to check.  She opens the door.

"Mike, hi.  Thanks so much for coming out in this weather. 
You can set it on the floor next to the table."  He entered and set
the box of goods down.  Usually it is an oblong box; this one is a
tall, deep box.  She'd have fun digging the stuff out.

"It's not too bad now, and I only had three other orders
besides yours today."  He hands Scully the bill.

"Glad to hear that.  I haven't been out at all today, so I really
do appreciate the service."  She hands him his payment plus
a generous tip.

"Thanks, Dana.  You and the little one stay dry.  Bye." 

Scully starts to unload the box.  It is mostly stuff that she needs to
get through the work week -- yogurt, fruit, bagels, more of her
French vanilla creamer, plus dry goods.  Mike had packed the box
rather snugly.  She pulls out a roll of paper towels, and sees an
umbrella jammed into the box.  Oh dear, she thinks, he must have
stuck his umbrella in the box and forgotten it when the rain started
to let up.  She takes it out.  Then she sits down, breathing deeply
for a minute or two.  She looks at it again.  She'd know this
umbrella anywhere; she has stood under it, next to its owner, more
times than she can recount.  

This is Mulder's umbrella.              
    
*****

1994  
Minneapolis

Scully awakens, disoriented and sore.  It takes seconds for her
to remember.  Pfaster.  Donnie Pfaster had tried to strangle her,
but Mulder and Agent Bocks had arrived just in time.  God, it had
been like a bad TV drama.  She rubs her wrists.  Mulder had
checked on her repeatedly during the night; she knew that.  He'd
stayed until she'd fallen asleep, and then had returned to his room. 
But she heard the connecting door open at least three times during
the night.  She gets up and heads for the shower.  She could have
used an hour under the water, but they have to be to the airport by
9:00, so she makes quick work of it and is toweled off with her
makeup on and hair dried in half an hour.  When Mulder knocks on
the door she is ready.

"Come in."  He enters and smiles at seeing her dressed and
ready to go, and looking somewhat better than she had last night.

"Morning, Scully.  How're you doing?"

"Better.  Mulder, thank you for staying here until I was asleep."

"You're welcome.  Did you sleep all right?" 

"Yes."  And the thing is, that she had.  She'd felt safe knowing
he was there.  She'd never questioned his ability to cover her in
the field, but last night had been different.  Last night he'd offered
her comfort, and she'd accepted it.  She can still feel his arms
around her. The memory of their strength had warmed her through
the night and now into the day.

"It's raining pretty hard.  We should probably get going now
to allow for the traffic."

"I'm ready."  She just needs her umbrella.  She looks around.
 Where is it?

"Mulder, was my umbrella recovered from the rental car?"  

"Your suitcase and briefcase.  That was it.  We can share mine. 
It's big enough."

She smiles at him.  "Thanks."

They trudge to the car, suitcases and briefcases in hand,
and manage to stay relatively dry.  It is a quiet ride to the
airport, but the silence is a peaceful one.  Then Scully thinks
of something.

"Mulder, I'm sorry about the football game.  That would have
been fun."

"There'll be another event sometime."

She looks out the window.  She hopes this is true.
     
*****

2002
Scully's apartment
Later in the afternoon

Scully has been sitting and holding the handle of the umbrella
for almost half an hour.  It is a solid wood handle, well
worn through many years of use.  She pictures Mulder's beautiful,
long fingers wrapped around it.  She looks at it as though it were
the eighth wonder of the world.  How on earth had he managed to
do this?  She stands up finally, and sets it on the table.  As she
resumes unpacking, she notices a small slip of paper in the bottom
of the box.  It looks like a store receipt that had been left behind. 
She turns the box upside down and the paper flutters to the floor.
There is handwriting on the back of it.  Feeling strangely calm, she
picks it up and reads what it says: 

     'Please keep dry and warm.  I love you both.  M.'

She stares at it. And then she raises it to her lips and kisses
it, gently, so as not to leave too much of an imprint.  She then goes
to the living room and places it in her book to mark the  page
where she'd stopped reading earlier.  For the first time in two days
she feels as though she can go forward, if only by  inches.
She's carried him in her heart for so many years.  He hadn't always
been there physically by her side, and they'd survived.  Now isn't all
that different. She will try to hang onto that, and to the way she
is feeling right now.  

*****

1996
Outside Home, Pennsylvania

"So, tell me Scully, how does a kid come to consider
watching 'Babe' fifteen times a day as fun?  I mean, once or twice I
can understand, but doesn't he get bored after that?"  They have
been driving for just over an hour and have been quiet except for a
few perfunctory exchanges about the horrific case they'd just
wrapped.  Mulder has decided it is time to try and bring a little
normality, such as it is for them, back to the scene.

"Mulder, I was bored after one viewing, and even with a movie
I loved as a kid, I never could have watched it on an endless
loop, but it's different today.  They don't just watch a movie
for entertainment, except possibly the first time, and then only if
they get to see it in an actual movie theatre -- they watch it to
memorize every line, so they can recite them back and forth with
their friends.  It's the thing to do."

"I think I'm glad I was a kid before video came along."

"But you're pretty pleased with it as an adult, I've gathered."

"Yeah, but twice is my limit per viewing, per sitting."

"And you'll be sure to impart that philosophy to your children."

"Excuse me, did I miss something?"  They exchange smiles and are
quiet again for a few minutes.  Then Scully speaks.  

"Mulder, I can see you as a parent, and I think you'd make a
terrific father should that ever happen for you."

He doesn't take his eyes off the road.  It has been a
monotonous drive so far, down a long road with nothing much to
offer in the way of a view.  His mind wanders back again to the all
day pick-up games, only this time he sees a little boy with red hair.
Funny, he thinks, how your mind can make leaps like that.  It is an
improbable vision, he knows, and one that will disappear soon
enough, but for the moment it makes the road before him tolerable. 
He turns his head a degree to look at Scully.  

"Thanks."


- end -