Disclaimer: They are legally in the hands of Ten Thirteen. And they're doing a pretty good job with them. I wish I could thank all of them for the wonderful 6 episodes we just got. And let them know just how greedily we are waiting for more. As if they don't know.
Rating: This is like a PG. Look into my Crystal Ball and…ooh, I see two FBI agents and ahem! Hoo boy! They are not doing very PG things. Madame Sarah is never wrong. Smut is coming.
Spoilers: Post-Post Modern Prometheus. Cancer arc references.
Author's Notes: Did the final scene of Post Modern Prometheus really happen? Was it just a happy ending written by Izzy Berkowitz? If you think so, IDGAF. Sorry! Not sorry! Haha. I'm going to have as much fun with this story as my brain will let me. Yeah, I also said I was going to take a little break. I read for like, a day, before I got another idea. So I'm back for now. Enjoy!
*Thanks to Stephanie for helping me along to think of the name of Sonny, and also a later character.*
Feedback? GET IN MY BELLY!
"I want to speak to the writer," I had said as Izzy Berkowitz walked into the kitchen of that farm house.
Izzy looked at me with his blank stare for a moment before asking, "What did I do now?"
"Nothing, I just…" I sigh and look at Scully. As I expected she would be, she was looking at me with one eyebrow perched up, arms crossed. "I just don't like this ending."
"Oh…" Izzy stands there in the doorway so long, both Scully and I turn back to him, eyebrows raised. "You know, I heard on the radio that Cher is coming to Indianapolis in a few months. Doesn't he like her a lot?"
xxxxx
Scully had taken a curious liking to the Great Mutato over the next few days before we left Indiana. Normally, she would balk at the misguided crimes that had been committed by him. She had, not for the first time, surprised me with her compassion. He was very bright, and very curious about what we did for a living, so he and Scully had a lot to talk about before we left town a couple of days after the case wrapped.
She had gathered that he liked to be called Sonny. Not only because of Sonny Bono, but because his 'father' had called him Son, or Sonny after never giving him a proper name.
The women were not pressing charges, and the only charges brought up would be against Doctor Pollidori.
xxxxx
A few months later, I was opening mail in the office. "Hey, Scully, we got a letter from Sonny."
"We did?" She said with an almost proud smile, coming to perch on the edge of my desk. She puts a finger on the letter, turning it so she can see it for a moment. "He's got nice handwriting." His father had taught him to read, but not write, so he had been practicing.
"Very nice. 'Dear Mr. Mulder and Miss Scully,'" I glance at her as I read aloud and catch her smiling before she can check it. "'I would have called but I thought this would be a great opportunity to practice my handwriting. Guess what! Cher called me on the phone yesterday! She will be in Indianapolis in two weeks. She said that she will host a private concert for me and whomever I wish to invite. I have invited many people from around here. I am writing to ask each of you to please, come. Ms. Berkowitz and Mrs. Pollidori both want you to meet our babies.'" He went on to give the details for the concert and to ask us once more to please come to his Cher concert. I fold the letter closed and look up at Scully.
"Well, that was nice of him," she says, stoically, looking down at her nails.
"You want to go, don't you?" My eyes linger on her exposed, smooth, nylon-covered knee where her skirt has ridden up for just a moment, after tapping her there with the folded letter from my chair.
"Well, do you have any leads?"
I pick up a tabloid from the mail pile, perusing it quickly. "Ooh, look, Scully. Here's a story of a man who claims to turn into a polar bear, every full moon. In Alaska!" I test her.
"Mulder…" She doesn't want to, but she almost believes me. I smirk at her and close the tabloid.
"Ah, well, I gotta use some vacation time anyway." She smiles down at me, a tight lipped, but nonetheless pretty smile. The Scully equivalent of a toothy grin and a big hug. She had just had an appointment with her doctor the day before, and we were both still in high spirits after learning her cancer was still in remission. I hand her the folded letter and the envelope it had come in. "Here's the details. Book us a flight."
xxxxx
Days later, Scully and I are back in the kitchen of that old farm house. Sonny had decided to stay on the farm. Many people had come together to build Sonny a new barn for his animals, and he was continuing to run the farm with their help.
We are all standing up from the kitchen table after a short visit with the mothers after Scully had given the babies each equal attention. I had watched her look at the babies, not with disgust but with equal scientific curiosity and that wonder most any woman gets at a new baby. It was the first time that I had seen Scully smiling at anything without looking up at me to gauge my reaction or check her emotions. I allowed myself a few minutes while she was busy with them to beat myself up for not telling her yet of her ova that I had found during her illness.
We are at the door now, saying goodbye to Sonny. He timidly takes one of Scully's hands before she places one hand over the top of his. I am staring at their hands. I look at her smooth white skin and polished nails over his rough, unsightly hand. I have never realized just how small and feminine her hands were before. Then again, I was noticing a lot of things I hadn't noticed about her lately.
"Miss Scully, I would greatly appreciate it if I could ride with you two to the concert tomorrow since you are only in town for such a short period of time."
Scully looks at me expectantly. When she catches me looking at their hands, she has to answer for both of us as it takes me a second to replay what I just heard in my head. "That should not be a problem. We will pick you up tomorrow. Bye." She says after she takes her hands from Sonny's and waves goodbye to the two new mothers.
A few hours later we are sitting at a booth in the diner for dinner. Scully has been somewhat distant since we left Sonny's farm. Not unfriendly, she answers me when I talk to her. But I sense she is more on her mind than usual. "Is something the matter, Scully?"
"Huh? Oh, uh…" She looks up at me from her salad that she had been pushing around with her fork more than eating. She looks surprised, but then again not, that I noticed anything was wrong to begin with. She sighs, "Mulder, seeing those babies today…" She clears her throat and pushes her plate away after laying her fork down, obviously done.
'She knows,' I think…I sigh and put down the half eaten last half of my sandwich, done myself. "Yeah…?" I can't even look at her.
"I learned a while back that I can't have children because…because of what they did to me."
"Oh," I say, pathetically playing with the straw in my plastic diner glass before forcing myself to look at her. "I'm sorry."
Her eyes show the smallest hint of tears. She blinks and shakes her head, taking a sip of her water, avoiding my eyes once more. "I don't want to talk about that, not here. We're on 'vacation.'" She forces a smile and a quick glance to me. I had just been wondering if I should tell her what I'd found during her illness, but I selfishly postpone that conversation for the thousandth time. 'She doesn't want to talk about it now,' I tell myself. But I do place my right hand over her left hand that she's got casually rested up on the edge of the table. I once again notice how small her hand is as I move my thumb between her thumb and finger, closing the back of her hand into mine. She looks at our joined hands for a long few moments, then squeezes briefly before pulling away. She clears her throat once more and gets up, placing her napkin on the table. "Let's go, Mulder. Big day tomorrow."
When we make it back to the hotel, she passes my door, walking towards hers. She wishes me good night and is gone before I can think of anything to say. I sigh, get into my room and prepare for bed. I strip down to my boxers and take my toiletry bag to the bathroom. I begin placing all the contents on the sink, looking for my toothpaste. "Shit…" I say, after I've removed everything. I must have forgotten it. I look at the connecting doors between our rooms, trying to decide if I can wait until morning to borrow hers. I probably could, but I don't want to. Not for the taste of onions in my mouth, but for the chance to check on her. I find a T-shirt and put it on before opening the door on my side and knocking on hers.
She opens it. "What'd you forget, Mulder?" she asks as she finishes buttoning the bottom two buttons on her pajama shirt.
My eyes glance down at her hands for just a moment before giving her my best helpless smile. "Toothpaste."
She disappears toward her bathroom for a moment. When she comes back, she is squeezing toothpaste onto her own toothbrush before she hands me her toothpaste. "You'd forget your head if it weren't attached, Mulder."
I smirk and take the toothpaste from her. "Thanks," I say, but as she's closing the door, I say her name and reach out, barely brushing her chin with my finger quickly so she'll look at me. I search her eyes with my own, with experience in the task, looking for any sign that she is not fine. She does in fact look fine, just a little weary. "I'm sorry, Scully."
I see her internally debate whether she should pretend I was talking about the toothpaste before she licks her lips, letting her shoulders slump just slightly before lowering her head, her arms hanging at her sides. I move to her, taking her loosely into my arms. I look over her shoulder for a moment into her room, before looking down and cupping the back of her head as she turns her face to rest her cheek on my chest.
Her arms wrap around my ribs, not coming to rest on my back. Toothbrush in one hand, not willing or not needing to place her other hand on me. I feed off of her closeness for as long as I can, not knowing when she will pull away from me. The last time I had been graced with it was her trying to keep me warm in the Florida woods. I hope she doesn't sense my smirk as I recall her singing to me.
I stroke my thumb over her soft hair when she doesn't immediately pull away. She takes a deep breath against my chest, her free hand finally resting on my back. Ever since she had been diagnosed with cancer, I began to appreciate every bit of contact with her. Every reminder that she was still her with me, physically. I remember kissing her cheek in the hospital, still to this day unsure where that came from, and why she was so accepting of it. But it had been nice nonetheless. I close my eyes and hold her just a little tighter when my mind recalls when she told me, "They gave me this disease to make you believe."
When I am alone, I think of her. About everything she's gone through on account of me. I dwell in the guilt and the worry that it could return. It seems that I would dwell and worry more when she is around, but sometimes, most of the time I am able to forget. Lately, I am able to forget a lot of things when I am near her. Not completely, but I find I am able to push away some of those all-consuming thoughts for awhile. Since her remission, somehow we talked just a little more. Not just about whatever case we may be working on. On long car rides, we had begun having conversations I considered fun and intellectual, like mental games of ping pong. Sometimes we even talked about things like movies, childhood stories (mostly her), or food (mostly me).
I even found I began to think of her outside of work, something we had talked about. Or I would see something on TV that I wanted to talk to her about. I would start to call her, and then change my mind before dialing the last number. I didn't want to bother her, and would decide it would be better to talk about in person anyway.
She sighs here in my arms, pulling me back out of my thoughts just as she pulls away from me. Just as she had started to warm my chest. "Good night, Mulder." She says and nods, looking at my eyes only briefly before closing the door. I sigh, brush my teeth and go to bed.
xxxxx
The next day I wake before she does. I grab some breakfast, and return to my room. I pick up her toothpaste and knock on her side of the connecting door. She answers before I have to knock again, rubbing her eyes. I hold out the bag with her breakfast in it and her toothpaste.
She yawns, nods her thanks before taking my offerings, and closes her door to almost a crack to get ready. I sit at the table and read the paper, listening to the sounds of her getting ready. Showering, drying her hair, getting dressed. I hear her makeup items click open and closed as she applies it. I am unable to stop my mind from picturing some of the steps, staring at her door a few times as I do. I quickly look down at the paper when I see the door moving as she opens it. Not that I could have seen anything through her door, but I still feel guilty.
She looks me over. "Why did we dress like we're going to work?" She smirks at me in my suit and tie, stepping into my room enough to show me she is wearing one of her work skirt suits.
"I suppose we don't give ourselves much opportunity for fun, do we?" I smirk back at her, she does look pretty professional for a concert.
"We? Mulder? I can hardly make fun plans in advance, and usually have to cancel." I know the difference between picking-a-fight Scully and smart-ass Scully. This happens to be the latter. She's letting me know she is okay after yesterday, and maybe even thanking me a little in a way that I will appreciate.
"if you ever have a date, Scully, just let me know." I squint at her, watching closely for her reaction, testing one of the boundaries of our newfound ease of casual conversation.
She squints back, with her hand up on the door jamb of the connecting doors, trying to tell if I'm being mean-spirited or playfully facetious. She also decides it was the latter and smirks once more. "Let's go to a Cher concert, Mulder."
xxxxx
Sonny's enthusiasm at seeing Cher live is certainly infectious, and I am smiling so wide my face hurts. I honestly cannot remember the last time I've smiled for such a long amount of time. I catch Scully's eyes behind Sonny's back at one point and see her in the same state. Free from worry about everything: cancer, conspiracies, me. Then Cher pulls Sonny up on the stage to dance. I think for a moment, but not too long about asking Scully to dance. Then, rather than ask, I throw my arm out, offering her my hand. To my surprise and relief, she takes it. I pull her swiftly up off of her feet and right up against me, wanting to feel her closer than I held her last night even. I suppose I was swept up in the moment, as they say.
As we begin to move and my eyes meet hers, I am suddenly so thankful for her. As with every time I touch her now, everything else in the world fades away just a little. I am able to almost forget about that little conversation that we need to have, that I have something to tell her. But, also, in this moment, I want to believe we will make it through that just as we make it through everything else.
She was becoming the first true friend I'd had in a long time. No, with her smiling at me, her eyes bright and so open that I can see right inside her, I realize she's the best friend I've had in my life. She had worked her way in, despite myself. Despite every wall I'd put up to keep people at arm's length. Somehow she's broken through or climbed over every wall I have consciously or unconsciously erected since 1973. Since Samantha was taken, or abducted, or whatever scenario it is that I believe happened today.
As I look into Scully's eyes, I feel something like butterflies in my stomach, and am glad I decided to slow down and just live, if even for today. It felt so good to hold someone, to hold Scully close. Tomorrow, I know the nagging sense of purpose and drive to keep on doing what we're doing will return. But tonight, we dance, and watch Sonny and Cher on stage.
Posted on 2/23/16. HAPPY 52ND BIRTHDAY, SCULLAAYYYY!
To be continued...