IsisMoon9
A/N - After an extremely long break from writing I caught the bug again after finding some fantastic XF fanfic and the muse wouldn't leave me alone (or let me sleep!) until I tried my hand at it again. Reviews (and ideas for improvement) are always very welcome and make the XF fairies in my desk, who stop me working and make me read FF when I should be writing something more academic, very happy.
This is set, for those of you who don't recognise the first part, at the end of Little Green Men. I hope you enjoy my little random drabble-come-missing scene, there may be more chapters if the muse allows. Thanks for reading.
Bigfeet
"I may not have the X-files, Scully, but I still have my work" he paused and glanced towards and then away from her, removing the reel from the players spoke, feeling as though his heart had been pierced like the metal tine threading through the tape reel, forever denying him the proof he heard and saw, or thought he did. Everything was a fantasy, an illusion, crafted by the cruellest of magicians preventing him from fulfilling his inbuilt destiny "and I've still got you" This had caught her attention and he saw the wheels of thought turning behind her intelligent eyes as she processed the hidden meaning within his comment. "And I've still got myself."
One simple sentence could be so loaded with possibilities and meanings, this was the disadvantage of being a profiler, he could get into a criminals mind like very few in the world but could not speak the deepest of truths directly. His demeanour revealed the hidden messages, the hurt and disappointment at yet again missing undeniable evidence of his true crusade on this plane of existence; the unspoken gratitude for her care and devotion to his work, and dare he consider, him. The determination emanated from him in waves, like radar it was this inner alarm which once more alerted him to her presence within the room. Her eyes shone with the same determination he held, a promise of loyalty and unspoken commitment to aid in the conclusion of a life's work in progress. He did not have to thank her aloud for her commitment to him, his work or saving him from destroying himself in the search for proof as she had done once again in Puerto Rico, he knew a simple acknowledgement of her presence and a meaningful glance was all that was needed for her to understand how much she had come to mean to him. Thinking back, he could think of only a brief period, at the very beginning of their journey, where their communication was purely spoken.
As a spy he imagined her superiors were cursing their decision, instead of providing him with a traitor who would do their bidding they had given him the most precious gift of all, a true friend who would follow, challenge and ultimately protect him at the risk of her career. His protector disguised as his endangerer, a sheep in wolfs clothing to flip the old adage. He could ask no more from her, and felt he should not have accepted this much, but the need for protection, partnership and companionship was too strong. Their bond becoming even stronger with each passing event.
She placed a gentle hand over his and caught his gaze. He glanced up at her, jolted from his inner monologue by the contact; the sentiment behind her gesture was mutual. Unspoken promises of future explorations and adventures to come, mutual trust and respect, and now, for the first time, he consciously recognised a softness, an affection in her eyes beckoning him to continue in the knowledge she would be at his side should disaster strike or the proof they so ardently pursued become a physical reality. As if by telepathic sense her eyes called for him not to give up hope, or faith in finding the truth.
She blushed slightly as if her silent communication had said too much of her feeling for her, she smiled and briefly tightened her grip before releasing both his gaze and hand from her. As she rose and turned toward the door he felt a shiver, as if the physical touch was all that was keeping him warm and alive within, there was heaviness between them not of awkwardness but of indecision. How much, if said, was too much. The tension dissipated with a tender smile, returned in earnest.
He watched as the door clicked closed quietly behind her and he smiled, awash with renewed hope that the truth was out there, and no matter the odds she would be the one to find it with him.
She worried about him; she knew he knew that but seeing his childlike disappointment at the tape, like opening a present and finding an empty box on Christmas morning, affected her. She was aware she was skirting close to the line between professionalism and the creation of something more personal but, for the first time in her life, she didn't care. She, Dana Scully, perfectionist, rationalist, general all-round by-the-book kind of gal was playing with the bureau handbook and a wastepaper bin of pure fire. Rather than being afraid, or anxious, she found herself excited. She did not share his passion for the supernatural but rather enjoyed the challenge he provided her with, the strength of conviction it took in order to present her opinion energised and excited her.
She smiled at the unspoken bond formed in the first year of their partnership, well friendship if she was being honest, the respect he gave her was unrivalled by other male members of the bureau. She'd had to prove herself to him, just not in the same way the rest of the testosterone-driven monkeys insisted that she did. Despite the fact they rarely agreed they both appreciated the journey taken to the truth and the contribution the other made to piecing together the most complex of puzzles. She didn't believe in blind faith, that fate indiscriminately propelled an inevitable future into being but there was something she couldn't quite place, something that pulled her towards him. The unseen bond brought them back together time after time and she knew, in her soul, if she allowed herself such an unnaturally frivolous concept, that they were inextricably bound together.
She realised she had been sat in her car, letting the rain play soft hypnotic drumbeats on the rental cars roof, for what seemed like a few minutes but was in actuality half an hour. She gathered herself and her thoughts, dashed to the front door and strolled leisurely to her apartment. Sighing at the relief that tomorrow was Saturday she dropped her keys with a bang onto the side table and shed her coat in a moment of distraction onto the back of the couch, as a blinking light caught her eye. She smiled and pressed play, "Hi Scully, it's me…Mulder, I guess you'd figured that out from the voice though" she chuckled lightly at his subconscious musings being vocalised seemingly without his permission as the reason he called her fled from his mind. The pause was interrupted suddenly as if he had reached an epiphany, "I just wanted to say thanks, for saving my ass….again and all that. I found a case file, hidden in my old office that I just know you're gonna want to see. Call me." The loud click betrayed the calm intonation in his voice; she was pleased the latest disappointment had not stalled his enthusiasm.
Picking up the phone she resigned herself to a chosen, perhaps less contrived fate happily, the phone rang and a familiar dulcet tone answered and began speaking immediately in rushed wonder at his latest find. There was a pause on the other end, "Scully, you there?" "Yes, just listening…absorbing" "Good, 'cause for a minute there I swear I could practically hear you rolling your eyes at me" he chuckled. She shook her head affectionately "But really Mulder….Bigfoot? Murdering unsuspecting campers? I would have thought that avoiding budding photographers would occupy enough of his time!" There was a low chuckle on the opposite end of the line, "Mulder, could you not even consider that a large, hairy, growling beast living in the woods that, coincidentally, sounds just like a bear, could actually…you know….be a bear?!" the sarcasm dripped but in a genial, teasing manner she reserved only for him and Melissa.
This was going to be some weekend.