The usual - I don't own Scully, Mulder, or Melissa. There will be no exchange of currency for this story (dammit)
This was a request from Ender, who wondered what kinds of conversations Mulder and Scully would have had on all their long car rides chasing aliens and monsters.
Enjoy and as always, review please.
The ribbon of asphalt stretched as far her eyes could see, waves of one-hundred-ten degree heat making an ocean on the horizon. Staring out the window at the desert mesas, Scully's mind wandered absently. How many miles of road just like this had she been down - thousands? Hundreds of thousands? The daughter of a career Navy man, she'd moved from one side of the country to the other, coast to coast, more times than she could remember. She loved her father very much, admired his service and dedication to the Navy, but it was a lonely way to spend a childhood. She gave up making new friends far earlier in her life than she thought was normal. By the time she was ten, she'd decided Melissa would be the only friend she'd ever really have.
Suddenly, a deep and all to familiar sadness crept in. It had been a long time since she'd thought of Missy. They drifted when she left her career in medicine for the FBI, but she missed her sister. She missed the bond of blood and of tears. They'd seen the same roads, shared the same fears. The same memories. Many nights they'd held each other, their tears wetting the same pillow as the faced yet another uprooting. Though Ahab was gone, she still had her mother. And her brothers. But she missed her sister.
Of course, she hadn't been truly alone for quite a while. Seldom had a day gone by in the last seven years that she hadn't at least talked to Mulder. He practically lived with her for crying out loud, showing up at all hours of the night to expound on some ridiculous paranormal finding he'd discovered in an insomnia-driven research fest. His unpredictability made dating an impossibility - not that she was inclined to have go out. If she'd been interested in anyone since joining the FBI, it had been only in a passing moment that usually started with an internal inventory of reasons it was a bad idea. Her partner's near-constant presence in her life made quiet moments alone few and far between. Yes, working with Fox Mulder had proven to be as unsuitable for life-building as her childhood had been for friend-making.
She wasn't bitter, though. Quite the contrary, in fact. Mulder had become more important to her than she could have ever imagined. No matter what she had lost along the way, she knew without pause she would make the journey with him all over again. For everything taken away, she'd gained ten-fold in him. With Fox Mulder, there was never a dull moment - he had a way of making sure of that.
"Who's turn is it, Scully?"
Sighing in feigned frustration, she rolled her eyes and oozed out an exaggerated groan.
"Ughhhh.. really, Mulder? Can't we just enjoy the silence? Take in the beautiful landscape? Ponder the meaning of our existence and why this case so desperately hinges on us being out in record heat?"
"Whatever, Scully! You love it and you know it. Now c'mon, it's your turn isn't it? Hit me, Dr. Scully!"
Scully laughed despite herself, his childish exuberance always breaking through her stoic resolve. He really was adorable, even if she hated to think of him like that. It went against her nature really to be so...so girlie. She was a doctor. A scientist. Not a school girl. Weren't there better, more sophisticated words? Probably not for him, she thought as she chuckled.
"Alright, fine. Is it alive?"
"Yes. One."
"Is it grey?"
"Yes. Two."
"Reticulan."
"Dammit!"
This time, they both burst out in laughter. The Game of Questions always started the same. And no matter how many times she did it, it never got old. Mulder thought it was hilarious that she played along and she learned long ago there were few things she craved more than the sound of his genuine laughter.
"Mulder, what's your happiest memory?"
Thinking of Missy, she dropped her eyes to her lap and found she had to swallow back the lump rising him her throat.
"My happiest memory? That's easy. Opening day at Fenway, 1968. I was six, and my dad took me to my first Red Sox game. They beat nine to two Cleveland in the first Patriots Day single-game in Red Sox history. Before that, since about 1903, they had always played a double-header on Patriots Day but that year there was only one game. That's why we got to go. It was a good game and a great day. One of the only times I remember my father ever smiling at me like he was happy to be my father."
A pregnant silence filled the car momentarily. The elder Mulder had been no man to admire. His very mention riled anger in her as her sister's death could be traced directly back to Bill Mulder's consortium of conspirators. But listening to Mulder's memory, she found herself looking at it from the perspective of a six year old boy that had no idea his father would be a monster.
She imagined him, wild shock of chestnut hair under an over-sized baseball cap. He probably had a ball glove in one hand and a box of Cracker Jack's popcorn and peanuts in the other. Maybe he was wearing tattered blue jeans and sneakers with the laces untied and frayed, and his tee-shirt was stained with the adventures of childhood. Did they walk hand in hand through the turn-style, little Fox proudly handing the ticket-taker his pass to the biggest adventure yet? Did Bill buy his son a hot dog, loaded with mustard and relish, and a Coca-Cola? Did he put Mulder up on his shoulders, carrying up to the top of the bleachers out in right field?
"Well, Scully?"
Scully turned abruptly and looked at Mulder.
"What?"
"I asked you why you were so quiet. You haven't said a word for almost three minutes."
"Oh! I'm sorry, Mulder. I was just..."
Not wanting to turn the mood somber by explaining her silent reverie, she turned on the sarcasm and quickly changed the subject.
"I was trying to picture you as a six-year-old. I was fairly certain you were born 35 years old with a flashlight and pistol wearing a tee-shirt with 'I want to believe' on the front."
It was weak but it was all she had. And he seemed to forget her drifting quickly.
"So, now it's my turn. Let's see...what can I ask you that I don't already know? Oh! I got a good one - most embarrassing moment? Go!"
"Oh Mulder! Really?"
"Tit for tat, Scully. You know the rules. One question. One answer. No passes. Now spill it."
"Alright, fine."
Silent for a heartbeat, the memory was an easy one to recall.
"We lived in San Diego for a while when I was seven. Ahab was stationed there for about six months before being deployed to Vietnam - his ship was part of the Linebacker attacks that helped block the Communist Eastern Offensive. Anyway, he had a young Lieutenant under his command, a Texan named Garland Westfall. He was twenty-three years old and had just graduated from Texas A&M University where he received his commission. And the first time I saw him, I fell in love for the first time in my life. He had the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen and dark brown hair thicker than sheep's wool. He was so polite, always calling me 'mam' in his country-boy drawl, even though I was a kid. I thought he was the most handsome man in a uniform in the entire United States Navy. So one day, I'm standing on the dock beside my father - my mother had taken me with her to deliver military papers he left at home. I'm standing on the dock and my father and Lieutenant Westfall and my mother are talking and I decided to hold onto my father's leg. Without looking, I wrapped myself around him and kissed his thigh several times, just trying to tell him I loved him."
"Oh no! Don't tell me - you weren't hugging your father, were you?!"
"I had attached myself to Lieutenant Westfall's leg instead. And to make matters worse, I had forgotten all about the pink lip gloss I put on in the car. So then I'm standing there, putting little pink lip prints all over the military-issued uniform of a man I was madly in love with when my father starts to laugh - I knew instantly I had made a terrible mistake. I was mortified. I let go immediately, without looking up, and ran for the car as fast as I could. I can still hear Lieutenant Westfall calling behind me that it was ok and for me not to cry. I didn't look back."
Mulder burst out laughing.
"Well that's certainly the best story of this trip!"
"And the last one! How much farther do we have to go. Mulder? I have to go to the bathroom and you need something else to do besides laugh at me!"
He turned to her, tipped the brim of an imaginary hat and answered in his worst exaggerated Southern accent.
"Just a little fuh-ther up the road a piece...MAM!"
The End