UPDATE as of September 26, 2013: I began writing this story when I was 15. I'm just going to leave that there. Well, actually I quite like some of the work I did in my teens, but I honestly giggle at this. I'm currently trying to go through and edit grammar mistakes and it's rather difficult to read without placing my face in my hands and uttering "oh god". You may enjoy this; you may not. Everything from here on out (besides some freshly done spell check) is my 15-year-old self. I'm rather amusing, let me tell you.
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Title: So Much for My Happy Ending
Rating: PG (PG-13 to be safe, it all depends on your flavor, really. To me, horrors are always R and Comedies are always PG-13. ((Shrugs)) if you can make sense of that, okay, but this is not comedy. It has angst. And angst for me is always PG. G is everything else except sex, which is a gimme X rating. Whatever. Just know that some content may…okay, IS unsuitable for young children. I'm done now.)
Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? If I'm dragged off to court , THEN I'll say my name isn't Chris Carter and I'm getting no profit for scribbles on a piece of paper that happen to have Mulder and Scully's name on it, okay? Btw, CC reads this stuff right? So he should be honored that people have nothing better to do than write stories based on his awesome TV show, right?
Feedback: I would LOVE some.
Summery: What if Ethan never just "went away?" that he really existed? What if Scully and him had a relationship? What if Scully wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man: Marry gasp! Prince Charming? What if she was simply having the time of her life?...then was assigned to the X files. Things will start to get complicated, and everything she thought she would have forever, will crumble to nothingness before her very eyes. So much for Paradise, so much for a life with love, so much for her happy ending….
Author's Note: At the end.
Chapter 1: Ice cream, Phones, and Men
Washington D.C.
Scully's Apartment
8:31 P.M. February 14, 1991
Dana Scully padded across her living room in sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt, and stretched out socks, tub of cookies and cream in hand. She had just come out a long, stress-relieving bubble bath, and she decided to throw on some comfortable clothes and see what was on the tube.
She left it on what seemed to be a world war two documentary and curled her feet under her and put yet another spoonful of heavenly goodness into her mouth.
The phone rang.
She sighed and put her ice cream down and went to the kitchen and picked it after the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Dana, I was going to leave a message. What are you doing at home?" It was Sandra, Scully's best friend. There was noise in the background; she was probably at a club.
"Having some alone time. It's Friday and I had a hard week at work."
"Dana, it's Valentine's Day and you're home alone. When are you going to get out there and meet people, get yourself a man?"
"Sandra, that's the last thing I need and you know it."
"Are you talking about Michael? That was over a year ago and you dumped his sorry ass after two weeks. Not every man in the world is an asshole; you just have to look a little harder for the good ones. You're not trying hard enough. That's the problem."
Scully sighed. Why were all her friends so utterly completely different from her? They were all either married or 'go get 'em' one night standers. Sandra was the latter.
"I don't think it works like that. If there's someone out there for me, he'll find me, and I'm very willing to wait a long, long time."
"And that's why you'll always fail."
Fail at what? Not getting in bed with a different guy every weekend?
"Dana, why don't you come out to the club with me? I might be fun."
"I'll pass."
"Well, if not the club, somewhere. Just get out of the house, take a night on the town. Grab something to eat, meet people, something! Stop being the cave dweller."
Scully said nothing.
"I see you're considering. I got to go; Todd's back from the bathroom. I'll call you tomorrow to see how it went."
The line went dead.
Scully hung the phone up and stood there. Would it be the end of the world if she went out tonight? What was the worse that could happen? And she was hungry any way.
"What the hell," she said aloud removing the pony tail from her still damp hair.
She turned off the TV and threw the ice cream back in the freezer.
Stripping down to her under garments, she went to her closet and put on a pair of old skinny jeans and a crimson sweater with a slightly revealing v-neck. She replaced her socks and put on dark brown suede snow boots that went up to just below her knees and had a four inch platform heel.
She applied her make up quickly and easily, but her hair was another story. It was almost dry and was frizzy and kinky. She put gel in it and blow dried it. Slick and wavy now. She heated up her curling iron and went all-out curls. Oddly different, but not bad. After a spray or two of hairspray and a sprits of her favorite perfume, she grabbed her wallet and coat and was out the door.
She hailed down a cab.
"Where to?" asked the rather distinguished driver. She guessed he was a respectable husband and father, or at least a loyal man to his girl. He definitely had something to go home to, and it wasn't a cocaine shop. She made a mental reminder to pay this guy at least double of what he asked.
"Um, I'm not sure. Do you know anywhere that wouldn't be crowded?"
He eyed her curiously. "You're not meeting someone?"
"Nothing that's pre-planned."
He laughed. It was a deep, joyful laugh, one that you would only expect to come from Santa Claus.
"Well, I know of a small diner that stays open late. I'm pretty sure that it won't be too packed, especially at 9:11."
"Take me there, please."
"Sure thing. It will take about twenty minutes to get there."
"That's okay."
He put the car into gear and drove off into the night.
Author's Note: So, what do you think? I have another chapter, but I'll only put it up if asked. Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes.