Lightning and a Lightning Bug
Author: Frohike
Email: frohike51@aol.com
Rating: PG-13, because Mulder says a naughty word *g*
Category: MSR, sort of
Distribution: Anywhere you want. Just keep my name and email addy attached. Let me know where you put it, so I can come and visit sometime.
Disclaimer: Mulder's not mine, neither is Scully. They belong to the Master of Yuppie Morbidity, 1013 Productions, FOX, and all the other conglomerates that have their fingers in the pie. I just like to take them out to play once in a while.
Spoilers: Passing reference to DPO. Quotes respectfully borrowed from the following episodes ~~ Pilot, Squeeze, Little Green Men, One Breath, Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose, Memento Mori, Folie a Deux, Arcadia, The Unnatural and Millennium, so if you haven't seen these eps, and why are you here if you haven't, you might miss the train of thought. These are taken out of context, so none will spoil any individual episode. This is sometime after Millennium, but before whatever episode you believe they finally consummated their relationship. I'm not getting into that argument again! *g*
This is what happens when friends make friends write fic.
Happy Birthday, Mel! Hope this meets with your approval.
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"The difference between the right word and the almost right word, is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." Mark Twain
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Mulder made it in the door before the first bolt of lightning hit. He was soaked to the bone, having been caught in the storm on his way home from a pick-up game in the park. The basketball was tossed into the far corner of the room, wet socks and shoes left in a puddle by the door.
Padding across the apartment to the bathroom, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and dumped them on the tiled floor. He'd intended to take a shower, but the lightning made him reconsider; ever since the Darren Peter Oswald case, he took no chances with lightning.
He grabbed a towel and dried off, rubbing it through his hair to stop the drips from running down his back. The yellow pajama bottoms were draped over the bed, so he grabbed them and tugged them on, leaving the towel in their place. The blinking light on the answering machine caught his eye and he walked over to play the message.
Beep
. "Mulder, it's me. Pick up if you're there." Long pause. " OK, I guess you're not home. Look…about today… I'm sorry…I…I didn't mean…"ZAP! CRASH!
The lights went out, plunging Mulder into darkness.
"Shit," he muttered. They'd had the mother of all fights this afternoon, replete with name-calling and finger pointing. It had ended with Mulder storming out the door, resolving to sever all ties with her; a thought he'd expressed loudly as he left. At the time, he'd meant it. The sound of her voice on the machine grated on his nerves and he realized that he might still mean it.
He felt his way over to the nightstand, hoping to find a flashlight. His fingers found the drawer, but when he located the flashlight, the bulb flickered, then burned out. "Damn it!" He tossed the light across the room in irritation.
ZAP! CRASH!
The room lit up from the nearby lightning strike. He pulled the blinds in the bedroom to let the storm give him the light he was looking for. The rain was coming down in sheets; he could barely make out the cars parked in front of the building. Mulder rested his hands on the glass, his head brushing the bottom of the raised metal blinds, as he watched the rain's vain attempt to make the world clean again.
ZAP! CRASH!
Lightning hit right in front of his window, sending a charge through the blinds and into Mulder's skull. He reared back in pain. Stumbling over the flashlight, he fell backwards, hitting his head on the dresser. 'CRASH!' he thought, before he blacked out.
ZAP!
"Agent Mulder? I'm Dana Scully, I've been assigned to work with you."
"Oh, isn't it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded. So, who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?"
ZAP!
"It seems like you were acting very territorial. I don't know, forget it"
"Of course I was. In our investigations, you may not always agree with me, but at least you respect the journey. And if you want to continue working with them, I won't hold it against you."
"I don't know, you must have something more than your polygraph interpretation to back up this bizarre theory and I have to see what it is."
ZAP!
"You know, an electrical surge in the outlet during the storm may have deguassed everything, erasing the entire tape. You still have nothing."
"I may not have the X-Files, Scully. But I still have my work. And I've still got you. And I still have myself."
ZAP!
"I feel, Scully…that you believe…that you're not ready to go. And you've always had the strength of your beliefs. I don't know if my being here…will help bring you back. But I'm here."
ZAP!
"Be honest, Scully. Doesn't that propane tank bear more than just a slight resemblance to a fat, little, white Nazi stormtrooper?"
"Mulder, the human mind naturally seeks meaningful patterns and configurations in things that don't inherently have any. Given the suggestion of a particular image, you can't help but see that shape somewhere. If that tank weren't there, you'd see it in a rock or in a tree…"
"Did you answer my question?"
"Yes, it looks like a fat, little, white Nazi stormtrooper, but that only proves my point."
ZAP!
"Mulder, I can't kid myself. People live with cancer. They carry on and so will I. You know, I've got things to finish, to prove to myself and to my family…but for my own reasons."
"Come on back. The truth will save you, Scully. I think it will save both of us."
ZAP!
"What did you tell him?"
"The truth, as well as I understand it."
"Which is?"
"Folie a deux. A madness shared by two."
ZAP!
"Rob and Laura Petrie?"
"Pee-trie."
"Mulder, if we ever go undercover again, I get to choose the names, okay?"
ZAP!
"So, uh…I get this message marked urgent on my answering machine from one Fox Mantle telling me to come down to the park for a very special very early or very late birthday present. And Mulder…I don't see any nicely wrapped presents lying around, so what gives?"
ZAP!
"Ok, now we want to…we want to go hips before hands, okay? We want to stride forward and turn. That's all we're thinking about. So we go hips…before hands, all right?"
ZAP!
"Shut up, Mulder. I'm playing baseball."
ZAP!
"The world didn't end."
"No, it didn't."
ZAP!
Mulder moaned and rubbed his eyes. Opening them slowly, he looked around for the truck that hit him. His first attempt to lift himself off the floor failed miserably; his head throbbed, forcing him back to carpet.
"Scully?" he whispered.
The lights came on and the answering machine whirred, restarting the message. "…at I said. Call me when you get this. Please."
The sound of her voice no longer grated on his nerves; it was the only sound he wanted to hear. Leave Scully? What had he been thinking? The throbbing in his head had reduced to a dull roar, so he struggled to his feet and walked to the answering machine. He pressed rewind and listened to her message again.
Beep
. "Mulder, it's me. Pick up if you're there." Long pause. " OK, I guess you're not home. Look…about today…I'm sorry…I…I didn't mean what I said. Call me when you get this. Please."She'd been crying. He could hear a small hitch in her voice when she asked him to return her call.
Mulder reached for the phone. It was almost 2 AM, but he didn't think she'd be any closer to sleep than he was. The phone rang only once before she picked up.
"Hi, it's me. No, don't…I'm sorry. I didn't…I know you didn't either. Can I come over? We need to talk. I don't know… maybe discuss the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." Mulder smiled. "That's OK, I'll explain it when I get there."