Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org
Summary: A lazy day and a lazy time to talk... not much of a plot, eh?
Sunday Morningby Sheryl Martin
It was a quiet time - a time for contemplation on the place one occupied in the universe; how you fit into the grand scheme of things; where you existed on the galactic scale.
It was also time to sleep in.
It was a Sunday morning.
Dana Scully lazily rolled over in the bed, flopping her arms around the spare pillow; pulling it in close to her chest. No autopsies, no X Files, no Fox Mulder.
The phone rang.
Well, two out of three wasn't too bad.
The phone rang again.
Could just ignore it. Say you turned it off accidentally.
And again.
And again.
And again.
The bastard kept hanging up as soon as the answering machine cut in; calling back to start the cycle all over again.
With a growl she snatched up the phone. "Hello!"
"Scully... did I wake you up?"
"OF COURSE YOU WOKE ME UP! YOU LET THE PHONE RING FOR TEN MINUTES AND DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE A MESSAGE! NOW WHAT IS SO DAMMED IMPORTANT THAT YOU JUST HAD TO CALL ME ON A SUNDAY MORNING!"
"..."
"MULDER! SAY SOMETHING!"
"... I had this feeling..." His voice trailed off. "I... I had this dream... but I guess you're okay..."
Her heart sank. Rubbing her eyes wearily, she sighed.
"I'm fine, Mulder." Drawing her knees up to her chin, she leaned back against the wall; tucking the pillow behind her shoulders. "Was it very bad?"
She could imagine his pouty lips flicking back and forth from under his teeth while he pondered his words.
"No... not really..."
He was lying. You didn't work with someone for months and months and not learn how to tell. He might be able to pull that off with Skinner, but not with her.
"Look, I'm awake - why don't you come over and I'll see what I can find for breakfast."
"It's okay, Scully... I'm sorry for waking you up..."
She heard the phone move away from his ear.
"MULDER!"
"What?" He was back in a second.
"If you think I can just roll over and go back to sleep now, you're crazier than I thought." She heard him chuckle. "And I'm sure not going to let you go back to sleep now. I'll see you in an hour." This time she hung up on him.
Dragging herself out from under the warm covers, Dana grumbled. This was not how she envisioned spending one of her few days off... well, not this part of it.
The phone rang. This time she grabbed it up before it hit the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Dana? You're up early for a Sunday morning..."
She sighed. "Hi, Mom. Well, I was planning to sleep in, but Mulder decided that I wasn't going to get that lucky...."
"You're not going off to work, are you?" The questioning made her wince. It was sprinkled liberally with that prying tone she hated.
"No, actually. I invited him over for breakfast." Dana held her breath, waiting for the next comment.
"Oh. Well, I was calling to invite you over for brunch, but if you want to bring Fox along..."
"Mom, he likes to be called Mulder. Mulder. His last name. Not Fox."
"And I'm old enough to do what I want." Margaret Scully laughed. "I'll expect the two of you around eleven or so."
"Mom..." Dana found herself talking to a dead line. Hanging the phone up, she looked around the apartment and smiled. At least the dishes wouldn't be all her problem.
A short fifty minutes later a rap came at her front door. Putting her hairbrush down, she checked that her blouse was fully buttoned before unlocking the deadbolt. No use tempting Fate.
"Hey, Scully..." Fox Mulder smiled, his hands tucked into the trench coat pockets. He had managed to scrape up a clean shirt and tie, and still managed to look like he was on his way into the office, even though she knew he'd kill her for suggesting it.
"Don't bother taking your coat off. We're leaving." She reached for her own trench coat.
"Ah... you decided we're eating out?" He smirked. "Too much work for you?"
"No, we're going to my mother's." Dana enjoyed the way his jaw hit the floor. "She's invited us for brunch, and she was kind of insistent that you come along."
"Ah... Scully..." He squirmed in his shoes, taking his hands from his pockets. "I don't want to intrude if you and your mom want to be alone..."
"I don't think that's the case, Mulder." She pushed him out the door. "Consider yourself a buffer zone."
**********
The fresh air filled the car as they drove leisurely out towards Margaret Scully's house; Dana deep in thought as they turned onto familiar streets and past old haunts.
"Does your mother do this a lot? I mean, invite people over for meals?"
Dana smiled. "As long ago as I can remember; we always had an extra place set for someone. Maybe one of Dad's crew who was too far away from home; maybe one of Billy's new girlfriends. Always had room for one more." She sighed, looking out the window. "Now, there's not as much time. Work, children... we don't have as many dinners together as she'd like. And since Dad died..." The sentence trailed off.
He nodded. "Yah. I remember being taken in by someone just like that while I was in Oxford. Big holiday, and I wasn't going home again. So he just called up his parents, and suddenly I was in the middle of the largest spread of food I'd ever seen." Fox chuckled at the memory. "I thought I was going to burst; and they kept offering me more and more."
"Then you're in great shape for one of Mom's brunches." Dana pointed out. "I might remind you that she's used to cooking for a Navy man and his sons."
"Oh, I've seen you eat, Scully." He smiled. "I'd say you inherited your dad's appetite as well as his sea legs."
***********
"Dana! Fox!" Hugging each of them tightly, the elder Scully beamed. "When I heard that you were going to be subjected to my daughter's cooking for breakfast, I thought I should save you."
Mulder grinned; ignoring the death stare from his partner. "Thanks for inviting me, Mrs. Scully."
"Margaret. I keep telling you that. Or Mom, if you get really desperate." She looked at Dana. "Mom's a good one..."
Sweeping Fox past her mother, Dana swiftly took his coat and her own, trying to get away from the questions. While she hung them up; she could hear her mother directing Mulder towards the table. Her imagination drew a picture of a table totally covered with food - pancakes, sausages... cold cereal if you wanted it; but toast and jam and jellies guaranteed to put you into a diabetic seizure. And maybe some of that genuine Canadian maple syrup that Jackie had sent down for Christmas. Definitely too sweet for the average bear.
Sure enough, she wasn't disappointed. Neither was Mulder, as he eagerly filled one plate so high with food that Scully wondered if his apartment cupboard was as bare as the typical bachelor's. Reaching for some fresh fruit, her mind shuddered at the thought of the amount of cooking her mother had done for them.
Margaret appeared from the kitchen; her own plate in hand. She grinned at the sight of Fox eagerly devouring the first of many pancakes; then started to fill her own plate. Ending up beside her daughter, she gave her a questioning stare.
"No, Mom. Just friends. Promise I'll let you know if anything happens. Really." Dana quickly went through the routine she had developed not soon after she had left the hospital. For some reason her mother was convinced that Mulder had some sort of romantic aspirations on her; and nothing Dana could say would deter her. Even when Melissa had died; she had looked at her one remaining daughter with a smile and a wink, as if to say that she was now looking at Dana to provide her with more grandchildren.
Mothers.
Gotta love them.
Or commit patricide, which was still a federal offence.
Staring at the amount of food Mulder was packing away, Scully wondered for a second if there wasn't some law about being able to eat so much and stay so thin. Must be at least twenty years for that. Must be.
Seating herself opposite from her partner, Dana watched in amazement as he continued to eat. Even on assignments she hadn't seen him eat so much. Out of the corner of her eye she spied her mother smiling in contentment, and dug into her own meal.
When they had all come up for air; about ten minutes later, Margaret reached for the pot of tea and poured out three mugs. Delicately eating her last piece of toast, she caught Fox's eye as he swirled a piece of pancake in a pool of syrup.
"So, Fox... what got you up so early on a Sunday morning? Planning to go for a run?"
"No..." Sitting back, he crossed his knife and fork in front of him on the plate. "I... well, I had a nightmare and felt that I should call Scully and see if she was alright." He waved a hand in the air. "Purely emotional, and I shouldn't have done it. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment things that happen to me every once in a while." He grinned. "Took me a while, but I woke her up."
"Not surprised at that. When she was in university we used to take turns calling her during exams to make sure that she made it to the class." Margaret smiled. "But tell me, do you have many dreams about my daughter?"
Mulder grabbed for his napkin; suddenly immersed in a coughing fit. Scully whipped around to stare at her mother, feeling the redness in her cheeks already beginning to burn.
"What I mean is..." Oblivious to the pair, the elder Scully continued. "In my family we've always put a lot of faith in our dreams. I had one just before your... abduction." Her face grew a bit paler as Dana watched. "And when I drove to your apartment, I found Fox there already. We've always trusted in our dreams, our nightmares to tell us what we should do or what we should watch out for."
Recovering quickly from his attack, Fox nodded. He still couldn't look at either of the women; so instead he focused in on a small puddle of syrup on the edge of his plate, dipping his finger into it and licking it off casually.
"Well, there are plenty of theories as to the meaning of dreams. Some hold that the dream state is nothing more than a clearing zone for the day's activities; a place where they are resorted and catalogued for your brain to remember - thus you have dreams about people and places you know." He paused, taking another lick of syrup. "Some others think that during the dream state you enter a different phase of consciousness; perhaps a higher stage where astral travel is possible and your experiences are true, but happening in a different universe." His eyes wandered around the table as he spoke; the low hum in his voice familiar to Scully.
"And premonitions?" Margaret said with a smile. He shrugged.
"Unfortunately there's no conclusive evidence that you can foretell the future through dreams. Though there are many documented cases dealing with the phenomena; nothing has ever been definitely proven..." He winked at Scully. "Or disproven, for that fact."
"Mulder..." Dana's voice was low and the slightest bit teasing. "I'm not going to get into a full fledged discussion of your theories on a Sunday morning. Not after being handicapped with food like this."
Pushing himself away from the table, the man sighed. "Well, if you don't want to get into that with me, then you can at least help me with the dishes." Nodding to Margaret, he began to gather the empty plates.
Giving her daughter an approving nod and wink, the elder Scully sat back and watched them clear the table; sipping her tea and smiling to herself.
"Your mother is quite an interesting woman." Mulder rolled his sleeves up to his elbows; preparing to fill the sink with water. Scully chuckled as she handed him the first stack.
"Tell me about it. Can't think of anyone stronger. And with all she's gone through..." Her voice went faint as she let out a sigh, thinking of Melissa and of her father's death. "She's a pillar of strength - when Dad was at sea, she'd be the one to tear the boys apart when they fought; hold Missy's hand when she came home from school upset; grumble when I hadn't done my homework..."
"Dana Scully, not doing her homework? My, my..." He grinned. "I keep finding something new about you every day, Scully..."
She smirked, flipping a handful of suds into his face. "And what about your family? Didn't you ever have family dinners?"
His eyes went distant. "Sure... plenty of them, actually. Even after Samantha..." He passed her a wet plate. "We kept trying to pretend that it was all just like it was before; that nothing had changed. But like they say, you can't go home again." Mulder fell silent for a few minutes, then continued. "Last time was when I came home from university; just before going to Quantico. My father wasn't impressed with me taking the Bureau up on their offer; my mother outraged that I was taking a federal job. Guess I know why now..." He sighed. "We just sat and ate; not talking. It was like watching one of those silent movies; where you only hear the music and you know they're talking but you can't hear the words. And that was the last time we tried to play the normal family." He finished up the last of the plates. "Your family sounds pretty cool, Scully... maybe I should apply for adoption." An evil glint came into his eye. "Of course, then there's the incest problem..."
Shaking her head with a smile, Dana tossed her towel over his shoulder and left him the remainder of the dishes. Walking out into the dining room again, she sat down beside her mother.
"You look tired, Mom... Mulder and I should really be going - we both have work tomorrow; and I've got stuff to do around the house..."
Margaret looked up wearily, her eyes sparkling. "Yes... I'm a bit tuckered out. Early Mass this morning, you know. And then I went by the graves..." She dabbed at her eyes for a second, then smiled. "So nice to have you two here... fills the house again with voices..."
"Well..." Dana patted her hand. "How about you come to my place next Sunday? Give me a reason to do some real cooking - you know that cooking for only one isn't much fun..."
"Me too?" She turned to see Mulder's expectant fact peeking out from the kitchen. With a sigh she nodded.
"Only if you promise to stop calling me on Sunday mornings."
"Stop calling you what?"
"Mulder..."
He raised his hands in surrender. "Mrs. Scully, your daughter's picking on me..." His voice took on a whiny tone. Margaret laughed.
"Fox, some battles you'll have to fight on your own." She got up from the chair, waving a finger in his direction. "And I'll warn you, Dana managed to pin both her older brothers many times when they wrestled."
"Ooohhh..." He shot another wink at Scully. "Another reason to join the family..."
*********
The drive back was quiet and peaceful; Scully feeling her eyelids droop as the relaxation set in. By the time Mulder pulled up to her front door; she was barely awake.
"Want me to carry you in, Scully?"
"Thanks, Mulder - I'll try to make it by myself." With a yawn she opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. "What's up for the morning?"
He shrugged. "Don't know yet. But I'm sure something'll come up. There always is." He paused for a second. "Thanks for the invite, Scully. Nice way to spend a day off."
"Don't thank me yet - you still have to survive next Sunday."
"I think that won't be a problem." He grinned. "I'll lay in a lot of Tums and Pepto..." With a smile and a wave he drove off, leaving the redhead shaking her head in a mixture of amusement and anger.
Tossing her purse on the couch as she walked in; Dana looked at the time. Four in the afternoon. Well, still time for a leisurely nap on the couch. Quickly undressing and hanging up the clothing in the closet, she put her pyjamas back on again and lay down on the couch; flipping through the channels until she found the least offensive program. Putting her head back, she closed her eyes and began to drift.
The phone rang.
Snatching it up quickly, she waited for a second before speaking.
"Scully?"
With a soft laugh, she responded. "Yes, Mulder? What now - another bad dream?"
"No... just wanted to thank you again for taking me along today. It was nice."
"No problem, Mulder. Now go to bed tonight and don't have any more dreams about me, okay?"
"Well, no nightmares, anyway. 'Night Scully."
Before she could respond, he hung up. Her laugh turned into a yawn as she curled up on the couch with the afghan and watched television.
"Good night, Mulder." She said softly. "Sweet dreams."
************
"You've become a world-class hopeless romantic.""Not hopeless... hopeful. A world-class hopeful romantic."Joan Wilder -- Romancing The Stone