Night Walkby Sheryl Martin
Fox Mulder looked out the window, then returned to his pacing back and forth in his apartment. It was one in the morning; and he coudnÕt sleep. Again. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. Maybe a quick walk would help....
He strode along the sidewalk, watching the Saturday night crowds surge around him. A couple caught his eye; a young man eagerly kissing an enthusiastic woman, pressing her against the wall as he ran his hands over her body. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and walked on; letting his feet choose their own path.
Dragging his gaze up from the concrete, Fox realised with a start that he was in front of Dana ScullyÕs building. Noticing the light in her living room window, he paused for a second. His hand crept to his cel phone, pulling it clear of his pocket. Licking his lips nervously, he punched in the number.
ÒHello?Ó
ÒScully, itÕs Mulder...Ó He stopped, suddenly apprehensive. ÒDid I wake you?Ó
ÒNo, no... IÕm just reading. CanÕt get to sleep.Ó Her voice took on a note of concern. ÒAre you alright?Ó
ÒYah, yah... I was just wondering...Ó Taking a deep breath, he continued. ÒCan I come in?Ó
ÒIn? Where...Ó He saw her face appear at the window. ÒMulder, I do have an intercom.Ó Her gentle laugh made him smile. ÒGet over here before you get picked up for loitering.Ó
Opening the door, she shook her head. ÒYou look awful.Ó His eyes took in her loose flannel shirt, draped over a blue tshirt and jeans. ÒCome in. IÕm just making up some warm milk.Ó
Throwing his coat on the far chair, he rubbed his face with his football jersey, feeling the stubble as he sat on the couch. Dana stood in the kitchen, stirring the pot as she reached for another mug.
ÒSo how come youÕre up at this ungodly hour?Ó
He shrugged. ÒJust canÕt sleep. You?Ó
ÒI was working on those reports for Skinner. Suddenly it was past midnight; and I need to wind down before I go to bed.Ó She walked over, passing him a warm ceramic mug. ÒI put a bit of honey in.Ó Looking at the window, she paused. ÒA full moon. No wonder youÕre up.Ó
ÒCheck my facial hair out.Ó He grinned. ÒWanna hear me howl?Ó
ÒI think the neighbours might complain.Ó Dana smiled.
ÒSo what are you reading?Ó Fox looked over the books spread across the table in front of him.
ÒOh, a bit of everything.Ó She sat in the chair opposite him. ÒMy dad would to read to me whenever he got the time - used to help me relax. It probably did the same for him.Ó
ÒI donÕt remember ever being read to.Ó Fox mused. ÒMust have missed that part of my childhood.Ó He looked up. ÒDoes it help?Ó
ÒWell, I read aloud.Ó Dana almost blushed. ÒIt just feels good to hear the words in your own voice...Ó Reaching over, she picked up a thin volume. ÒIt sounds nice.Ó
ÒI believe it.Ó Fox lay back on the sofa, sipping the milk. ÒWhatÕs that one?Ó
ÒKipling. Rikki-tikki-tavi.Ó Flipping the book open, she began to read softly, tucking her feet up on the chair beside her.
ÒThis is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bathrooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the tailor-bird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, give him advice; but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting.Ó Fox closed his eyes, picturing the scenes as her voice caressed his ears.
ÒWho has delivered us, who? Tell me his nest and his name. Rikki, the valiant, the true, tikki, with eyeballs of flame -- Rikki-tikki-tavi, the ivory-fanged, the hunter with eyeballs of flame!Ó Dana reached for her mug, never taking her eyes off the pages as she took a mouthful of milk. The tension left her body as she fell into the story, embracing the simple tale of a mongoose fighting to clear its house of a nest of cobras...
ÒRikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself; but he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, till never a cobra dared showed its head inside the walls.Ó With a deep yawn she closed the book. She could fall asleep any minute now... Looking up, she smiled.
Fox lay silently on the sofa, his relaxed breathing steady as he slept. Quietly setting the book down, she pulled the afghan over him, tenderly tucking it around his shoulders. His lips twitched for a second as she gently moved a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.
ÒSweet dreams.Ó Dana whispered. ÒThe hunter with eyeballs of flame...Ó
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"If you will practice being fictional for a while, you will understand that fictional characters are sometimes more real than people with bodies and heartbeats."Richard Bach -- "Illusions"