A/N: I don't know where all these oneshots are coming from, but I'm not complaining. This one is a pre-ep for Beyond the Sea. Happy reading, reviews are most welcome!
Disclaimer: Chris Carter owns them, I'm just playing.
Daddy's Girl
He enters the café with a sigh of relief. Inside, it's a few degrees cooler than out on the street. It is a welcome change. The air conditioning unit at his apartment complex has broken down during the night, which wouldn't have been such a tragedy if not for the heat wave that washed over DC several days before and didn't seem willing to dispel any time soon. That, combined with the fact he had absolutely no food at his place, has definitely been a good enough reason to go out.
It's Saturday, but the streets of downtown Washington are fairly deserted. He assumes people are spending their weekends with their families out of town or in houses where the air conditioning is actually working. He curses his bad luck. For the first time in weeks, possibly months, he has decided not to spend the weekend at the office. He actually stayed until late at work the previous night to clear out his desk of anything distantly urgent. And now his apartment is more stifling than a sauna and it's generally too hot out to do anything. Typical.
The café is bustling with people and their voices, along with the chattering of dishes and the smell of coffee and frying oil, are momentarily overpowering. He chooses a seat by the bar and orders a beer. As he waits he looks around the room, a habit he has never fully rid himself of since working for Violent Crimes. Once a paranoid, always a paranoid. Apparently those who weren't out of town had the same idea as he did. He assumes they were all desperate to escape the sweltering streets. A few seats away from his, three men look sweaty and uncomfortable in their suits. He's suddenly glad he has decided not to work today and thus ditch his suit for a much more comfortable jeans and tee shirt combination.
His beer arrives and he sips the cold liquid while scanning the menu. He orders a steak and fries and smiles uncertainly at the waitress, who is clearly checking him out. She hasn't said anything personal yet, but he predicts it will be her next step. Distressed, he turns to look around the room again, but every other seat in the café is taken. Then something catches his eye and he does a double take, but there's really no need to. They've only been working together for six months or so, but he will recognize her anywhere, even in pitch darkness, or a crowded room.
For it is definitely his partner who is sitting by a small side table. She is wearing a light green dress with thin straps, her red hair curling softly against her shoulders. The change in her appearance overwhelms him. Gone is tough, no nonsense Special Agent Scully. The woman sitting across the room from him is Dana through and through. A hint of something tugs at his heart as he realizes he has never seen her look so casual, not even in between investigations in the field. And he likes what he sees. She looks younger, carefree and, yes, beautiful.
He turns his gaze – albeit reluctantly – upon the man she's sitting with. He is bald and sturdy and not young enough for him to assume that what he's witnessing is a date. The man is speaking to her for a long moment, and she seems enthralled by whatever it is he is saying. Her eyes never leave his, even when she raises her tall glass of iced tea to her lips. This is strange. He knew that she wasn't the loner that he had always considered himself to be, but she had never mentioned any friend who might be –
And then, upon a closer observation, he sees it. The same shape of nose, the slightly pointed chin, the curl of the upper lip. This must be her father, the renowned Captain Scully.
His food arrives, and he turns back to the bar with certain unwillingness. He's become too distracted to enjoy his lunch. He keeps glancing over his shoulder. They're still there whenever he looks, father and daughter deep in conversation. He wonders what they're talking about. He knows of her father's disappointment at her decision to join the FBI. He doesn't seem too upset with her right now, he notes with some relief. He knows how much her father's approval means to her. She speaks about him frequently, probably more than she realizes. He wonders if she tells her father about her work at the FBI, about the X Files, about himself. He wonders what Captain Scully makes of the fact his little girl has left behind what could surely be a brilliant career in medicine in order to chase aliens with the black sheep of the FBI.
His lunch is mostly forgotten as he observes their interaction with fascination. He is familiar with her deep concentration during a conversation, but the way she looks at her father… It's as though nothing else exists. They could have been sitting there all by themselves. He notes the way she tilts her head ever so slightly as she listens, the smile that gradually curls on her lips. It has been a while since he's seen her smile like that. She used to smile more often when they had just met. He assumes that as she has become more familiar with the job, with him, she doesn't find as many things to smile about.
As he watches her, he becomes aware of a whole new side of her, a softer side, one she seems to be making great efforts to keep hidden while at work. Realizing how much he has been missing, he resents her for doing so, but at the same time he understands her motives. Being a woman in what is widely considered a men's world, one must do what she needs to survive. There's no place for vulnerability, not even a hint of it. She's been putting on a good act, and he can't help but admire her for it. He has never suspected that side of her existed until he has witnessed it firsthand.
Her father is signaling a passing waitress, who disappears and returns shortly afterwards with a small silver tray she places on their table. She reaches for the check, but her father gently slaps her hand away and reaches for his wallet. She says something, probably trying to protest, but the older man is persistent. Well, that sure explains a lot, he muses. He watches as they stand up at the exact same moment. She slips a worn brown handbag on her shoulder. He can now see she's wearing flat sandals, which is another striking change from her army of sensible shoes that are inseparable from her work wardrobe.
Captain Scully carries himself with grace he would never have associated with a man of his stature. He is dressed casually in a light blue dress shirt and dark trousers, but it's easy to imagine him in his uniform all the same. He watches as his partner moves closer to her father and kisses his cheek affectionately. She needs to stand on tiptoes to do so. He can't help but smile. She looks about twelve. She leans against her father's arm as he leads her out of the café. They pass him on their way out. The resemblance is even more striking when they're so close. She has inherited his azure eyes, his fair complexion. She is her father's daughter, without a doubt.
He doesn't even get a chance to make his presence known. She walks passed him without even noticing him. Her father is all she sees. It's so endearing that he isn't even offended. As he stares after them, leaving the café, he can't help feeling envious as he thinks of his own father. Their relationship is shaky at best. Even if her father still disapproves of her choices in life, he hasn't detected any dissatisfaction on his behalf as he has observed them. He listened to what she had to say. He seemed interested in whatever it was she told him. Most of all, he seemed proud of his daughter, something he has never been fully certain his own father felt with regards to him and his achievements. If he could be half as close to his father as she seemed to be to hers…
He knows this is partly his own fault. He had never truly let his parents in, not since they lost Samantha. Whereas he has been somewhat closer to his mother, he has always detached himself from his father. Maybe there lay his mistake. He shouldn't have done that. Had he been less bitter, more attentive, more willing, his father could have been sitting there with him, or he could have spent the weekend at the Vineyard. They could play chess on the porch, like they did in his boyhood. They could have beer and watch the twilight descending, maybe even catch a game.
He is sipping what's left of his beer, places some money on the bar and leaves the café. The heat is like a punch to his face, but recovers remarkably fast. He looks around him, but Scully and her father are no longer around. He heads back to his apartment, thinking of his father and hers, of past and future, of redemption and possibilities.
x
That summer day seems long ago when he hangs up the phone with sleep still in his eyes. It's three in the morning early in the month of January, and he has just received a call from Scully, telling him her father has died. The phone is as heavy as still as he sets it on the coffee table. He thinks of the man he has seen only months before, so full of life and vigor. He thinks of his daughter, the pink in her cheeks, the glimmer in her eyes, as she took in every word he said. Listening to her on the phone was heart wrenching. She sounded as though she was holding back with all her might. He could picture her in her dark apartment, holding the phone to her ear with tears streaming down her face.
He can only imagine what she is going through. She didn't say much, but he could sense her pain nonetheless. She didn't seem aware of the fact it was the dead of night and that she woke him up. She didn't even apologize and it isn't like her, but he isn't going to resent her for it. He is truly worried about her. He knows how close she was to her father. That combined with his sudden death… it's not going to be easy for her.
He curls back on the sofa, enveloped by darkness, but he can't go back to sleep now. She's all he thinks about now. He toys with the idea of getting dressed and going to her place, but eliminates it as soon as it invades his mind. He is getting ahead of himself. Although they have gotten close enough over the last few months, their partnership is not even a year old, and she might not appreciate such familiarity. He will just have to wait for the morning to call her again and make sure she is alright. He assumes she won't be coming to work and that's fine. Maybe he can call her as soon as he walks in and see if he can come to the funeral. Yes, that is the honorable thing to do. This is what partners do. He is sure she won't mind it.
Feeling somewhat more reassured but not less gloomy, he closes his eyes. As sleep finally finds him again, one image lingers in his mind, of a redheaded young woman in a green summer dress, looking up at a man who sort of looks like her, whom she worshipped, whom she lost. In his mind's eye she isn't Special Agent Scully, his partner. She is Dana Scully, daddy's girl.