TITLE: Spunk (BOOK I)
AUTHOR: Rain Garcia Chua (formerly "Agent Rain")
RATING: I'm keeping it PG-13 as much as I can.
KEYWORDS: A/U
SPOILERS: none
SUMMARY: All she ever wanted to do was dance. All he really wanted was a break. What happened after, well, wasn't really in the script.
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter and Seasons 8 and 9 made it clear that they were never ours in the first place.
PROLOGUE:
Milford Haven, Wales
Great Britain
8 January 1985
Tuesday
If it wasn't really fucking bad enough for the bad day she was adjusting to, the weather was not too keen on cooperating, either. The clouds over her were becoming angrier and angrier with each passing second that she was just sitting there in the middle of the damn dirt road, waiting for a cab to hail. The chance that she will get a cab within the next hour is 1 in 5. That was not really alarming, since if she waited at the other dirt road, the chance will be 1 in 10.
Dana Scully, in her frustration, kicked a wayward rock at least eight centimeters from the front of her shoe, then sat back down on the dusty road. She glanced at her wristwatch and sighed; she had been standing at that exact position for two hours, seventeen minutes, and eight seconds. One more second and she would start walking until she reached the airport. That was roughly more than a hundred freaking miles.
She rolled her eyes. Piece of cake.
Scully removed the baseball cap from her head, ran her fingers through her frizzy perm, and dusted the cap against her chest. She forcefully pushed herself up, dusted her ass, and anchored the cap back on her head. Piece of cake. She would be there in no time.
She counted five steps towards her destination when she heard a shrill shout behind her:
"DANA!"
Scully forcefully bit her lip and swore under her breath. Great. Now, it was a piece of bullshit.
"DANA!" The voice was coming closer.
She stopped. Sure. Fine. What the hell, anyway? Was she going to make Melissa chase her until they reached the airport? The woman was pregnant, for God's sake. She had to stop – she had no fucking choice.
Scully sighed heavily and faced her heaving, very pregnant, sister. In response, Melissa straightened her semi-curly strawberry blond hair away from her face and then smiled for Scully, even if her face was about to burst from the sudden physical activity.
"What?" Scully immediately answered back before Melissa could start coming up with unnecessary explanations. This, she hoped, was going to be a piece of cake, too.
"Whe- where are you going, sweetie?" Missy asked, her tone softer than what she expected. Great. Missy only talked soft when she was worried. Great. Now she had to be mindful of her pregnant, worried sister. Piece of shit. Remove the damn bull in it. This one was all shit.
Scully stood up a little straighter and stared at her sister straight in the eye. "America," she answered back with all the confidence she could muster. Melissa raised an eyebrow, but to her credit, she acted as if she was not surprised.
"Dana, sweetie, what are you going to do in America?" Her sister craned her neck to inspect the backpack Scully had hanging on one of her shoulders. Missy grimaced. "And you're only bringing THAT?"
Scully squirmed. She wanted to run away from Melissa. Run far, far away from all this shit so that she did not have to stand there in the middle of the damn dirt road and answer all of her sister's nosy questions. God dammitt. She needed a piece of miracle right now. "Buzz off, Missy. I am going to America, OK? End of conversation; end of YOUR questions; end of all THIS!" She resisted the urge to spit on the ground and instead headed once again towards that roughly one hundred mile hike she was about to take.
Missy struggled to keep up with her. "C'mon chwaer!" The British accent was more prominent with Missy when she was frustrated. She also only spoke Welsh when she was truly frustrated, so Scully knew she was not getting out of this easily.
Scully used to hope that she had Missy's accent – when Scully spoke, it was all British from the capitalizations to the dots. Not that it was bad, but it somehow added more complications to her plans of being an American immigrant. She did want to blend in as much as possible.
"Darling," Missy once again softened her tone, still pushing forward with her incessant nagging. Scully kept going forward, too. "Please, let's talk about this, okay? How much do you have in your wallet?"
Scully paused, mentally counted the money she stuffed in her wallet, and replied, "500 US Dollars."
Missy reacted with a faint, "Oh my God." She moved closer to Scully. "Hon, you're not going to get anywhere with that. Here, let me write you a check …"
"I don't need a check, Missy. I'm going away, okay? I'm going far away from this bloody place!" Scully breathed out. She had to swallow hard to stop the tears from her eyes. This was not the time for sentimentality. Piece of ass that it was. She began to walk once more
"Well, then, at least tell me what you're going to do in America!"
That made Scully stop. Seeing this final opportunity, Missy hopped to tower over her little sister. Melissa was all stomach now, but she was also an intimidating five and seven inches tall. Scully was pure bone, a bit of fat where she wanted it, and muscles – all five and three inches of her. Damn it, Missy could outdo her in these staring contests anytime, all the time.
Ignoring her panic, she lifted her chin and calmly stated her answer in her best Welsh: "Fi m yn cerdded at dawnsia."
The translation? "I'm going to dance."
Missy threw her hands up in the air. Exasperated, she took Scully by the shoulders and shook her sister hard. "Wake up, Dana! You're not going to get anywhere with your dancing! Of all the things … God! You're so cliché, you know that? So fucking cliché!"
Pregnant women were dangerous to anger, but hell, short women were even more dangerous. Scully shoved her sister out of her way and continued walking. "I don't care. I don't care about you, or this place, or Bill, or Charles … I'm leaving. Forget that I ever existed!"
"Perfect," Missy discreetly said, but in the middle of a damn dirt road, Scully heard it loud and clear. Before Scully knew it, her sister was keeping up again with her. "Fine, so go there and dance all you want in America! Just promise me that you'll write me so I can send you some money!"
Scully ignored Melissa. She jerked her backpack tighter against her shoulder and rubbed her eyes. She was not going to cry, not now, damn it.
Melissa took her forcefully by the arm and stared at her eye-to-eye. "Swear by Mother's grave that you'll write to me every month! Swear by Mother's grave NOW!"
She gritted her teeth as she answered, "Fine."
Missy released her arm. Serendipitously, at that exact moment, a cab passed by. Scully hailed it with her free arm and ran towards it when it stopped a few meters in front of them. She sat in the passenger's side.
Melissa was still standing there, appearing a wee bit surprised that Scully was really that determined.
Before Scully could close the car door, she stuck her head out and shouted, "Go home, Miss! Don't want to get you all wet!"
The sky groaned in protest and thundered hard. Missy almost jumped at the sound. Scully grinned and saluted her sister as the cab drove off, leaving the pregnant Melissa all alone there on the damn dirt road.
End of Prologue
NOTES: Chwaer is "sister" in Welsh.
MORE NOTES: Yes, this is the same fic you read at least ten years ago. It is better though, because I have edited and rewritten some parts of it. And yes, just like The X- Files Revival, I rebooted "Spunk" to finally finish it (or at least tie up loose ends, which I am hoping Mr. Carter does this time around).
As always, I welcome with open arms reviews/favorites/follows from both old and new readers alike. As Spunk would say, "You better bloody write me something here, you chocoholic you!"