Title: Lighting the Dark
Disclaimer: I still don't own them. No infringement intended. I wonder if the companies actually care anyway. Have you ever wondered? I think the producers would be flattered that people are out there writing stories about their show. Still, in case by some miracle chance, 20th Century Fox stumble upon my story, I want my disclaimer in place!
Rating: This story is rated M. Although this chapter doesn't feature any M rated material.
Author's Note: I decided this morning as I sat at my desk, plodding on with my day job, that I quite enjoyed creating this world for Mulder and Scully and I like how their relationship is now – so I am expanding this into a story. I don't know how long it will be or which direction it will take. But I'd love for you to join me, still!
"Why has your man never asked you to marry him?" Mary Pedersen asked as they, four surgeons, sat drinking coffee and eating plain buttered scones in the hospital canteen. Scully had not touched her scone, preferring the coffee alone. Anita Rodgers and Yvette Hardy turned their eyes on her too. She was an enigma, they thought. Rarely she spoke of her illusive partner or their lives together. Former FBI colleagues they knew.
"We never believed marriage was required to testament our relationship," answered Scully, tipping a droplet of cream into her coffee, distracting her hands. She was needed in surgery in twenty minutes and no matter how many procedures she performed, the pre-jitters that today something might go wrong, never faded.
"How long have you been together?" Yvette asked, nibbling on a forgotten raisin with her amber eyes trained on Scully. She was the kind of woman that Scully had speculated for years was 'Mulder's type'; long shapely legs, large breasts
and dark brown, perpetually silky tresses. Maybe she harboured some residual resentment towards such women for she'd never really warmed to Dr Hardy.
"Eight years. We worked together for seven prior to that." Mary chortled, ruffling her short blonde tresses. Dr Pedersen was in her late fifties but she looked twenty years younger. Her bronzed skin was firm and although laughter-lines had appeared at the corners of her bright green eyes, she wore them well. Her hair was immaculate, kept short and tidy and always a honey colour. She was warm and easy-going.
"Seven years you waited to snag him? That's patience for you. I'd known Erik two weeks before I claimed him for my own." She uncrossed her legs and got to her feet. "Of course, with his Scandinavian good looks, I could barely resist." Scully had seen Mary's husband once. Erik Pedersen worked in another local hospital as an Oncologist. He had fair skin, high cheek-bones and ice-berg blue eyes that seemed to peer right through her. "No kids, Dana?"
This question never failed to sour her mood. She'd been asked numerous times in the past six years and each time, her heart gave a painful twinge. Outwardly, her expression did not change. "No. No kids." William's cherub face, eternally a baby to her, swam before her mind's eye and she forced herself to take a long, laboured breath. She wondered if she'd ever lose the feeling of emptiness when she thought of her son. "Well," she cleared her throat with firm determination. "I had better get upstairs."
Her three colleagues bid her goodbye, recognising that Mary might have touched upon a sensitive subject. It was a long time after she left that they spoke again.
"You're home early," Mulder said, looking up from the pages he'd spread across the kitchen table. The FBI had a serial killer on their hands and the media had gotten wind of it. Even without the full details, he'd written a profile. The bureau had asked for his help once and his freedom was guaranteed now that he had – and although they hadn't asked for it this time, something about the brutal attacks had left him curious. There was no taste of paranormal and yet it didn't bother him.
"I got finished early," she explained, pausing by the table's edge to examine his handwritten notes. A slender eyebrow twitched upwards and her eyes followed, meeting his. "Profiling a serial killer? Did you get a call?" Mulder laughed.
"For something as mundane as this? No. I'm just interested." Her fingers knotted momentarily in his hair as she passed to fill the kettle. "How was surgery?" Her shrug was half-hearted. "Is something wrong?" It was her stance, he thought, that gave it away. Her shoulders were tight – as though carrying the weight of something heavy.
"Not really," she replied. "Tea?"
"Please. Not really, it's not exactly a 'no', is it? Sit down." Scully allowed him to ease her off her jacket and usher to the table where she tentatively pushed aside his notes. "You're not still thinking about the patient who died, are you?" Her fingers found the back of her neck and began to kneed the tight muscles there. After a moment, Mulder took over, pressing his thumbs into the knots.
"One of my colleagues asked me if I had any children. You know how it upsets me." He gave a sad, heavy sigh as he worked down her shoulders. "I hate denying that William ever existed. I know I have to..." Head bowed, she picked idly at her thumb nail until the smooth pale pink polish chipped away. "I sometimes wonder if we'll ever escape the darkness." His hands stopped now, a warm comforting weight upon her shoulders.
The kettle bubbled nosily and he released her. "We've spent the past six years pulling each other out of the hole," Mulder said as he prepared orange tea, knowing that the citrusy scent always calmed her. "Maybe we don't do enough. Maybe we need a vacation? Something to distract us?" She was watching him through her hair, surprised. "I still have my mother's house. It's by the sea and private." She knew he liked privacy – it was one of the reasons why they choose to live in such a secluded area. Nothing for miles but trees and wildlife. "Since I'm no longer a wanted man," Mulder added with a grin. He set the tea before her, kissing her forehead. "We've been living in the darkness for too long now, Scully. Maybe it's time we lived a little." She could quite vividly recall a number of occasions that she'd advised him that they live their lives and stop chasing monsters and aliens and government conspiracies.
"Maybe you're right," she conceded. "Although I'm not sure how much I'll relax visiting your mother's home when it's been empty for over half a decade." He kissed her now, loving her more for her perpetual need for cleanliness.
"There's a woman who visits twice a month to keep the place clean and a gardener who tends to the lawns. Come on, it'll be fun." Fun, he recalled, was what he'd told her when they'd went into the forest and been almost eaten alive by killer bugs. He smiled. "This really will be fun," he promised knowing she was thinking the same thing. "You're due time off work anyway and oh my God am I actually the one convincing you to take a vacation?" She laughed at that, swatting him away.
"Fine, we'll go."
He moved off, smiling.
"Did I mention it was by the beach?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Why do I think you're not implying sunbathing, Mulder?" Scully quipped, sipping her tea. He chuckled.
"Because you know me too well, Scully."
-End-