Bloomfield, Kansas
Though she's only been here for twenty-four hours, the house seems so familiar. There's something about it that feels so right, yet so amazing and new, that Dana Scully just cannot put her finger on. It was a large, two story house- much bigger than three people needed. The bedrooms were upstairs, and theirs had its own private bathroom. Maybe Scully felt the way she did because the house had that cozy, home-ish feel to it. Whatever it was, she's spent half the morning trying to tell herself it's nothing, and the other half trying to convince herself it is. "The bureau went all out on this place, didn't they, Mulder?"
"Sugar-pumpkin," he said walking into the room, "we're married now. You don't have to call me by my, I mean, our last name."
"And what would you like me to call you, dear?"
"How about Rodriguez?"
"Why Rodriguez?"
"It's just as ridiculous as Fox but a hell of a lot cooler."
Before she could add to their conversation, the doorbell rang, sending Scully to her feet. "That must be David." She gripped the doorknob firmly. "Are you ready to become parents, Rodriguez?"
"Why do I feel like we forgot an important, sexy, step?"
She laughed as she opened the door. There, on the step, stood a woman in a black pantsuit. To her side stood a young boy, a ball cap covering his dark hair, looking down at his shoes with his skateboard and suitcase in hand. The suitcase must have been half his size, she mused, as he set it down. "Well, you must be David," Scully said, smiling. He looked up and gave her a sheepish smile.
"Mrs. and Mr. Mulder? I'm Sandra Richter; I'm here to drop off David," the woman said, extending her hand. Turning to David, she added, "You'll be okay here, right?"
"Yeah," he said meekly.
"Here, let me help you with that suitcase," Mulder said, stepping forward. He gripped the suitcase handle and tried to pick it up, but it would not budge.
"No, I got it. Thanks, though," David replied picking it up again. Scully was talking to Sandra, and David was still looking at the ground; Mulder felt the obligation to talk.
"So, I see you like baseball," he said, eying the boy's cap.
"Yeah. I watch it all the time. I like to play too, but I never really got a chance to." His face seemed to get sad when he said it.
"Maybe we could go out and toss a few balls around," Mulder said.
"Yeah, maybe."
"Well, David," Scully said as she shut the door, "make yourself at home."
"Thanks, Mrs. Mulder."
"Please, call me Dana," she said. There was a moment of awkward silence, and she wondered why her partner was not saying anything. Finally, she elbowed him in the side. "Oh, uh, you can call me Fox," he said, looking away and rubbing his side.
"Fox?" David asked. As he looked up, Scully could see his deep brown eyes and the corner of his mouth upturned slightly. "What's that? Is it like a name your college buddies gave you?"
"No," Mulder replied, looking down at his hands. "It's the name my parents gave me. They had a cruel sense of humor." He smiled a little as he spied the slight upturn of David's lips. "So, you skateboard?"
"Yeah. I haven't done it much lately, though."
He looked down at the floor. Mulder rocked on his heels. The silence was so awkward and seemed to drag on forever. Finally, Scully broke it. "So, David, what else do you like to do?"
If he says senseless acts of violence, can we go home? Mulder thought. It wasn't even three minutes into the case, and already he hated it more than he had in D.C.
"I don't know. Not much. Play computer games and stuff."
"Oh really?" Mulder asked, perking up a bit. "Have you ever heard of Galaxy Cross?"
"Heard of it? It's my favorite game! I've almost beat the Zardak Army."
"Really? I can't get past the Pungan Pig Warrior. He keeps slaying all my privates."
Scully was blushing.
"Do you want to challenge me at it sometime?" David asked.
"Sure, why not?" Noticing Scully glaring at him, he hastily added, "If you really want me to, that is."
"Why don't I show you to your room, David?" Scully asked, offering to carry his suitcase.
"Thanks, Mrs. Mulder, but I can get my suitcase," he said. He started up the stairs at Scully's direction.
"All of your privates, Mulder?" She smiled as she said it, rubbing it in so very slyly.
"I lead a very sad and pathetic life, Scully." He watched her go up the stairs. At least the kid has some redeeming qualities, Mulder thought, rubbing his hands together. Something felt funny. He looked down at the palm of his hand, the one he had tried to pick the suitcase up with, and noticed it was now black...
"Well, you and David really hit it off, Mulder," Scully said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was spreading a sleeping bag out of the floor and never bothered to look up.
"I can't help it if we have a lot in common." No matter how bitter he tried to make the words sound, she saw through it. He was enjoying David's company. They had laughed at dinner like old friends seeing each other for the first time in ages. He was smiling in a way that she did not see very often from him; it was like he was actually happy.
"What do you think of him, Scully?" Mulder asked.
"Of David?" she asked. He nodded. "I think he's a very sweet, charming, and endearing young man."
"Synonymous with 'conniving, manipulative, conman'. He doesn't act like someone who's lost his entire family."
"Well, Mulder, it was pretty traumatic. He could be repressing, or, for fear of being caught, he could be putting on a front to throw us off. You know how those manipulative conmen are."
He nodded and reached up to the lamp sitting on the nightstand. "Goodnight, sugar lumpkin," he said, switching it off.
"Goodnight, Mulder," she replied. She pulled the covers over her, filling a little guilty that her partner was sleeping on the floor. She had offered him the bed, volunteering to take the floor herself, but he had refused. It was one of the few redeeming qualities of the male ego. Now she lied, the coolness of the sheets against her body and the soft feather pillow underneath her head. Outside, a storm was picking up. Every few seconds the dark silence of the room was shattered by the violent fury of light and noise just beyond the window. Something was wrong; she felt it, but didn't know quite what it was.
"Mulder," she began, "when you were a little kid, and it started to storm, what did you do?"
"I rolled over and went back to sleep," he replied, groggily.
"You mean, you didn't run into your parents bedroom?"
"I did once, but it was only to throw the bogey man off my trail. Why? Are you suggesting that David might come bursting in here? Scully, he's twelve! He doesn't want to climb into bed with anyone." He paused, thinking about what he had said. "Well, you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she replied. "It's just that…" She was interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door. "Quick! Mulder! Hide the sleeping bag!" she hissed.
Mulder swore as he banged his shin against the nightstand. Scully, meanwhile, jumped out of bed and sprinted for the door. Looking back, she saw her partner in her place, the sleeping bag hidden underneath the bed. Pushing her hair back, she opened the door. On the other side stood David, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, his dark hair messed up. She tried to smile as sweetly as possible. "Yes, David?"
"I really hate to bother you …but I was wondering where you kept the extra toilet paper. The roll's empty, and it's kind of an emergency," he said as though he could see as much humor in it as Mulder did.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and as she left his view, Mulder laughed.