TITLE: Only Apples

AUTHOR: Kelly Keil

EMAIL: klkeil@ameritech.net

WEBSITE: http://grapefruithead.com/kellyfic

ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just keep my info attached.

FEEDBACK: Is the fruit in my pie. Please tell me
what you think.

RATING: PG

CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. You know who does.
I just took them on an outing.

SUMMARY: Spend an autumn afternoon with Mulder and
Scully.

NOTES: At the end.

_________________________

Only Apples
By Kelly Keil


"Dress casual," he advises over the phone, "and wear
sturdy shoes."

"Where are we going?" she asks, knowing full well he
won't tell her. She hears the suppressed excitement
in his voice.

"You'll see," is all he'll say. "Get ready. I'll be
there in a half hour."

When he picks her up, she asks again about their
destination but he remains mute. With resignation
she joins him in the car, prepared for a long journey.

Mulder drives the car further and further from
civilization, whistling tunelessly through his teeth.
Scully sits beside him, thinking how much she dislikes
surprises. Neither speaks.

As the miles fly by, she fingers her old flannel shirt
and stares down at her worn boots. Brilliant red and
gold trees flash by her window and geese fly south for
winter against a vivid blue sky.

* * *

"An orchard and cider mill?" Scully asks. She pictures
severed limbs peeking out of apple mash. Thrusting
away the image, she summons derision. "Is it haunted?"

Mulder looks at her, clearly puzzled. "Not that I
know of. I suppose we could ask." Comprehension dawns
on his face. "You don't know why we're here, do you?"
He begins chuckling as he walks away from the car toward
a small market that adjoins the weather-beaten barn.

Annoyed that Mulder knows something that she does not,
Scully turns her gaze toward the apple trees. Their
branches are hobbled and bent over in painful angles
under the weight of their apples. Unbidden, a vision
of blood sacrifice to the hungry trees' roots floats
before her. She shakes her head with impatience and
follows Mulder into the market.

"So what are we here for?" she asks Mulder as he
approaches her.

"Isn't it obvious? To pick apples." He twirls the
basket in his hands. "Are you ready?" He begins to
walk toward the orchard.

Scully stands where she is. "But..." Of all the
scenarios she's pictured, this isn't one of them.
"But...why?"

"You like apples, don't you?" he says.

"You can buy apples anywhere," she says. "Mulder,
I don't understand. I thought..." she almost mentions
her earlier grisly ruminations but stops herself in
time. "I don't have time to pick apples."

Mulder takes the basket in one hand and holds the other
out toward her. A winning smile graces his lips. "Come
on, Scully. What are you afraid of? They're only
apples."

Scully is rooted by indecision. There are a hundred
things she should be doing. The minutia of her daily
life call for her attention, but Mulder is still holding
his hand out to her. How long before he lets it fall
to his side? How long until his eyes cloud over and
his mischievous smile fades?

Scully reaches out for Mulder's hand. They're only
apples.

* * *

Mulder shines an apple on his shirt until its skin
glows deep garnet. He takes a deep bite and chews
thoughtfully. "Empire," he says, offering Scully a
bite then throwing it over his shoulder. The taste
is sweet and crisp, "A pretty decent eating apple,"
he remarks.

They walk to another tree and repeat the ritual. The
flavor of this apple is very tart. "Jonathan," he
informs her. "Good for baking. Not bad eating,
either, as long as you like 'em sour."

They carry the basket between them, Scully's end dipping
much closer to the ground. What she knows of apples
would barely cover the bottom of their bushel. Sir
Isaac Newton discovered gravity when one fell on his
head. Johnny Appleseed planted orchards across America.
Eve was damned for plucking one. Just useless fairy
tales.

Around them is the buzz of bees and the sweet yet sour
smell of fallen apples. Close by is the burble of a
small brook edged with tall grass and blackberry
brambles. Children are daring each other to hop the
creek while their parents pick Golden Delicious apples
that will later be packed into school lunches.

It suddenly occurs to her that this is what life ought
to be: simple beads of peace and contentment on a
string. She has been twisted in on herself, like the
branches of the apple trees, weighed down by the
burdens she bears. She has been looking down at the
ground, seeing only dirt and decay.

"Isn't this a beauty?" Mulder asks.

Scully cranes her neck to see his upturned face as he
picks a likely apple. She realizes this is the first
time in months, maybe years, that she has looked at the
world around her and seen its splendor

"Yes," she agrees. "It is."

* * *

There are no ladders in sight and all the good apples
within easy reach have been plucked. Mulder ducks
under low lying branches and begins to climb a tree.
Scully follows him, meaning to admonish him to be
careful, but forgets what she was about to say under
the shelter of the green branches.

Under here is only cool shade, the grotesque bend of
tree limbs hidden from her view. She looks up at
Mulder in his precarious perch and sees deep blue sky,
jewel-green leaves, and apples hanging around them like
fat drops of sin. She sees how beautiful he is, not
for any perfection of form or face, but because he is
so dear to her.

She wants him and this life he has given her a
tantalizing glimpse of. This is how it should be, she
thinks, picking apples and buying groceries and paying
off mortgages.

She catches the apples he drops and carefully places
them in the basket.

"Why the long face? Are you okay down there?" he asks.

She is quiet for a few moments more then allows herself
to speak. "I've been thinking, Mulder."

He begins to climb down the tree. "Dangerous, Scully.
Thinking, that is." He is teasing her and she feels a
stab of impatience. This is serious. This is important.

"I've been thinking how nice this day was -- "

"You're welcome."

" -- and how alien it feels to me." She had been
expecting a crime scene, not apples. Somehow she
feels it should be the other way around.

His feet hit the soft ground with a dull thump, then
he walks over to her. He lifts her chin so that she
is forced to look into his eyes. "I wanted to come
here to remind both of us that life is more than the
work and ugliness we see every day. There is a world
beyond all that I sometimes miss." He draws away
from her then takes an apple from their basket and
bites into it. "This is what we're fighting for."

She smiles at him. "Apples?"

"You know what I mean. Sometimes I need to be reminded.
I thought you might, too."

Scully grabs the apple from him and takes a bite of her
own. "Thank you," she says, her mouth full of
sweetness. She is still holding the apple in her hand
when he bends his head to kiss her. He tastes like the
fruit hanging all around them. He takes his time, as
if the world wasn't in danger of ever ending, tasting
her and drinking her in. He kisses her like a man who
has the time to drive over fifty miles to pick apples
when they can be bought at the local grocery store.

He kisses her like a man who is in love.

"There are things worth fighting for," he murmurs as he
pulls back from her. His half lidded eyes seem to say,
Come on, Scully. What are you afraid of? They're only
kisses.

Again he waits for her to decide.

She pulls his face down to hers. "This is worth fighting
for," she says.

* * *

Above them the sky darkens from cobalt to purple, stars
begin to appear, and a round orange moon hangs near the
horizon.

At home cocoa will be drunk, bills will be paid, and
apple crisp will be baked. Life will cycle on, but she
will remember, with each bite of apple she eats, the
color of the sky, the smell of ripe fruit, and the taste
of Mulder's kiss.

These are the things that really matter.


End
________________________

Notes: I owe many thanks to my various lovely and
talented betas: Livia Babalan, Maria Nicole, Jess,
Cofax, JHJ Armstrong, Sabine, and Punk Maneuverability.
Cofax, thanks for the astronomy lesson. Sab and Punk:
it hurt, but it was worth it. You made it better.
Thank you. As always, my heart belongs to Yes, Virginia.
This story is for Token, who was the inspiration.

General comments and feedback are welcome at
klkeil@ameritech.net.