Title: A Man Who…: Tears Shed
Author: DC Luder
Disclaimer: FM, DS, MS, WS belong to them crazy CC and Co. out in LA.
Summary: Dave's POV on his marriage to Scully and the sudden arrival of their "guest"
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Dana and I had a fight last night. Not a huge brawl, nor were there cusses and flying cast iron pans. We had simply disagreed about Will. I had wanted him to go to school today while she felt that he needed another day of rest. Considering her medical background, I'm sure she had her reasons, but Will was six, and needed to realize school was important.
More important than a day off with Mom, cinnamon buns and cartoons.
However harsh, I had not yelled at her last night. We planted our feet, spoke sternly and then agreed to disagree. The thing about our marriage was that we had never truly allowed ourselves to argue, especially with Will in earshot. Dana told me that her parents had rarely argued, especially when the "Captain" was home. My parents had rarely done so either, so perhaps our peace is the result of such good breeding.
When we first met, she was eight months pregnant and had come in to the ER with false labor symptoms. I had been the attending physician at the time and had nothing better to do, so I had seen her.
Then a week later, I had dropped by her house with Chinese.
Three weeks after that, she had given birth in my hospital to a gorgeous dark haired boy with big silver-blue eyes.
And not even three months after that, we were engaged.
I haven't really thought of Will not being my son. He was indeed sired by another man, but the child knew that I was his father. It wasn't the other man who taught him how to spell or ride a bike or how to clean a fish tank. Where was the coward that left Dana, alone and pregnant with an unknown future? I had vowed if the day ever came that I would meet him, I would beat him within an inch of his life and then demand to know how he could have possibly hurt her in such a way.
When I had first moved in, I could remember hearing her cry in the shower. She would never mention anything about, and I would never press the issue. We were great together, and there was no reason for me to ruin it by burdening her with the past.
But we weren't Rob and Laura Petrie, happy couple of the century.
Our arguments were never about anything important, like the Will thing. It would be silly, like I would have to work the weekend her mother's birthday was or she couldn't go to Thanksgiving with me to my parents in Vermont because of her work. Married doctors and their busy schedules rarely coexist well. But we made it work. For Will.
For us.
No matter what got in our way, we would overcome it and look back with a smile.
But lately, she had seemed distant. I had asked her three days ago at breakfast if she was all right. She had nodded sadly over her Grape Nuts, "Fine." I knew something had been bothering her, but without being too obvious, I studied her and found little that was "fine."
She had dipped a bit in eating, and since she never really ate to begin with, it was a bit troubling. She seemed a bit depressed, nothing clinical or suicidal, but still glum. In bed at night, she would roll away from me and silently cry to herself. If I touched her arm to comfort her, she would shiver and shake her head, "No, Dave."
And the worst of all, after three years, she came out of the shower with red eyes.
Had he called her out of the blue?
Visited her at work?
If he had, he was surely a dead man for intruding upon my wife's happiness. She no longer needed to be tormented by him. He just needed to accept that he had made a mistake and now he must face the consequences. And my fists.
I sat in the den, finishing a lecture outline for an upcoming seminar for interns while she sat out on the porch. In the summer we, would sit side-by-side and sip cold beer as our eyes took in the glorious sunset. It was a quiet place where we could forget about work and bills and the future of our son and just be ourselves.
But there was no way I was going to sit out there in the freezing November winds.
As my fingers finished typing the outline, she entered the room, her face red but a smile on her lips. She seemed happier, at peace. She sat across from me and after she had folding the thick blanket, I asked, "Hey, Dana. Why did you go outside?"
Her smile lessened a fraction, "I needed some quiet time."
I frowned and looked up from my work, "In thirty-seven degree weather?" I asked while removing my glasses. I saved my document, closed the computer and then ran my hand through my short bristly hair. I then rubbed the bridge of my nose and looked at my wife.
"Yes, in thirty-seven degree whether. The blanket and cider prevented hypothermia, so don't worry."
A smile replaced my frown as I got up and sat with her. My arms circled her body and drew her near to me. "Dana, is something wrong?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"You seem... Detached somehow. Is it work?" She had been putting in quite a few hours lately, keeping her mind off of other things?
"No, just thinking about Mom," I lied.
That sparked a thought, of my call from Maggie a few hours earlier, "Yeah, I think we should go visit her this weekend. Check out her new boyfriend."
"Mom doesn't have a boyfriend..." she smirked at me and reclined against my chest.
"She told me this afternoon. Seeing a man you know... What was his name...?"
"Describe him."
I paused, recalling Maggie's soft voice and rich laughter, "Well, she said he was tall, a little younger than her, he served in the war... Walter maybe?"
"Walter Skinner?" Dana said, her voice rigid and stunned.
"Yeah, that's him, Walter Skinner. She said you used to work for him when you lived in DC," I replied, the name now registering. Assistant Director Walter Skinner. After a moment, I asked, "So, do you want to?" and caressed her cool cheek.
"Want to what?"
"Go see Mom and Walter."
She didn't reply, or even seem to acknowledge my words, her mind once again drifting elsewhere, "Well?"
"Um... Uh, I'll call Mom and see."
She glanced at me quickly before heading for the phone. Just as she was out of eyesight, I rose to follow her, excited to see her so lifted in spirits. Before I even left the room, the doorbell rang and she answered it. I continued, curious to see our late night visitor.
But when I saw the leather coat and flowers and handsome face, I felt the molten stone of anger settle in my stomach.
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"I made this!"
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