Chapter 5 - Umbrella

Fox Mulder was standing on his porch, scrutinizing the sky. For once, he wouldn't sit and think, watching the sun setting. All he could see were dark clouds, already spilling small droplets on the yard.

Lowering his sight, he thought of watching the end of the alley for a while, of watching for Scully's arrival. They were hanging out tonight -new habits settling step by step- and he was already impatient to see her, to feel her by his side, and to share a lovely moment in a casual place.

But it was way too early for her arrival and meanwhile he would have to tame his restlessness.

Seeing glimpses of the gate at the end of the alley, he pictured the hidden mailbox close by. For how long hadn't the content of the box been checked? Not that he was waiting for something interesting in it. Yet, it would be a pleasurable distraction, quietly walking there, checking the mailbox, opening the gate, observing the road, then strolling back to the house. All the way letting his thoughts follow the gentle pace of his legs.

Having made his mind, Mulder climbed down the few stairs of the porch and stepped into the wet grass. After a few paces, he thought better than becoming soaked by the rain that was now getting bolder, as to discourage his resolution. The clouds were maybe believing that they could play with him or try his will. If so, how ignorant they were of his magic shield against sudden pours.

He turned around and quickly came back to the entrance door. From there, without really stepping into the house and thanks to his long limbs, he managed to pick up one of the umbrellas from the holder. Fate would say whether he had chosen a not so damaged one.

Resuming his stroll under the frail shelter made of waterproof fabric, Mulder laughed at the clouds that had once again increased the release of their waters. And then, harassed by the drops hitting hard the tissue, he let his thoughts follow the rhythm of his tranquil footsteps.

The zealous drips reminded him of unexpected toads falling from the sky without opening their parachutes. How good had he been at these times, remaining stone-faced in front of Scully in such odd situations, quietly bantering about witcheries or spooky events.

Somehow, holding the handle of his umbrella and standing by Scully's side -as close as could allow their two canopies bumping into each other- had been such a comfort place, such a way to build their own shelter amidst weirdness or stranger cops, that he could have faced all the storms surrounding them without batting an eye.

When Mulder was younger -working in the Violent Crimes Unit or being in charge of the X-Files on his own- he was sparsely using umbrellas. Then, Scully had rejoined him in the basement and -like a lot of things that had changed in his life since this event- Mulder became more acquainted with the handling of this object. After their first soaking experiences due to severe downfalls in the middle of the country, Scully had indeed soon brought and put umbrellas in their cars -rental or not. She then became the one among the two of them who would be in charge of this accessory -in charge of these little extras that were really much-needed, as it always seemed that the weather would play with them when they were on the field, their feet stuck in muddy soils.

And this is how even more enjoyable moments had followed.

For gradually, by chance, because of circumstances, due to laziness or omission, as a consequence of conscious and unconscious actions, or simply on purpose, they happened to share one single umbrella -for a minute, a little walk, an hour or whatever length of time that always was labeled as nine minutes for Mulder.

Sharing an umbrella could appear to be a mere little thing, an insignificant happenstance in a mundane life that frequently brought them outdoors, or, even, an uncomfortable little thing when they were surrounded by fierceful elements.

But, for Mulder, strolling under a simple umbrella had always felt better when shared.

Shared with Scully.

He wouldn't even know how to start describing the sensations he was feeling when they were sharing an umbrella. Of course, it was -it had been- all depending on the whens, hows, whys.

Would it be in the early stage of their relationship? Mulder would have been still astonished to catch a whiff of Scully's hair, his nose hovering over her head. Would it be when they were about to indulge in the love they could no longer deny? The thoughts of ineluctable intimacy triggered by their closeness would have made him shiver, bend down his head even more and get his body closer than ever to hers. And there had been all the in-betweens, all the afters, and there would be all the future ones.

Lost in the sweet remembrances of the different moments he and Scully had shared under an umbrella -some melting with other ones- Mulder arrived at the gate.

He pushed the gate wide open, checked his mailbox -discovering a couple of uninteresting letters waiting for a few days- then walked back and forth on the side of the road; he couldn't make up his mind to already turn back home. The clouds hadn't lessened their flows, and Mulder's pants and shoes -sticking and soaked through- had begun to complain in their own ways. Mulder didn't let them outfox his good mood, flooded by warm memories of the past.

Finally, having exhausted the relative charm of the quiet road, Mulder turned back.

He had walked forwards a few meters into his yard when the clouds made another assault upon him, hitting him and its umbrella harder, and now helped by a gust of wind that made the umbrella ribs whine alarmingly. This desperate offensive failed to discourage Mulder's good spirit and to cover a familiar sound growing in his back -a sound Mulder would sense over any deflagration.

As Mulder stopped walking and turned around with a big smile on his face, the front of Scully's car was passing through the open gate.

Mulder waved to Scully, and, with a few mute gestures, he invited her to continue her way toward the house; he wouldn't get in her car if she came to a halt to pick him up. Scully might have understood his message as she slowly overtook him. Watching her passing by, a blurry silhouette behind the foggy windows, Mulder was already enjoying the next few minutes of anticipation to come; he would languidly walk along the long path and then, as a reward, join her on the dry porch.

Yet, it didn't happen the way he thought.

All occurred quickly. The car halted, Scully jumping out of it, then running to Mulder. In less than a few seconds, Scully was under Mulder's umbrella, her body clinging to his, her left arms gripping his waist.

"Wow, Scully," Mulder said. "I'm soaked and you'll be soaked in a wink if you stay with me. Get back to your car!"

"I'm fine. I want to walk with you," Scully replied.

"You sure? Because the weather is very tricky and naughty today."

"Try me!" Scully shouted out loud to the sky.

On this bravado, Mulder and Scully stepped forward, walking smoothly towards the unremarkable house. For a little while, they remained untroubled by the surprisingly quieter clouds -these last were indeed plotting their next move against the two defiant humans.

Then, facing a sudden violent attack of whirlwind and hail, the already weakened umbrella broke its right side, while Mulder and Scully stopped, fiercely trying to clutch each other. Scully was holding Mulder's body as tightly as she could, whereas Mulder, his two hands gripping the letters and the umbrella handling, was struggling using his arms to efficiently wrap Scully and protect her against the elements.

"Scully, I warned you!" Mulder cried over the noise.

But Scully was laughing into Mulder's chest, laughing so hard that it seemed nothing would stop her.

"Scully?" Mulder asked softly into her ear.

As an answer, Scully grabbed Mulder's head with her two hands, lowered it and kissed his lips.

"Fuck the weather, Mulder," she said on his mouth.

And then, they stayed for a while under the spoiled umbrella, hugging, caressing, whispering and kissing, until the clouds gave up annoying them.

This is how Mulder felt better under a shared umbrella -shared with Scully.

This is how he felt so blessed to be soaked and wet -unable now to differentiate the origin of the moist on his face. To be both cold and warm -so hot inside, his feet freezing. To be filled by sounds and whispers -her sweet words, the tap-tap of raindrops, the whistles of the wind. To be invaded by so many melted odors -the soil, the grass, the earth, the air, the rain, her hair, their saliva, their tears, their skin, their sweat, their perfume... he could go on endlessly.

Mulder had never felt better and he would have another nine minutes moment to add to his list, another shared umbrella memory to keep safe, and he would have to thank forever the Gods of Clouds, Rain and Wind that had been his unexpected and devoted allies.