Childish Ways by Nynaeve e-mail: mtknigh@ibm.net Rating: PG Category: V Spoilers: Season Six, through "Arcadia" Keywords: Scully angst, MSR/RST (sort of) Summary: Scully's feelings about that ring in "Arcadia" and some resolutions of past events. Disclaimer: Yes, I know, they belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and a bunch of other legal entities. I am returning them, for the time being anyway. No Mulders or Scullys were harmed in the writing of this story. Archive Statement: Anywhere, just let me know so I can visit. 'When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love' --- I Corinthians 13: 11-13 Heavy. Binding. Complicated. As a child you never see a wedding ring as those things. Happy. Secure. Simple. That's what you see. That's what you want. It all seems so easy. When she was a senior in high school, Melissa dated the captain of the basketball team. I remember the day she came home, eyes glittering, rapt smile curling her lips, triumph pouring out of her in nearly palpable waves because he had given her his class ring to wear. I was jealous. Her girl friends were jealous. Bill was uneasy. It wasn't that Missy read much into his bestowing that ring on her. She didn't assume it meant he would marry her, or even date her once she went to college, or my father was transferred again, whichever happened first. She never even expressed an interest in a long term relationship with him. It was the *status* his ring gave her. She couldn't even wear it on any of her fingers, having to wear it on a chain around her neck, but everyone knew she had it, that Robby Beck had given Melissa Scully his class ring and they were a *couple*. And in high school, especially if you were as popular as Missy was, being a couple was a great pinnacle to which you aspired. She was happy being with Robby for whatever it was worth. She was secure of her place in that insular little world. It was all as simple as having his ring on a chain around her neck. I won't say it became my goal to wear some guy's class ring, but I knew I wasn't likely to turn an offer down. Marcus and I started dating during our senior year. We'd been friends for almost as long as I'd been at that particular school, so I can't say exactly when it was we entered into something else, something more than friendship. I enjoyed dating Marcus. He was handsome, intelligent, and kind. And safe. I bet he's a stockbroker now, or a dentist. Whatever he does, I'm sure it's safe. Marcus offered up his class ring for my wearing enjoyment in March of that year. I accepted it, suddenly shy and unsure of myself with him. It was the first time I really had an inkling that maybe rings aren't as simple as they appear to be, to a child. We were, of course, viewed as a *couple*. I vaguely enjoyed the new and different looks I got from classmates, as we walked the halls. I also knew, by then, how transient this was likely to be. I ached in a small way that, for all the *status* this ring represented, it had changed nothing between Marcus and me. We were no closer emotionally; I felt unchanged about him. I doubted I'd see much of him after graduation. I don't even think it was so much that I wanted to be with him for the long haul; after all, we both had goals to fulfill. It was just another realization: rings don't always mean security. Marcus and I parted well. We were young and it was mutual. We had enjoyed each other's company. We had fun together, even when the fire department had to get involved. But we didn't love each other, not really. I gave him back his ring. I never missed it. In fact, I recall that as I handed it back to him, the sun shone through the band and a stray thought traced its path across my mind, "It's hollow." It made me sad. Rings don't always bring happiness. It would be a long while before I truly got involved with anyone again. Involved long enough and deeply enough to think about exchanging tokens that denoted our couple status, that is. I gave Jack Willis a watch, celebrating our mutual birthday and commemorating our relationship. He gave me a Claddagh ring. It was beautiful, the detail work exquisite. The tiny hands which clasp the heart, surmounted by a crown - all rendered in minute detail. The Claddagh an Irish ring which can symbolize many facets of a relationship. Worn on the right ring finger, with the crown pointing down it implies the bond of friendship between the giver and the wearer. Worn on the right ring finger, with the crown pointing up, it implies love. Worn on the left ring finger, crown down, it tells the astute observer that the giver and the wearer are engaged. Worn on the same finger, crown up, that these two people are wed. I wore Jack's ring on my right finger, crown up or down, depending on how I'd grabbed it in the morning. That ring meant a lot to me. I still have it and I take it out and look at it every now and again. The silver has begun to tarnish and the detail work is partially hidden. I haven't bothered to clean it. There's no need. Besides, I like the way it symbolizes my life in these years with Mulder. The details have become obscured. They're still there, it's just harder to find them. The metal is still beautiful underneath the coat of tarnish it wears, but somehow that ring looks lonely, cast out. Complicated. It meant more than Marcus' class ring because I had more feelings for Jack. The day he gave me that ring, I felt truly special. Whenever it caught my eye it was a reminder of how he felt about me. He gave it to me, not for extrinsic reasons , not to visibly 'go steady' with someone, but because he cared for me. Still, I waited for the feelings I had perceived in my childhood as coming with the wearing of someone's ring, to come to me. They didn't, not really. True, I felt happy, but at the same time, I felt I had to give more. The relationship began to weigh on me. If I felt secure in his feelings for me, I also felt bound by them. I owed him something. The simplicity I had seen in my parents' marriage was lacking. Our remained a complicated affair; his being my instructor and my being his student. I longed for the vision of my childhood, but the adult I had become knew it was time to leave that vision behind. I always thought I wanted to get married and have children, some day. Then I was assigned to Mulder. My life changed and my work became all consuming. I realized, as I wove my own soul deeper and deeper into the fabric of his quest, that those things were unlikely for me. Then I learned last year that I will never bear children, even if I want to. That caused me to question myself, where I was, how I'd gotten there, and where I was going. In the end, my answers always came back to our quest, to Mulder, to determining what had been done to me, by whom, and why. After Antarctica, when Mulder told me to "go be a doctor" ,I refused. In that moment, I left behind all those childish visions. They lay in a shattered heap of make-believe gold and faceted diamonds, on the steps near the Reflecting Pool. Doubting that I would ever wear any man's ring on my finger, I took Mulder's hand in my own. The fit was perfect. His presence, our work together, enveloped me, like a golden band no one could see and I alone could feel. The stone in the band, for me, was Mulder's faith and trust in me. It was all the ring I ever needed. That ended one day in February. The gold was too malleable, the stone flawed. The ring surrounding us twisted, warped, and slipped from us. The diamond lost its luster, turned out to be a fake after all. I had nothing left but a hollow quest for answers that would change nothing. I resolved to myself that I would make it work, that I would find a way around his lack of trust in me. We had once been nothing more than FBI partners and I vowed I would recapture that feeling. Then Skinner sent us to the Falls at Arcadia. Posing as a married couple, a happily married couple, a couple named after one of TV's all time happiest couples, no less. I told Mulder that next time I get to choose the names and I meant it. I'd choose a couple less happy, with problems even. Stephen and Tabitha. Peter and Harriet. Henry and June. Yes, that's better, more fitting. A couple who writes horror stories. Mulder and I could top them. A fictional pair of detectives. He was always cracking jokes and she was tried for murder once. Oh, and she often ignored his jokes. Or a writer, scorned for his unconventional lifestyle, and his 'devoted' wife. Actually, let's face it, Henry and June would be perfect. We could include Diana, if we could find her, and she could be Anais. I can't hear Mulder objecting to a menage a trois. As part of the cover, Skinner reminded us to wear wedding rings. "Sir?" I asked, "Can't I be extremely modern and not wear one?" "Spoil sport," Mulder whined. Skinner glared at both of us. (All was right with the world!) "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but this is a *very* traditional little community. I think it's best you appear as traditional as possible." I nodded. I left Skinner's office ahead of Mulder, hoping to catch the elevator and avoid any remarks he might choose to make. Damn Mulder and his long legs! He was at my side, hand in the small of my back, guiding me gently toward the elevator in a few short strides. Damn me and my short legs! "Hey, Scully, I'll be happy to go down and pick out something for you. I mean, isn't the man supposed to choose the ring and surprise his intended with it?" We were alone in the hallway, thankfully. Anyone privy to that conversation would have assumed the whole 'Mrs. Spooky' thing was about to go to the next level. "I don't know, Mulder," I said in an irritated tone, "I've never been anyone's intended." He looked at me strangely. I think he was slightly hurt. "Aw, Scully, come on...." "Thank you, Mulder, but no," I interrupted. "I'll go to evidence myself and find something. You wouldn't even know what size to pick, or what would look good on my finger." "Size 5," he said softly. "You have slender fingers. Not something too elaborate or it would overwhelm your hand." It was my turn to look bemused. How he knew my ring size I did not even want to guess. As for the other, did it mean he'd given the subject some thought? I tried not to care about that. "Would *you* like *me* to get something for you while I'm there?" I offered. He declined, saying he'd take care of it later. I stepped on to the elevator, heading up to evidence. He waited for an elevator going down. I pondered *that* as another metaphor for our relationship, especially lately. Always heading in opposite directions. Moving through our days mechanically. I had to stop. It was depressing. Mulder was right about one thing; I *do* have slender fingers. Evidence didn't have much in the way of options for me, not when it came to wedding bands. I'd been hoping for something simple, easy to ignore, even. Slip it on my finger and forget about it. Simple didn't turn out to be one of my choices. I picked what I hoped was the least gaudy of my three choices: a marquis cut solitaire engagement ring, jacketed by a wedding bad set all around with small, brilliant cut diamonds. It didn't overwhelm my hand. It *was* a beautiful ring. I wasn't looking for a beautiful ring, though. I had wanted functional, like the relationship I was desperately trying to re-establish with Mulder. Functional, simple, nothing more and nothing less. Mulder was reading the case file on the missing couples when I got back. He looked up at me when I entered our tiny, dark basement office. His voice was quite neutral as he asked, "Find a ring you liked, Scully?" "It's not a matter of what I like, Mulder. It's a matter of what fit and was appropriate." I realized how defensive I sounded. Lines from "Hamlet" were crying a warning through my brain, "Methinks the lady doth protest too much." I tried to find a different tone, softer. "But, to answer your question, yes, I found something that will work." Why couldn't I say the word 'ring'? Had Mulder noticed that? Damn it. He stood up. "Let's see," he prompted. I think I blushed slightly. I know I ducked my head a little, trying to suppress a small, foolish grin. "It's not important, Mulder." He smiled at me, that lovely one, the one that comes straight from his heart. Or at least I used to believe it did. "Don't you think I should at least get to see 'my wife's' wedding ring?" Defeated and wordless, I handed him the envelope with the ring in it. He opened the flap and shook the ring out into his palm. He whistled softly, holding the ring up, turning it in the light, so that sparks seemed to light and dance off its faceted surfaces. "Beautiful, Scully." I caught my breath, not registering at first the ever so slight pause between his words. His compliments were for the ring, not me. Which is exactly what I wanted anyway. We were just partners, partners in crime-fighting, nothing more. Complicated. I held out my hand, silently asking for the ring back. I realized I should probably wear it for a while before we arrived at our assignment or I would be likely to bang it into things and catch it on others often. I wasn't worried about the ring, but it would send a signal to any observant individual that I was unaccustomed to the ring. I didn't want to raise any suspicions. To my surprise, Mulder turned my hand over and lifted up my ring finger. Realizing what he was about to do, I tried to jerk my hand from his grasp, but he held me too firmly. "Hold still, Scully. You know, you should wear this now, get used to it. Otherwise, you might hit and catch it and that might give away the fact that you're not used to wearing a ring. We don't want to raise any suspicions, do we?" I shook my head dumbly as a violent blush climbed my cheeks. I watched, fascinated, unable to stop myself, as Mulder slipped that ring on my finger. Mulder. Ring. I reminded myself sternly that this was not real, this was for a case. He was only my FBI partner. Still I gasped when the cool metal slid its way over my finger. The flesh cooled by the metal was disconcertingly reheated by Mulder's hand as he gently pushed the band all the way down, until it rested securely at the base of my finger. His finger tips brushed the top of my hand lightly. I inhaled sharply, cursed myself silently for that, and tugged my hand out of his persistent grasp. "It's perfect for you, Scully," he said, as softly as he had recited my ring size to me. I turned away from him, unable to respond. He had broken the invisible ring that held us together. He had trusted Diana more than me. He had hurt me with words and deeds. I *needed* that bond to remain broken. I could not have given my life to this man. I tried so hard to believe I had not, yet every emotion, every slight physical reaction that had coursed through me during that ridiculous, pointless little 'ceremony' proved me wrong. I was still bound to him. I had not imagined this ring could weigh so much. Heavy. Binding. Complicated. I mumbled an excuse about packing and left early. Mulder called after me that he would pick me up at 5:30 the next morning for our flight. My voice almost sounded normal to me when I called back, "Fine." When I reached my apartment, I sat for a long while, staring at this ring I found myself wearing. I could not stop my mind from playing back for me the images of Mulder placing it on my finger, the sensations coursing through me as he did. Mulder may say he has a photographic memory, but mine isn't too bad either. (Who forgot he had the Oxford Psychology degree, after all?) I stared at the ring, witnessing it all again, as if from outside my own body. He'd been so close, so soft. I could still smell his scent on my clothing, feel the delicate sweep of his fingers as they trailed across the hand. The smile on his face had been full of muted emotion. I thought I could detect joy there and too, a deep sadness. I had to remind myself that I no longer knew this man, no longer understood him as I once thought I had. I could see and grasp only dim facets of him. I wondered if I would ever understand him completely. Not that I wanted to, I mentally amended. We were, after all, nothing more than partners, colleagues at work. Afternoon sun glinted off the clear, lustrous diamond. I allowed myself to drift into a world I visited rarely. My adult world, as little Dana Scully had envisioned it so many years ago. I saw Mulder at an altar, smiling happily at me, as I glided toward him, swathed in white, secure on my father's arm. I saw his face in a hospital room, his eyes drawn inexorably toward the small figure in his arms. His smile beautiful and peaceful as he contemplated our child. I saw myself, dressed in jeans and an old cotton shirt, sitting cross legged on the floor of an old, well-loved home, teaching our son his letters, while nearby on the couch our daughter slept in her carrier. I saw Mulder coming home, through the kitchen door, a dog jumping playfully at him, as he strode forward to kiss me while I made dinner. I saw the children tucked up safely and felt Mulder's hand slip into mine as he led me to our bedroom. As we made love, I saw the moonlight streaming in the window, catching the facets of this gorgeous ring he had placed on my finger long ago. Our love wrapped us, as securely and easily as the covers we tucked around our children every night. A tear trickled down my cheek, chilling my face as it caressed its curves. The details of that life were not the details of mine. I had accepted that long ago, but never knew exactly how much I had depended on that feeling of love, until it was gone. That feeling was the one true thing; the one thing I had right, even as a child. Mulder did not trust me unconditionally. I could not explain why he didn't. I could not bring myself to ask him. And without an explanation, without compelling reasons to explain his actions, I could not love him, no matter how my soul might cry out at that, protest against the injustice I perpetrated against it. So, I fought him. I fought myself. I fought the feeling of this ring on my finger. Throughout our stay at The Falls at Arcadia, I fought against him, against myself. I pushed him away as hard as I could. I studiously ignored the simple gold band he wore on the third finger of his left hand. "Hey, Scully," he'd said in the car, driving up to the Falls, "Do you know my wedding rings on worn on the third finger of the left hand?" "No, Mulder, I don't," I had said. My voice already exhausted. "People used to believe it was in a direct line with your heart and that by placing a ring on that finger you bound the heart." "Fascinating," I told him, sounding bored. Ring or not, he had bound my heart long before. But I was ignoring that. Heavy. Binding. Complicated. How can it be anything else for Mulder and me? We got through our case, both surviving encounters with the fertilizer beast, as I think of it. Mulder insists on calling it by the correct Nepalese term. He says, deadpan whenever he says it, that Kersch is the fertilizer beast. I can't help but laugh at that one. We returned to D.C., back to cold weather and gray skies. Still, I prefer it. I no longer have to pretend to be something I'm not, and can never be: Mulder's wife. When I got in this morning, Mulder wasn't in the office. I had replaced the ring I borrowed in its envelope and was prepared to take it back to evidence. I saw the ring Mulder used lying on his desk. I looked at it, unsure of how long I stood there. "Scully?" I jumped a little. I had not even heard him come in. "What are you looking at?" he asked. Finding my voice, hoping and praying it would sound normal, I said, "I was wondering if you'd like me to return this for you when I take mine back." He shook his head. "It's mine," he stated after a while. I must have gone slack jawed. I sunk down on the edge of his desk. He walked over to me, positioning himself in front of me. "Yours?" I croaked. "Mine," he repeated. "You were ... ?" I couldn't even say it. I was at sea, utterly lost. I had known Mulder not at all. He nodded. "And you never told me?" I asked, tears threatening to creep into my voice. He looked down at the ground, then at me. "It was for such a short time and I was never really happy with her. Hardly anyone knows. I didn't see any point in telling you before ..." he stopped. I said nothing. He left unspoken whatever would have followed that 'before'. "And then, when it mattered, I found I couldn't tell you. I didn't know how. I didn't want to hurt you. I should have told you. It might have explained a lot to you." "A lot of...?" I started to ask the question and stopped. It was not possible. I refused to accept what my brain had concocted. "Scully, you were right about her. She's involved with CBG Spender. I don't know how deeply or for how long, but she is. But, when you presented me with your evidence, I couldn't believe that. I didn't want to." He looked at me, waiting for me to speak. I had nothing to say. He continued, "The marriage was a disaster from the beginning, but I could always chalk it up to being younger, being too involved in the work... something outside myself. If it failed because she wasn't to be trusted, it meant that I had made a fundamental error in judgment all those years ago. It would mean I could hardly trust myself. I didn't want to admit that, to face it." He took my hands in his. I was staring at the ground, fascinated by a coffee stain there. "Scully, look at me, please." I looked up at him. "I was afraid that if I started questioning my judgment about her, I'd start questioning my judgment about you. I was afraid I'd lose you and you are the only person in this whole world I could not stand to lose." "But, Mulder, you didn't trust me! You didn't have faith in my instincts!" I spit out at him "How can I..." He interrupted. "No, Scully. No. I didn't trust myself. I didn't have faith in *my* instincts." He raised on hand and placed it lightly on my cheek. "You, I trust with everything that I have and everything that I am. You are the best part of me. Never doubt that. I know I was an asshole and I know I should have apologized, but ... I didn't know how to explain it all." I felt my lips tremble as tears pricked at my eyes. The stone was only flawed, not a fake, and gold can be re-worked to its former shape. All I had to do to have that back was accept his apology. A thought occurred to me. "Mulder? If you had such a bad ... " I could not bring myself to say the word. "If it was bad, why did you keep this ring? Why did you wear it on this assignment?" He smiled bitterly. "I used to keep it to remind me what a mistake it had been, proof I'm not very good at picking women to get involved with. I wore it on this case to remind myself that I didn't pick the woman involved. She picked me, for reasons I don't understand, but I'm too afraid to question. She stays even when it costs her all she has and I could not live without her. I wanted to have better memories to associate with this ring." He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Mulder...." I whispered. "Scully, you make me happy, just by being with me. I know you believe in me, support me. I know the sacrifices you've made for me and I cannot believe how lucky I am. I am secure in the knowledge of your trust in me. Secure that you are the one person who will always defend me, even when I don't deserve it, because of that trust. It's as simple as that. The one simple thing in my life." I lifted my face to meet his and completed the kiss that we began so long ago in his hallway. We have traveled many roads since then, fought with and for each other, and nearly lost each other, again. Heavy? Yes, sometimes life with Mulder threatens to crush me. Binding? Absolutely. I could no more leave or betray this man than I could grow wings and fly. Complicated? Indubitably. We are both complicated people whose life experiences only add to that. But ... I make Mulder happy. He feels secure with me. He says our relationship is the only simple thing in his life. I may not have had all the details right, but as a child I did know that rings were happy, secure, simple things. Right now, that's true. And right now, it is enough.