TITLE: Detours AUTHOR: Dlynn RATING: PG CATEGORY: post episode story, UST, humor DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: xemplary, Spookys, gossamer, yes. Others, yes, but I'd like to know so I might visit :D FEEDBACK: dlynn1550@my-deja.com SPOILERS: This is a "missing" scene from Detour. SUMMARY: "Ok, Scully. You're the boss. How do you want to handle this? Want to hold hands, skipping into the forest to find a nice cozy port-o-potty." DISCLAIMERS: They're not mine. :) AUTHOR'S NOTES: This piece intersperses stream of conscious dreaming with real time dialogue. The dream sequences allbegin with ** and end with **. Hopefully, this will minimize confusion. I also begin and end the story with short snips of dialogue, taken from the episode "Detour". Acknowledgements: Thank you to Sabine, Paige Caldwell, and Carol Sue for their double-quick beta's. The rest of my stories can be found at my web site at http://home.mpinet.net/laster Detours by dlynn "I don't wanna wrestle." Suppressing a laugh, Scully said, "Get over here. I'm going to try and keep you warm." Mulder settled down across her lap, trying to get comfortable. She wrapped her arms around him, providing warmth to his injured body. "One of us has got to stay awake, Scully." "You sleep, Mulder." "If you get tired, you wake me." "I'm not going to get tired." "Scully, why don't you sing...something." "No. Mulder." "Well, if you sing something, I'll know you're awake." "Mulder, you don't want me to sing. I can't carry a tune." "It doesn't matter. Just sing anything." After a very long pause, Scully began singing, slightly off key and without a modicum of enthusiasm, "Jeremiah was a bullfrog. Mulder's eyes popped open in surprise. "...was a good friend of mine. Never understood a single word he said...but I helped him drink his wine. Scully paused, hoping that would be sufficient to get Mulder off her back. No such cigar. "Chorus," he mumbled. Resignedly, she began again. "Joy...to the world. All the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me. (Dialogue excerpted from "Detour", season five) xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ************ Mulder drifted off. Joy... Joyous... Joyful... Joyful, joyful, we adore thee, God of man and Lord of all... ...There's a joy in the journey. ...Joy, hmm. ...Joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart, YES! Down in my heart.. Dig that gospel selection tonight.We're rockin' the tabernacle...mm... Joy ..to... the world! No, not Three Dog Night, the symphonic, blow those trumpet, angels singing from on high, let's open up Heaven's gates, Christmas carol version... Joy Luck Club...Where'd that come from...Definitely, not a movie he'd watch. Joys of Babe-O-Rama! Now that's more like it. Luscious, lascivious, wanton, joyous nymphettes cavorting in joyous posit... Damn, he wanted to stay in that stream. Too bad his consciousness wouldn't cooperate...that's the problem with stream of conscious dreaming. It was like a bad acid trip. You never knew what came next... Hoo! Boy! Joy Kounanis! Joy Kounanis. She was Greek, but she wasn't a fish. At least he didn't think she was a fish... But, she drank like a fish... a Greek fish! A joyous Greek fish, who had been a friend of... what's her name... the English bimbo, the scourge of Scotland Yard, Phoebe Green. That should have been one strike against her, but she had actually been a delightful fish, with long blond hair and sparkling eyes. She was a rainbow trout swimmin' with a barracuda. Yeah, Joy Kounanis, the drinking, Greek fish...of the deep blue sea. ...a fish of the deep blue sea swallowed Jonah. until the Lord caused the fish to barf him up on the shore. Eeeeewh! Now there's an image. Fish vomit with man sized chunks. God, he was cold. He felt like he had been upchucked by some voracious fish on some God forsaken shoreline. At least he had landed on something soft. Soft and warm and inviting and... Scully? ************ "Hey, Mulder, you still with me," Scully murmured, pressing her lips against his forehead, checking his temperature. Forcing his eyes open, Mulder shifted within her arms, burying himself as deeply as he could into her comforting embrace. He was so cold. Scully was sooo warm. Even his fog soaked brain could wrap itself around that one. Cold gravitates to heat. Scully provided heat. Get thee, body, to Scully. "Scully, you wouldn't happen to have a root beer on you?" "Must have left it in my other jacket, Mulder. Along with matches, blankets, food, back-up, wine, cheese..." "... and sleeping bags?" he finished for her. "And, sleeping bags." "Hey, Scully, you didn't finish your song." "Yes, I did Mulder. I can't help it you slept through it," Scully said, looking around the forest. Every once in a while she was certain she saw glowing, pinpoints of red light. It gave her the creeps, the thought of something watching and waiting out in the darkness. "Well, be that as it may, Scully. I don't remember it, and I would really like to hear the next verse." "Then you sing it. I've finished my opening night in the Leon County woods. I've had owls and squirrels heckling me, Mulder. I think my vocal styling has even chased our elusive mothmen away." "It wasn't that bad, Scully. You're being too hard on yourself," Mulder said, trying to find his partner's eyes in the darkness. There was something in her voice, something lending itself to a note of seriousness to her jests. "Don't you like to sing, Scully?" Shifting her back against the log, rubbing a sore spot on her shoulder, she hesitated. In fact, she paused just long enough that Mulder grasped hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's not that I don't like to sing. It's just...I was never encouraged to sing." "Encouraged?" "Mulder, didn't you and Samantha ever go on road trips with your folks?" "You mean where everyone piled into the family station wagon, hitting every rest stop, tourist trap and gas station between points A and B?" "Yeah, family vacations. We did that a lot, when dad was home. God, it was a zoo. All six of us crammed into this station wagon. "One of those with the... uh...brown paneling on the side." "How did you know that, Mulder?" "We had one too. I think, during the 70's, every family with kids had one of those. The station wagon came home from the hospital with the new little bundle of joy. Probably had a dealership set up in the delivery room, "Congratulations, mam, it's a boy and a Chevy!" "Did your station wagon have the special pop-up seats in the back? You know, the ones that folded up and faced each other, one on each side of the car. Kind of a modern version of a rumble seat." "Can't say I remember that Scully," Mulder said, noting she was absently stroking his hair back from his forehead as she told her story. Soothing and gentle, if she kept that up, he'd be out again before she hit the punch line. "Well, then, you missed a treat, Mulder. We used to argue about who was going to get the 'way back' seats. Dad used to get so tired of it. he wanted to strangle the whole lot of us. I remember, once, he threatened to leave us all along some deserted highway." "I bet the Scully brood was a wild bunch." "Well, we were definitely boisterous. Missy had this habit of standing up in the seat behind the driver, grabbing onto the headrest and beebopping to the radio. Even, when it wasn't on, she was." "Hmm.. She was what?" Mulder asked, feeling himself sliding close to slumber once more. "She was on. Missy didn't need an actual radio. She made her own very special kind of music and she'd be happy dancin around the back seat, yanking on that headrest and driving dad around the bend." "From what you told me, I bet he ran a taunt ship. And, from what I remember of your sister, she didn't seem the type to submit too well to authority." "Nope, she didn't," Scully chuckled. "I remember once, after warning her at least a dozen times to sit down and quit bouncing around, dad threatened to stop the car and run her over." "What? You mean run her over with the car?" Mulder said, incredulously. "Remember, this was pre-seatbelt era. No restraints available. He wasn't serious... just tired and at his wits end. But, I didn't know that and when he pulled the car over to the side of the road, jumped out and yanked Missy out of the back, I thought she was a goner." Noting she was no longer petting him like a cat, Mulder missed her soothing caress. "So, what did you do? What did he do?" "Well, I was horrified...not really scared. I think I was more... angry, than anything else. I jumped out of that car and ran over to where he was talking quietly to Missy. I hauled off and smacked him right in the leg. I mean I really let him have it." "You're kidding! You mean you cold-cocked your dad?" "Hardly boxing form, I just walloped his thigh really good. Left a fairly good-sized bruise. Secretly, I think he was kind of pleased at how I stood up for Missy." "Uh..huh.. and publicly,..tanned your hide good, didn't he?" Mulder prodded. "Yep, Missy and I both got it. The boys thought it was hysterical to see us on the other end for a change. It wasn't often I got spanked. Usually, all you needed to do was give me a good talking to and I'd see the error of my ways." Realizing he wasn't long for moonlight, feeling the persistent tug of dreamstate, Mulder nudged her back on task. "What does this all have to do with your "love" of singing, Scully." Yanking the collar of her jacket more closely around her neck, Scully answered, "Oh, it's just that we used to sing on these road trips. Stupid, silly songs like... umm... "Found a Peanut and Mares Eat Oats." "Ah...Mairzey doats," Mulder said, breaking out in song with Scully. "Mairzey doats and dozey doats and liddle lamsey eadivey. A Kittle edivey, too, wouldn't you.oo. A kittle edivey, too wouldn't you." "One of the classics, Scully," Mulder chuckled, imagining Skinner's face if he could see Scully singing about lambs and ivy. It was priceless; Scully "unbuttoned." "Anyway, let's just say. people in that car were not clamoring for my Greatest Hits CD. If I heard, "Mom, tell Dana to stop singing, once; I heard it... well, let's say I heard it." "Ah, but Scully, that's a sibling kind of thing, use 'em and abuse 'em. If you can't hurt the ones you love, what's the point out of life," he grinned, rubbing her back where his arm rested. "Mulder, I know that. Let's just say my family, as annoying as they were, actually were my most enthusiastic fans. When you add in the glee club director, the church choir master and...assorted nuns, who swore they listened with God's ears, I realized quickly, I wasn't fated for Carnegie Hall." "Well, Scully, I'm honored you "caved", allowing me the rare privilege of hearing "Dana, The Live Concert." Stifling a yawn, Mulder continued, "If it's not too much trouble, I'd really like to hear the next verse." "Mulder." "Scully, I'm still worried about you following asleep. Lay it on me." "Which verse?" Scully inquired, sweeping her eyes through the darkness, once more watching for some invisible creature that had no compunction about attacking. It was unnaturally still, not at all like other times she'd camped in the woods. Nature was silent. Rustling sounds were limited to the breeze picking up in the tree canopy. Not even owls, with their plaintiff cries, disturbed the quiet. Mother Nature was on guard, there was a prowler in her midst and she was protecting her own. But, what would protect she and Mulder. "Guess, Scully. You know what I like." No contest on that one, she thought, tightening her grip around his shoulders. She rubbed his arms in time with the music, stimulating what small amount of warmth she could. At least he wasn't feverish, she thought as she sang softly. "If I were the king... of the world. Tell you what I'd do. I'd throw away the cars ... The bars and the war." "Bring it on home, girl," Mulder slurred, sleep claiming him once again. "And, make sweet love to you. Singing, Joy to the..." **************** ...Making sweet love to you... to you, Mulder. She'd make sweet love to you. He could live with that... throw away those cars; those damn station wagons, with their fold-up seats, and vinyl interiors. Throw away road trips with nagging siblings and miles and miles of stuff...and no chance at reading 'cause he got carsick and would throw up. Uh.oh... back to the vomit thing again... Nope...Not going there this time...He was taking control of this stream. We're paddlin' this canoe up a more scenic route. A sweeter, more joyful journey. He could still hear gentle humming in his ears. Maybe it was only his imagination but it was beautiful, none the less. A lullaby he never expected to hear. Because it wasn't but a few months ago, he had fully expected Scully to be joining a more Heavenly Choir. Not sitting here in some damp, mosquito infested, Florida forest, singing the 70's top rock and roll hits. God, wasn't it grand. Scully, alive. Scully, singing-- badly. And those hands, they were stroking him again. She was petting him, rubbing him, soothing him into dreamless sleep. At least she thought she was. But, his brain was not ready to rest. This dream was floating down a beautiful, flowing stream, where the water danced and splayed in bright shining droplets over the canoe bow. There was joy and laughter and loving...delicious loving, languid and gentle like the caress of the river against the boat. Passionate murmurs, quiet touches of discovery. Erogenous, sensual, replete with the unfolding of buried desires and secret fantasies. They were embraced by the river, swimming in life's sustaining waters, moving with the simple beat of time's oldest dance. Their souls were one with the water, one in each other, one for eternity. Entwined together like nature and the river, bringing life to them both. Alright, enough poetry. This was his dream... Damn it. Forget, this mamby, pamby sunset river cruise. Nah, their lovemaking would be wild and spontaneous... more like white water rafting. It would be exciting and breathtaking, passion unfolding at breakneck speed. Something new around each corner, no way to plan, and no way to turn around... a hang on for dear life, let's ride this baby through...or we're going out of this boat, together. Over rapids, in swells, where the river rushed up to cover them, drenching both of them in its life's blood. Covering them with the shocking cold, exhilarating in its intensity. Visceral. Bracing and stinging and unbelievably wild. Sure there were moments of calm, moments within the confines of the rapids where the water was still and they could catch their breath, rest in its peacefulness. But, there was always the knowledge that right around the next bend, right past the next grove of trees, overhanging the river's edge, there would be the next climactic moment... The next moment of release...The next... ******************** "Mulder..Mulder. Wake up, Mulder," Scully, hissed trying to awaken her dead to the world partner. "Whaaat, what, Scully," Mulder answered grumpily, raising himself to a sitting position. "You see something?" She'd better have seen something, that dream was just getting good. Pulling his jacket down around his hips, he wiggled around trying to find a more comfortable position. Damn tight jeans, anyway. "No, Mulder, all's quiet on the Western Front." "You tired, then, Scully? Need me to relieve you?" "Actually, Mulder, your choice of words is rather apropos. I need to use the bathroom." "Uh, Scully. isn't that something you can handle all on your own," Mulder squirmed, his imagination fueling the lingering after effects of his dream. "First of all, Mulder," she began, as though lecturing an obtuse child. "You're lying across my lap. I need you to move. Secondly, I'm not sure we should be separated. Your "Mothmen" always seem to attack..." "...when we separate. Gotcha, Scully." Mulder eased himself up. He winced, noting burning pain radiating from his shoulder, and stiffness, stemming from lack of movement and, regrettably, age. He was getting too freakin old for this nonsense. "Ok, Scully. You're the boss. How do you want to handle this? Want to hold hands, skipping into the forest to find a nice cozy port-o-potty?" "As much as the thought of seeing you skip anywhere intrigues me, I think we can do this in a more dignified manner than me squatting down in the forest in front of you." "Intriguing is not the word, I'd use." Mulder mumbled quietly, turning to watch Scully twist and stretch as she rose from the ground. He realized how sore she must be from holding him for the last several hours. It couldn't be any picnic for her, being unable to move from her cramped position. "Tell you what Scully, after we visit the little outhouse in the woods, I'll give you a break. You can rest on me for a change." "That's ok, Mulder. I'm actually doing well. Other than fearing eminent attack from who knows where, I've had a quiet night of contemplation. It wasn't too long ago, I didn't dare hope to see many more of those in my future." Slinging his good arm around her shoulder, pulling her close in a tight embrace, Mulder bent and kissed her cheek. Seeing her surprise, he acknowledged her words. "I, too, have been ruminating on where tonight fits, in context with what's transpired the last several months. I agree this, hands down, is hardly a blip on life's trauma radar. You're looking so much healthier, Scully. Color and vibrancy are returning." Clasping his hand, she reached up, kissing the corner of his mouth, "I know, Mulder. It's good to be alive. Even if I may have to use leaves for toilet paper." "Don't say, I ever let you down, partner," Mulder said, reaching into his pocket grabbing a wadded up napkin left over from lunch. Handing it to her, he celebrated in her dazzling smile. "Ok, partner, so how are we gonna handle this?" "As much as it pains me to say this, Mulder. You're gonna have to stay with me." "We gonna have a pissing contest, Scully." "Actually, I was thinking more like dueling at twenty paces." "What?" "Back to back, Mulder. You face one way; I face the other. Our back's together." "And we whip around at the count of three, and start. what...shooting?" Giving him an exasperated look, Scully shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to bring circulation back to her tingling legs. "Won't we be exposing our most vulnerable parts to mothmen, jaguars and black bears, Agent Scully?" "Exactly, Agent Mulder. I'll protect yours and you protect mine." ************************ ...the eyes were piercing in their intensity, blood red, soulless eyes of the damned. They watched him; they bored into his soul, they transpired to intimidate, to frighten, and to overwhelm. They were ever present, in his sleep, in his waking hours; but foremost, in that dream state between deep slumber and morning arousal. That time where he drifted, not quite ready to awake but lost to the dreams of repose. It was a gray area, where the nighttime terrors or dreams of fantasy and flight were giving way to the mantle of responsibility and commitment that he bore. That's where he always saw these eyes. They were not the beast eyes of elusive mothmen but they were the eyes of their tormentor. Smoke consumed eyes, aged with the death and destruction of people, of ideals, of justice. They blinded him in their glaring intensity. They galvanized him into action... ************************* "Scully!" Mulder shouted, waking up and realizing he was alone. To the right of him, Scully's arm, gun clasped tightly in hand, raised out of a large clump of bushes. "Mmmm... I'm over here, Mulder." "What are you doing, Scully?" "I'm looking for food. Found some wild berries." Still feeling the residual spookiness of his dream, Mulder said, "I wouldn't go far." "Mulder, you never left my sight.." (Dialogue past **, excerpted from "Detour", fifth season.) The End