Title:  One Another's Best
 
Author:  mimic117
 
Email:  mimic117@yahoo.com
 
Rating:  G
 
Spoilers:  Paper Clip
 
Summary:  Sorrows shared are sorrows halved.
 
Disclaimer:  Just playing with them again.  Be nice.

If this looks familiar, that's because it was posted last year 
as part of the Memoirs of Caring Project.  I'm just now getting
around to sending it to other places.  I'm slow, but I get there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One Another's Best
by mimic117

He finds her at their bench.  The one where he'd met her 
mother while Scully was missing.  The one where the former 
partners talked in secret when they were officially separated.  
They had each retreated here at different times in the past, 
seeking solitude while their newest emotional wound began to 
knit closed.

She'd been restless all day, unable to settle on one task; edgy, 
snappish.  He'd known it was too soon for her to be back at 
work after losing her sister, but she insisted--as he knew she 
would.  When she announced her desire to take a long lunch, 
Mulder knew that she was planning to go off and brood.  He 
also knew she really shouldn't be alone.  

That was over an hour ago.  So he's come looking for her, 
hoping that he can at least be there if she needs someone to 
lean on.

"Is this seat taken?"

She shakes her head but doesn't look at him as he sits down.  

The sun reflects off the water, filling their silence with 
dazzling light which doesn't quite reach into the shadows of 
their thoughts.  The quiet stretches out for minutes on end, not 
uncomfortable, but not restful, either.  It startles him when she 
finally speaks.

"I miss her, Mulder."

He places his hand on her sleeve.

"I know."

She breathes in raggedly once, regaining control almost 
immediately.  Then she clears her throat before speaking 
again.

"Missy and I liked to play games when we were supposed to be 
sleeping.  It drove our parents crazy."

She doesn't say any more for several seconds, so he turns 
toward her and asks, "What kind of games?"

The corner of her mouth quirks up, just the tiniest bit.  No one 
else would notice, but he does.

"Stupid games, really.  I think all we wanted to do is prove that 
we didn't have to listen to them."

He nods.

"Yeah, Samantha and I used to do that, too.  We thought our 
parents didn't know what we were up to, but we were just 
fooling ourselves."

Scully looks over at him finally, the quirk in her lips a little 
bigger.

"There was this one game we really liked.  We'd play it for 
hours, until Mom got fed up and yelled at us to go to sleep.  
Then we'd lie in bed and giggle together until we dropped off in 
mid-giggle."

She stops talking and waits.  She knows his curiosity won't let 
her quit, and he doesn't disappoint her.

"So fess up.  What was this special game?  Was it something 
kinky?"

Her eyebrow rises as high as it can go.

"We were kids, Mulder.  Of course it wasn't kinky."

"A guy can hope, can't he?"

She huffs a small laugh, the first she's produced in days.  
Exactly the reaction he was looking for.  

"So what was this innocent game?" he asks.

She turns back to face the gleaming water, but the quirk grows 
into a genuine smile.

"For a long time, we shared an old bed that was higher off the 
floor then most beds.  When we first got it, I needed a step-
stool to climb onto the mattress."

She glances over at him and says, "Don't even think about it."

His wide, innocent eyes don't fool her, but he doesn't say 
anything, so she looks back at the water and continues.

"First, we'd throw our pillows on the floor to one side of the 
bed.  Then, we would cross our legs into the lotus position, like 
you'd do for yoga, and try to scoot off the bed without letting 
our legs uncross."  

Mulder's chuckle makes her turn toward him again.  His eyes 
are shining with mirth.  

"Don't laugh," she admonishes.  "It was a lot harder than it 
sounds.  Plus we eventually decided to try getting back into the 
bed with our legs crossed, but it couldn't be done.  Sometimes, 
Missy made it to the floor without uncrossing her legs, but then 
hers were longer than mine.  I didn't stand a chance.  Neither of 
us ever made it back into the bed that way.  But it was fun."

Scully looks back at the water and her tone becomes wistful.

"I miss those days sometimes."

They become quiet again for several minutes.  He shifts on the 
bench and sits up straighter.  

"My dad built me a tree house one summer," he says.  "We 
worked on it together weekends and every night he was home 
for three weeks.  I marked them on the calendar."

She moves her arm so that his hand slides down her sleeve 
and slips into her hand.  He leans a little closer, pressing 
solidly against her shoulder, creating a spot of warmth where 
they touch.  

"How big was it?" she asks, letting her own curiosity have free 
reign.

"Big enough for three or four kids to sleep on the floor."

"That must have been a lot of work."

He turns toward her and smiles.  

"It was.  But it was fun, too.  Dad taught me how to cut boards 
with a hand saw, and he even let me pound in nails.  He didn't 
take out the crooked ones, either.  By the time we were done, I 
was actually driving them straight."

He faces forward again, squinting against the glare off the 
water.

"I started looking forward to working on it.  It wasn't just the 
fact that I was allowed to use the tools.  We talked while we 
worked, too.  For once, I had my father all to myself, and I 
loved it."

"What did you talk about?"

He shrugs.

"Lots of things.  Dad came from a family of ship's carpenters, 
and he had his grandfather's tools.  We used the planes for 
smoothing the surface of the wood, rasps to carve out niches 
for the branches under the floor--he even let me make holes 
in the boards with the hand-cranked drill just for the fun of it."

She squeezes his hand.

"That sounds nice, Mulder.  How old were you?"

"I turned eight that fall.  When we got the tree house done, Dad 
let me invite a couple of friends over for a sleep-out.  We 
hoisted our sleeping bags up by tying them to a rope on a 
pulley.  We formed a human chain and passed chips, soda and 
candy bars up the ladder.  Eddie ate so much he threw up on 
Alan's sleeping bag during the night and we had to toss it over 
the side.  That tree house was a huge hit.  The next few years 
were a lot of fun, until we outgrew it.  Sometimes, I wish... "

"Yeah."  She sighs.  "Me, too."

They continue to sit quietly.  Around them, people walk by 
without a glance in their direction.  The sun moves a little 
closer toward the horizon and shadows slowly stretch out across 
the ground.  The silence is no longer restless.  It is tinged 
with regrets--promises not kept, words unsaid.  But there is a 
feeling of hope, a lifting of the spirit that has nothing to do 
with the bright sunlight.  

"You'll be okay, Scully," he says.

"Will I?"

"It'll take a while, but yeah, you will.  You're strong.  
Stronger than anyone else I know."

She leans her head against his shoulder and squeezes his 
hand again.

"What about you, Mulder?  Will you be okay?"

"Sure I will," he answers.  "I've got you."

She nods and snuggles closer into his side.  He lets go of her 
hand and lifts his arm to place it around her shoulders and 
gather her in.  

The sun glides farther toward night, but they don't notice as 
they sit together for a little while longer.  

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THE END

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