Bits of Now and Then By Christine Leigh Summary: Post-Trust No 1. Scully POV alternating with flashback scenes with Mulder. Rating: PG Category: MSR Spoilers: Irresistible, Die hand Die Verletzt; mild one for Home. Disclaimer: All characters are the products of Chris Carter. They also belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. No copyright infringement intended. The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford was first published in 1945. Feedback: leighchristine@hotmail.com Archiving: If you would like to archive anywhere, I'd appreciate a quick note first. Scully's apartment A Sunday morning in January Scully was not going out today. It had rained all night and it didn't look like it would cease anytime soon, so she decided to stay in. She had no particular plans, but would probably have run some of the errands she used to be able to do on her way home from work that had, since the advent of William, been relegated to Saturday or Sunday. She was fortunate to have a grocery store in her neighborhood that delivered, and she had already made an order that would arrive later that afternoon. The rest could wait. In between tending and playing with her infant son, she hoped to finish the book she had started two weeks ago. A burning log in her fireplace and some music on the CD player completed her plan. She needed to feel something besides cold, wet, and depressed. Tomorrow she would have to face her students and colleagues, and her facade, so meticulously constructed over the past months, and so harshly ripped apart two nights ago, must be rebuilt. She needed Mulder and at the same time needed to stop thinking that she might never see him again. These had been the twin worries running through her mind as she'd e-mailed him the night before last. She had awakened in a cold sweat early the next morning, the thought that she had actually typed the words "forever yours," filling her with fear. All she could think of, was that it was very bad luck to be so blatant about what she wanted. It was one hell of a time for her Irish superstition to kick in. Her three-hour log was giving off good flames by the time the coffee had finished dripping, and she poured a cup, stirring in some French vanilla-flavored creamer. This was an indulgence she had never allowed herself in the past that had become a habit. She needed flavor wherever she could get it. William shouldn't be up for another hour, so she located her book and settled on the couch. It had been several years since she'd reread an old favorite, and the lovely hardback copy of "The Pursuit of Love," held a special significance. It had been a gift from Mulder. He'd always teased her about her romantic taste in reading, and whenever the opportunity presented itself, he would peruse her bookshelves, taking a book down and reading a page or two. Then, looking bemused, he would replace the book back on the shelf -- always exactly where it had been. He'd repeat this routine usually two or three times. Scully had thought it was just to gather more fodder for his teasing, so when he'd presented her with this book on her birthday two years ago, she'd been truly surprised. Now, for the millionth time, she read the inscription. 'Your paperback copy won't withstand one more reading. For the record, those pages with the scotch tape were always that way. Here's a sturdier copy. You amaze me. Happy Birthday, Scully. Yours, Mulder.' She rubbed her fingers gently over his handwriting. Then she found her chapter and settled in for a good, long read. **** Afternoon "Do you want to listen to some music?" William didn't seem to have an opinion. He and Scully had been playing for the last half hour, which consisted of him grabbing her finger and then her holding him while walking around the living room, all the while carrying on a one-sided conversation. "Look at the rain William. Do you see all that water coming down from the sky? I've seen a lot of rain in my life, but today it seems like it isn't going to stop, ever. I don't think we'll be taking our walk." Scully moved to the CD player and traded Tchaikovsky for a disc of Chopin piano sonatas. She looked at the so-called entertainment center of her living room. Along with the television, the VCR and the CD player was a box full of LPs and 45s that Mulder had brought from his apartment. Scully found it hard not to smile at this dusty old collection. She almost wished she had a turntable. To think that she had a copy of "The Night Chicago Died," but no way to listen to it in all its scratchy glory. "Your father can be so goofy sometimes William. He could make me feel good under some very strange circumstances. Which was most of our time together. Once, instead of water coming down from the sky we had toads bouncing off our umbrellas. That's right. They just rained down on us. Your father said they'd forgotten their parachutes. I didn't let him know it then, but that made me laugh. Later that night when I was alone in my room I laughed out loud just remembering what he'd said." William gurgled at this. Scully sighed. She wished she'd laughed when Mulder had made his toad joke, instead of waiting until she was alone. She'd been so wary of letting him see her enjoy his humor, of letting him into her heart just a little, even as a friend. She vowed to herself that when they were together again, she would never hold back her laughter. She put William back into his bassinet and went to get her journal from the bedroom. She had a few thoughts she wanted to get down while they were fresh. She returned and then sat down at the kitchen table and started writing: 'Mulder, today has been very hard. It's been two days since I e-mailed you, and I'm trying to pull myself together enough so that I can function tomorrow during class. William and I have spent our day so far, indoor, as it is raining steadily. We have these wonderful conversations where I do all the talking. He's very patient with me. This afternoon I told him about the time the toads rained down on us and what you said about their forgetting their parachutes. I never told you this, but that made me laugh so hard. Not there in the forest after it happened, obviously, but later in my room when I was alone. I regret not letting you see how much your sense of humor entertained me that day, and on so many others. I was so afraid of letting you into my heart. You were the most intense person I'd ever met, but also one of the funniest. Those attributes combined with your devastating sexiness, and sweetness of heart proved to be too much for me at the time. It both scared and delighted me to know that someone like you was in my life; was in fact the major person in my life. But I wasn't ready to acknowledge it openly. Thank you for being so patient. Perhaps when he is a little older, you can tell William the toad story. What a lucky boy he is to have you for his father.' She closed the journal and went over to the window in the living room. The rain had lessened some. William was asleep. She prayed that Mulder was warm and dry wherever he was. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined a day in the future. It was a sunny day. Perhaps they would be having a picnic. There was a very pretty park two blocks away from her building where she took William for a walk most weekends, weather permitting. Last Saturday there had been a couple there with a little girl, who appeared to be about three. They were all bundled up and sitting at a picnic table enjoying their lunch. Scully wanted so to do that one day with Mulder and William. Her reverie was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. She went to look through the peephole and saw Mike with her groceries. It was good to have a regular delivery person, which meant one less I.D. to check. She opened the door. "Mike, hi. Thanks so much for coming out in this weather. You can set it on the floor next to the table." He entered and set the box of goods down. Usually it was an oblong box; this one was a tall, deep box. She'd have fun digging the stuff out. "It's not too bad now, and I only had three other orders besides yours today." He handed Scully the bill. "Glad to hear that. I haven't been out at all today, so I really do appreciate the service." She handed him his payment plus a generous tip. "Thanks, Dana. You and the little one stay dry. Bye." He left. Scully started to unload the box. It was mostly stuff that she needed to get through the work week -- yogurt, fruit, bagels, more of her French vanilla creamer, plus dry goods. Mike had packed the box rather snugly. She pulled out a roll of paper towels, and saw an umbrella jammed into the box. Oh dear, she thought, he must have stuck his umbrella in the box and forgotten it when the rain let up. She took it out. Then she sat down. She breathed deeply for a minute or two. Then she looked at it again. She'd know this umbrella anywhere; had stood under it next to its owner more times than she could count. This was Mulder's umbrella. **** Minneapolis 1994 Scully awoke, disoriented and sore. It took seconds for her to remember. Pfaster. Donnie Pfaster had tried to strangle her, but Mulder and Agent Bocks had arrived just in time. God, it had been like a bad TV drama. She rubbed her wrists. Mulder had checked on her repeatedly during the night; she knew that. He'd stayed until she'd fallen asleep, and then had returned to his room. But she heard the connecting door open at least three times during the night. She got up and headed for the shower. She could have used an hour under the water, but they had to be to the airport by 9:00, so she made quick work of it and was toweled off with her makeup on and hair dried in half an hour. When Mulder knocked on the door she was ready. "Come in." He entered and smiled at seeing her dressed and ready to go, and looking somewhat better than she had last night. "Morning, Scully. How're you doing?" "Better. Mulder, thank you for staying here until I was asleep." "You're welcome. Did you sleep all right?" "Yes." And the thing was, that she had. She'd felt safe knowing he was there. She'd never questioned his ability to cover her in the field, but last night had been different. Last night he'd offered her comfort, and she'd accepted it. She could still feel his arms around her. The memory of their strength had warmed her through the night and now into the day. "It's raining pretty hard. We should probably get going now to allow for the traffic." "I'm ready." She just needed her umbrella. She looked around. Where was it? "Mulder, was my umbrella recovered from the rental car?" "Your suitcase and briefcase. That was it. We can share mine. It's big enough." She smiled at him. "Thanks." They trudged to the car, suitcases and briefcases in hand, and managed to stay relatively dry. It was a quiet ride to the airport, but the silence was a peaceful one. Then Scully thought of something. "Mulder, I'm sorry about the football game. That would have been fun." "There'll be another event sometime." She looked out the window. She hoped that was true. **** Scully's apartment Later in the afternoon Scully had been sitting and caressing the handle of the umbrella for almost half an hour. It was a solid wood handle, well worn through many years of use. She pictured Mulder's beautiful, long fingers wrapped around it. She looked at it as though it were the eighth wonder of the world. How on earth had he managed to do this? She stood up finally, and set it on the table. As she resumed unpacking, she noticed a small slip of paper in the bottom of the box. It looked like a store receipt that had been left behind. She turned the box upside down and the paper fluttered to the floor. There was handwriting on the back of it. Feeling strangely calm, she picked it up and read what it said: 'Please keep dry and warm. I love you both. M.' She stared at it. And then she raised it to her lips and kissed it, gently, so as not to leave too much of an imprint. She then went to the living room and placed it in her book to mark the page where she'd stopped reading earlier. For the first time in two days she felt as though she could go forward, if only by inches. She'd carried him in her heart for so many years. He hadn't been there by her side for most of that, and they'd survived. Now wasn't all that different. She would try to hang onto that, and to the way she was feeling right now. **** Outside Home, Pennsylvania 1996 "So, tell me Scully, how does a kid come to consider watching 'Babe' fifteen times a day as fun? I mean, once or twice I can understand, but doesn't he get bored after that?" They had been driving for just over an hour and had been quiet except for a few perfunctory exchanges about the horrific case they'd just wrapped, when Mulder decided it was time to try and bring a little normality, such as it was for them, back to the scene. "Mulder, I was bored after one viewing, and even with a movie I loved as a kid, I never could have watched it on an endless loop, but it's different today. They don't just watch a movie for entertainment, except possibly the first time, and then only if they get to see it in an actual movie theatre -- they watch it to memorize every line, so they can recite them back and forth with their friends. It's the thing to do." "I think I'm glad I was a kid before video came along." "But you're pretty pleased with it as an adult, I've gathered." "Yeah, but twice is my limit per viewing, per sitting." "And you'll be sure to impart that philosophy to your children." "Excuse me, did I miss something?" They exchanged smiles and were quiet again for a few minutes. Then Scully spoke. "Mulder, I can see you as a parent, and I think you'd make a terrific father should that ever happen for you." He didn't take his eyes off the road. It had been a monotonous drive so far, down a long road with nothing much to offer in the way of a view. His mind wandered back again to the all day pick-up games, only this time he saw a little boy with red hair. Funny, he thought, how your mind could make leaps like that. It was an improbable vision, he knew, and one that would disappear soon enough, but for the moment it made the road before him tolerable. He turned his head a degree to look at Scully. "Thanks." - end - http://cleigh6.tripod.com