From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2000 12:49:20 -0600
Subject: Abnormal (1/1) by Emily
Source: direct

Reply To: mizander@yahoo.com


Title: Abnormal
Author: Emily  mizander@yahoo.com
Rating: G
Spoilers: Two references to season 6
Summary: Mind games.
Feedback: Yes, please.


Mulder observed his partner with a concentration that
had been drilled into him during his academy years.
He had long since broken his self imposed promise not 
to use his investigative skills to try and figure her 
out, and now he was outwardly picking her brain, firing 
off rounds of questions that seemed to amuse her more 
than anything. Still, she had answered him with a 
straight face until he demanded to know how many pairs 
of shoes she owned. At that, she had burst out laughing. 
'Mulder, how is that relevant to anything?'
He waggled his eyebrows at her.
'My training as a psychologist is telling me you're 
avoiding answering the question, agent Scully.'
Eyes dancing, she challenged him.
'Guess.'
And then she leant back in her chair, arms folded, and 
watched his brain going into overdrive. 
He stared at her feet. Zip-up boots with a block heel - 
she had been wearing those when she had been attacked 
by....whatever it was that had attacked her before 
Padgett burned his book. 
One.
Then there were the shoes he had bought her himself, 
to replace those that had been taken away along with 
her clothes at Fort Marlene last year. She had protested 
vehemently, but he had dragged her to the mall and 
insisted on buying her a suit, shoes and a shirt. He 
had decided against pushing his luck for underwear - 
he didn't want to get shot again. It had been a great 
day, and he had stolen a kiss when he dropped her off 
at her place in the evening. And she wore the stuff, 
too, from time to time. 
Two.
He knew she owned one pair of sneakers, and 
a pair of hiking boots. 
Four.
OK, so she owned at least four pairs of shoes.
In his opinion, it was actually probably closer to 
ten, but he wanted to get it exactly right. He racked 
his brain for other occasions when he had noticed 
her footwear. 

After fifteen minutes, she had had enough.
'Mulder, I myself don't know exactly how many pairs 
of shoes I have. There are about five pairs I wear 
on a regular basis and at least one pair I never 
wear. And I still don't see why you want to know this.'
His brain had stopped mid-sentence.
'A pair that you never wear? What's the point of a 
pair of shoes if you don't wear them?'
She looked at him as if he was out of his mind. 
'I've worn them maybe twice. They're too dressy for 
work, Mulder, that's all.'
'Oh.'
His mind had just offered him a plan.
'Do you have dressy clothes to go with your dressy 
shoes, agent Scully?'
'Yes.'
He could tell she was getting tired of his games.
'Would you consider actually getting some wear out of 
these clothes and shoes? Say, for dinner tonight?'
She stared at him for a long time. 
'Mulder, what was the point of your interrogation this 
afternoon? You said you wanted to determine whether I 
was still normal, or whether you'd rubbed off on me, 
right?'
'Right.'
Now he was the one with no clue as to where the questions 
were going. 
'So do you think I'm normal?'
'Um...'
He searched her eyes for a possible answer, helpless.
'Think carefully, G-Man, because my accepting your offer 
for dinner tonight depends on your answer.'
There was a long silence, interrupted for a brief moment 
when a pencil dropped from the ceiling. Neither of them 
were surprised - it was the third one to plummet to the 
floor that day. Mulder absently sent it flying skywards
again and resumed his reflection. 
Finally, he spoke up.
'As an abnormal person myself, Scully, I don't think 
I'm really qualified to say if you're normal or not. 
But as your partner and friend, I would like to state 
for the record that I wouldn't want you to be anything 
but exactly who you are.'
Her eyes shone. 
'Good answer, partner. You got yourself a date.'


This story is dedicated to Karen. If you don't 
understand where this is coming from, dear, 
re-read the last twenty e-mails or so and ponder 
the adjective 'dressy'. Hejsa, mate!:)