From: "Kris "Beast" Abel" Date: Thu, 9 May 1996 12:07:21 EST Subject: The Rest of the Stories 'ello there! This is the unflappable Kris Abel here with a story that will knock your heads off! I hope...Anyways, it is a very, very strange piece and probably is that way because it was written based upon a daydream of thoughts left unthought for a long, long time. ReallY! I'm not kidding! This story is based upon the recent episode "Oubliette" and starts off right after the episode ends. It's sorta weird, sorta bad, sorta good, but it's definitely a little bit romantic with a few microns of UST. Disclaimer: The X-Files and all characters are the sole originalities of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and FOX Broadcasting Co. (Although Mr.Chicken still persists that it's his own life story. Right, Danny Boy?) Don't sue me for being creative, Carter! This episode is dedicated to Dan Clark. Dan, you're a great guy and I know being unloved is hard. Here's a little "soul medicene" for you. You're a bud, Klack!;) Written and Finished on 11/17/95, 11:34 pm "Apologies and Dreams" by Kris Abel, the Episodic Grumbler The sunlight drifted into the small, sparsely furnished room at the halfway house. Tiny specs of dust lazily floated in the stream of sunlight; ultimately alighting upon a tall, grave man standing by the window. His dark blue trenchcoat was speckled with dust already and a small, slightly pale hand reached up and lightly brushed them away. "I'm sorry, Mulder," a red-haired woman addressed the man. He didn't move an inch. "I'm sorry I bothered to say I'm sorry," she said, hoping for a smile. All she got was silence. "I didn't mean to imply that you were placing your personal feelings ahead of your professional duties," she began, not sure of what to say. "I'm sorry," again. That was the best she could manage. The man still did not acknowledge her presence. She turned her head down and walked back to her perch on the edge of the rickety bed. The metal springs and frame squeaked in protest at her wieght and then quieted as she did. The pair remained that way for some time; one distant, the other close. The sunlight eventually began to fade and the dust motes dispersed from their swirling to fade into the oncoming darkness. The woman felt her eyes began to close as the pace of the case began to catch up to her. *When WAS the last time she had rested well?* She thought. *When was the last time they BOTH had rested well?* As her eyelids began to shutter themselves, the woman allowed herself to lay back on the bed; legs draped across the edge of the bed. Instinctively, her arms reached out and curled around the pillow as her flaming head rested itself upon it. She was slumbering in mere minutes. * * * * * * * * The man moved his head at the sound of the woman lying down. With a slight movement, he turned around quietly and walked over gently to the side of the bed. His partner was breathing softly through her nose as she lay curled up on the bed like a newborn. From the bottom of the bed, he gathered the one heavy blanket and carefully tucked it around her. She stirred at the accidental touching of his fingers to her left leg and then was still once more. *She's sorry for what she did. I should forgive her.* He thought. *But did she mean what she said? Was I really getting personal with Lu-that woman?* He corrected himself. The man sighed and then caught himself yawning as he raised his hands above his head and streched them. His shoulders cracked noisily followed by his elbows, his wrists, and then his knuckles. He lowered his arms and they went limp at his side. A flash of blindness swept him as he closed his eyes. They opened with a jerk at the thought of how late it was getting. *I should wake her and leave.* He thought, but his body was too tired to respond. That mad dash through the woods had left him drained and exhausted. Not even a cup of coffee could bring him out of this stupor. The bed, with its rusty headboard and thin mattress, looked really comfortable right then to him. *Why not? The flight to D.C. dosen't leave until tommorrow afternoon.* With a heave, the man removed his trenchcoat and added it to the blanket thrown over his partner. Then he shuffled around to the other side of the bed and laid down next to her. Gently, he snuggled in a little close; his legs and chest just barely touching her lithe frame. As he drifted off to dreamland, Agent Mulder's last thought was:*Scully smells like strawberries*. * * * * * * * * * A great cloud descended over a lone figure on a lonely street in some unnameable city in some nondescript country. The cloud dispersed to show a small girl sitting suspended in the air above the gound so she was level with the tall man's eyes. "Samantha." Mulder breathed. The girl smiled elfishly and ruffled his soft brown hair. "You bet, Butt Munch," Samantha teased, her white nightgown swirling about her in the darkness. "Why are you here?" He asked, reaching out to touch her. His fingers passed right through her. "I'm not really. I'm just here to give you a message: from Lucy." She said, averting her eyes to the ground below. The man knelt down below her so she could see his eyes. "What is it?" Mulder choked, his breath ragged in his throat now. Sam looked left and right before bendin her head down; midnight hair spilling long over her shoulders. "Lucy says thank you, Fox. She says that she's happy and not to worry," Sam whispered. "She also says to not be mad at the red-head: she was just doing her job." "Scully...," he breathed. Sam smiled softly at him one last time and touched the side of his face shyly. Her touch was warm and it seemed that the warmth infused his entire body. "Samantha.." "Bye, Fox. I love you," she whispered and pecked him on the cheek before disappearing back into the surrounding fog. He was alone. A man tucked away hidden in shadows with only a flashlight for company....but with a mind that shredded the darkness to pieces. He was renewed. * * * * * * * Mulder awoke with a start as he came out of his dream. With a sigh, he lowered himself back to the pillow; eyes closing to go back to sleep. His pillow was moving up and down. Opening his eyes, he found that his pillow was really Scully's chest. His head was resting on her soft chest as she breathed gently in and out. Carefully, he tried to raise his head off of her, but a piece of his hair caught on a button on her blouse and pinned him to her. *Oh, no.* Mulder groaned to himself as Scully began to shift and turn in her sleep. In a second, her eyes would be open and she would be scolding him like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar for letting her fall asleep at the halfway house. She woke up...but the berating never came. "Mulder? You awake?" She whispered. She thought he was asleep! Shutting his eyes tight, Mulder prayed that she went back to sleep. Then he felt the touch on his cheek. A soft, warm touch that sent his head spinning as it ventured upward to his forehead and then back down to his neck. "I'm still sorry, Mulder. I KNOW you cared about Lucy, but I couldn't figure out why. Did you know that I was jealous of her?" She said bitterly, a finger straying to caress his lower lip. "I had no idea, Scully," Mulder said quietly; eyes opening to drink her in. "Were you?" She blushed crimson at this and pulled away. With a jerk, he sat up and leaned against the headboard as she turned her head away from him. "Were you?" He repeated as he laid a hand down on her own cheek. It was downy and flushed with color. She turned her head and looked directly into his eyes. "Yes," came out of her mouth with a rusty squeak. It was as if a door, rusted shut from years of disuse, had cracked open to let that small, seemingly harmless declaration out. Scully's cerulean blue eyes clouded over and then became wet as she sat up in the bed next to him. "I'm sorry," he said. Their eyes locked and a small snort of laughter drifted out of Scully as he said the words she had repeated to him over and over again only hours before. Mulder caught her laughter and smiled as he realized that he was the one who was sorry now. "Are we even now?" He asked. "Yeah," Scully smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. A nerve shot through his body at her touch, but he was in control of it and squashed it down...for now. * * * * * * * * Well? Whaddya think? Flames, critiques, and W.U.F.I. (Weird Unidentified Flying Ideas) go to Kris Abel at kabelicious@gmail.com. * * * * * * * * * Kris Abel: Class of '98, X-Phile, Leaper, Peaker, Shadower, Official Vampire Buddy, Bartender at the Raven, Episodic Grumbler, Egorite, Dr.Ruth, Leba Ann Atkins, Moe, BEAST, Agent Carlina Matthews, The Next JC, Lady Giovanna de Reccani, The Catcher, The KDD, The RSDS, EMXCer, Duchovnik, The MOD Squad, TV III, Creator of Egor's Dungeon, Future Pathologist/Writer/Film Editor (Techy stuff), and thinker of thoughts best left unthought. * * * * * * * * * * "If a man can live off anger, then why can't he live off love?"