From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 23 Sep 2002 17:33:53 -0000
Subject: Chapter and Verse by Nezmai
Source: direct

Reply To: Nezmai@aol.com


Title: Chapter and Verse

By: nezmai (Nezmai@aol.com)

For: The Haven 5W Challenge 

Rating: Hmmm... PG-13, please read it anyway 
Sybil!

Spoilers:  You must have an encyclopedic 
knowledge of the 9 seasons of the X-Files along 
with script notes and a bibliography.  Or you 
could just wing it. 

Disclaimer: I make no money from this.  
Everything X-Files related belongs to FOX, 
1013 Productions, and Chris Carter, except for 
the radio from "Triangle" - I own that.  You 
guys can borrow it if you'd like.

For Chris.  It's your playground.  I merely 
swing from the monkey bars.

xxxxxx

Maybe it happened this way:

Mom killed herself.  She's dead. No plot, no 
cover-up, no Cigarette Smoking Bastard - just 
her.   She did this to herself.  She did this to me.  
That's it.  Dad's gone.  Mom's gone.  Sam, oh 
God, Sam's gone, that's it, I'm alone, alone, no 
one but me all gone all dead.

Dead.  Dead.  Dead.

Cold.  It's cold.  So cold.  Can't get warm so 
cold.  

Warm.  Warmth.  My back is warm; my arms 
are warm.  Warm mouth, warm breath, warm 
wet - tears.  Scully's tears.   Scully's warm.  
Scully's warmth.  Scully, I'm cold.  Scully's 
warm.  Oh Scully you're so warm.  You're so 
alive.

Alive.  Alive.  Alive.

Love you.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Ok.  Ok, I won't be sorry.  I'm not sorry, I'm 
not sorry, love you.  Love you Scully.  Oh 
Scully, I love you.  

No, I don't want to go to bed.  No, I don't want 
to lie down.  I want to stay here.  I wanna stay 
here with you.  

Oh. Ok Scully.  Ok, we can both go lay down.  
That would be good.  That's good.  Thank you 
Scully.  Thank you.  Thank you for being alive...
Or it could have been this way:

Mulder's couch is not conducive to long term 
sleep, which has to be a part of his insomnia 
problems.  It's going to take hours to get this 
crick out of my neck.  I feel groggy, thirsty and 
my clothes have twisted in a very uncomfortable 
way.  These pantyhose have got to go.  Check.  
My other problems can be fixed with a nice cold 
glass of water.  Hmmm.  Check.  Now to slip on 
my shoes, grab my keys and jacket and head 
home.

Wait.  Slow down.  I've had this big epiphany, 
this acceptance that every moment has led to 
this moment.  So, all I do with this moment is 
go home like any other night?

If everything happens for a reason than why is 
the reason this happened?

Daniel - another father.  I couldn't even see him 
as that when another daughter seeking his 
approval was right there.  Poor Maggie.  

So many fathers - who worked to teach, to 
instruct, 

To control.

I thought I wanted that once, maybe I really did 
but I don't now.  I'm more than a daughter now, 
more than a student.  It's not enough to accept 
another's teachings, another's view of me. 

I need someone who will learn as well as teach.  
Someone who values my knowledge and 
experience.  Someone who sees me as the equal 
I am now.  

Long feet peek out from under the covers, toes 
twitching in the faint early morning light, then 
up to strong curved calves, and the rest 
disappearing under his blanket.  

Are you naked Mulder?  Are you waiting for 
me?

My movements wake him.

"Hey, Scully.  Goin' home?"

The way he rubs the sleep from his eye with the 
palm of his hand reminds me of a little boy.  
What a beautiful little boy you must have been 
Mulder.   What a beautiful man you are now.  
Body and mind, heart and soul.   

"Yes, I am."

With that I slip my jacket off and climb into bed 
next to him, settling my head on his chest.  
Here's another steady beat - the thump, thump, 
thump of his heart.

He stiffens but then slowly relaxes, putting his 
arm around me and smoothing small circles 
between my shoulder blades.  His next words 
are very soft.

"Of course you can stay, but I thought you were 
going home."

"I am home.  Here is home."

I've never been a poet but I try to make him 
understand by putting my hand on his 
breastbone.  His heartbeat is faster under my 
ear.

"Scully, I'm sorry you got hurt but I want you to 
know that I'm glad... I'm so grateful you didn't 
spend your life with him." 

I know Mulder.  It's hard to do this dance - one 
step forward, two steps back.  Meaningless 
words conveying meaning.  I know - I'll help 
you.  Together we'll teach and learn. 

"All the moments of our lives have led to this 
moment, Mulder, this destination.  And from 
now on, those moments won't be just yours or 
mine.  They'll be ours."

Mulder shifts lower in the bed, pulling me 
closer until we're eye-to-eye and our bodies are 
flush against each other.  I take the opportunity 
to brush my thumb over his soft lower lip.  So 
serious.  I lift my hand and sooth the worry lines 
on his forehead.  No more worries love.  Not 
about this.

"Scully, I promise that all the moments in my 
life belong to you."

So we seal our vows the way all vows are sealed 
- with a kiss...
 
Or maybe even this way:

So what's a little electronic theft, magical 
misdirection and good old fashioned 
decapitation?  Sometimes it's just good to get 
into the California sun.

I look at my partner's flushed and happy face.  
"Having fun Scully?"

"Oh yeah," she replies, getting her second wind.  
"I want to do the Tilt-a-Whirl again."

"But Scully, I wanted to eat this cotton candy.  
Or maybe you could do that hand twisting trick 
again."

"Later, I want to get this ride in before it closes 
down for the night."

"Well, if you insist," I smile up at my partner 
and wink.

"Hey Scully, imagine how much fun we could 
have if we actually left this bed and went back 
to the Santa Monica Pier..."  

 xxxxxx

"...never understood a single word he said.  
Mulder, stop it.  You're just going to tick them 
off."

"Scully, it's poetic license.  It's mysterious.  
It's..."

"Irritating.  People don't want vague 
supposition or an unreliable narrator.  If you're 
going to tell our story, tell it.  Or are you finally 
embarrassed about the way it really happened?"

"You know it take more than that to embarrass 
me.  Give him here.  Three months, Scully, and 
his eyes are still blue.  Hey buddy, have you 
learned your Mom's song yet?  Jeremiah was a 
bullfrog..."

"So, the plan is to write our memoirs and make 
a billion dollars which will then finance our life 
on the run while we stop colonization and save 
the world?"

"Sounds like crap when you say it.  Scully, I've 
been rethinking the book idea.   What do you 
think about a TV show?"

"About us?"

"A loose amalgamation of us and the X-Files.  
What was the name of Charlie's friend in L.A.?  
The one in TV?"

"You mean Chris?  The last time Charlie 
mentioned it I think he said Chris was working 
at Disney."

"That's it Scully.  We'll use the military-
industrial-entertainment complex against itself.  
Weekly exposure to our story will help to ready 
the public to fight colonization when the time is 
right.  It'll work, Scully."

"Once we're on the run you won't be able to 
contact Chris regularly.  Do you trust him?'

"He'll have our memoirs.  I don't think we 
should sweat the details as long as he gets the 
big picture right.  Look, it's 1991.  The date for 
colonization is 2012 - that's twenty years 
Scully.  We can do a lot in twenty years - we'll 
raise our son and we'll stop colonization.  And 
we'll live.  We'll live our life together. "

"Ok.  I know we're going to use our new names, 
but if you're going to use our real names in the 
memoirs I don't think "Mulder" and "Scully" 
should look like us.  I want "Scully" to be... she 
should be a short redhead.  That's my only 
stipulation.  What about you?"  

"Fine, I'll see if Richard Gere does TV.  And 
you're a short redhead.  Anything else, Ms. 
Bronte?"

"Just write us a happy ending Mulder."

"We will, sweetheart, we will."

The End