From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 19 Nov 2005 06:55:34 -0000
Subject: Check Your Drawers! by Pattie
Source: direct

Reply To: patfiler@hotmail.com


Title:  Check Your Drawers!

Author: Pattie

Rated:  NC-13

Spoilers: None

Category: Vignette, Angst, Humour

Summary: Read it, okay?

Feedback: Gratefully responded to at: patfiler@hotmail.com

Archive: Gossamer.  I take care of the rest.  If you want
it, please ask me first. Deal?  Good.

Disclaimers:  I deny owning Mulder, Scully or The X-Files.
I deny profits from writing this story or intentionally
breaking any copyright laws. I deny writing this story! 
(But I did.)





"Because if you can't go the distance, or you can't stand
the tune, ship out!  Cast off!  Apply for a transfer. Just
remember this, you know what you've seen!"  Bam!  He slammed
the door.

What the hell had I done?  All I said was that it couldn't
have been proven, no matter what we did.  Evidence would go 
missing, and we couldn't figure out how that happened. What
were we supposed to do?  Hide it?  Where?

That had thrown me for a loop.  The way Mulder hauled off
at me like that and went off so angry.  Didn't he know
I was just as frustrated as he was?  It mattered to me,
that once again, we, and I said WE, couldn't explain the
disappearance of the oft abducted Sarah Wheeler, and where
that chip we removed from her had gone. 

Before we were even able to take it to the lab, it was gone.
Before we could get back to Sarah's house to question her
further, she was gone.  All I could tell myself I had said
many times before: 'We messed up.'  When I told Mulder that
was the case this time, he let me have it, and when I stood
alone in that office for several minutes after he ran out, I
was reduced to a guilt-ridden lump of jelly with chills
running down my spine, and a knot in my stomach.  I hadn't 
felt that way since I was a little girl.

Not only had I let down Sarah Wheeler, her husband and her 
three children, I had failed Mulder. When I found myself 
telling him the chip had disappeared from my room, I was 
already berating myself for not having hidden it in one
of my drawers, maybe a kitchen cupboard, my car, his car, 
his drawers for that matter, and I told him so. 

Yeah, I told him I had lost the chip.  Then, the first time 
he angrily chewed me out, I told him to shove any other 
chips we'd found up his drawers. I replied that there was 
no way it could have just disappeared from my motel room,
that no one could have just 'beamed it out', that it wasn't
possible for things or people to disappear without a trace,
and he accused me of being someone so grounded in science
that I refused to believe that little microchip was of any
use other than that of tracking lost pets. 

He figured if it hadn't disappeared, then maybe I had 
gotten careless, or flushed it, or left my room unlocked 
with the chip out in the open. Then, there came the second 
round.

When we returned home, and I filed my report, I don't
think I'd seen his face so contorted with rage as I did
that day.  When he let loose on me, I cowered. I sunk down
into a chair for a half hour after he left that room with
a loud slam, and then it occurred to me: This time, I was
taking it personally.  I didn't want him to be angry with 
me! Me, Dana Scully.  Not me, scientifically stoic Special 
Agent Scully. Me the person, the woman.

One thing I should say, though: Two days later everything
was fine, totally within expectations, and Mulder 
apologised. It seems he had been so intent on proving that
the chip existed, he took the pill vial in which I had
placed it, and packed it with his clothes.

Yes, it was in his drawers the whole time.

I really didn't mean to make him draw out the apology for
three days running, though.  That wasn't nice, but it sure 
looked good seeing him so damn humble.

Mind you, on the second day, I was afraid he was going to 
break down and cry, and I was ready to resolve the whole
thing even earlier than that, as we normally do, but that 
was precious: "You have to believe I can't sleep when I
hear my own words playing back at me, Scully. I can't think
of a single reason you'd want to talk to me again. In fact,
as much as I would deeply appreciate your help, and want 
you to keep me in check, I wouldn't blame you if you applied
for a transfter.  I'll fill out the application for you, if
you want.  But just don't go. And don't be angry. It's
right here in my left... I mean, here in my right pocket.
Oh my God, please? Say something?" Then, he got down on
his knees and I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Mulder," I said, "Get up. I forgive you.  I spent the past 
couple of days blaming myself, but I forgive you. But for
heaven's sake, the next time you go looking for evidence, 
don't accuse me of letting it slip out of my hands before
you check to see if it's in your drawers!"

Okay, we had a laugh over that. It was worth it.  That was
five days ago.  Wait until he reads the part of my report 
that says Chuck Wheeler found his wife hiding out in their
kids' tree house just after we landed.  Yes.  Something 
about an argument...


                           END