From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Thu, 24 Aug 2000 13:01:45 -0500
Subject: Consolation by Lola Scully
Source: direct

Reply To: xfilephobic@hotmail.com


Title: Consolation
Author: Dana E. Vassy
Category: MSR
Rating: PG.-13 for references
Disclaimer: Once upon a time a very talented man created a 
show that became known as 'The X-Files'. Lots of other 
people wisely secured their legal rights in the venture, 
namely big scary companies like 1013 and Fox.  It is mooted 
in certain circles that the characters mentioned forthwith 
also belong to the talented actors Gillian Anderson, David 
Duchovny and Mitch Pileggi.  It is submitted by this author 
that all these generous and understanding entities will let 
me borrow their property on the condition I give it back 
unharmed.  I submit that we know have what laymen refer to 
as a 'deal'.  How's that for a legal disclaimer? Cha cha 
cha
Spoilers: Erlenmeyer Flask, Darkness Falls, Pilot.
Distribution: You want, you get.  But only if you tell me 
where it's going first.

Consolation
* * * * * * *
Scully took a moment to let the news sink in.  Back to 
Quantico?  Not that she had anything against the place, she 
loved it; but she had felt that her place was with Mulder - 
on the X-Files.  Instead of replacing the handset, she hit 
speed dial one.  

"Mulder.." he answered after about four rings.

"Mulder, it's me" she breathed.  "Are you sure you're 
okay?"

"To be honest, no, I'm not.  But I'm used to getting kicked 
in the teeth when it comes to looking for the truth.  I'll 
survive"

"Hmm, you wanna talk?  You're welcome to come over.  I'm 
not likely to get back to sleep anytime soon, and to be 
honest I'd be glad of the company."

"Well...sure.  Why not?  You want me to bring anything?"

"You could see if there's anywhere open that sells ice 
cream, for example that 24 hour place two blocks from here"

"Ah, Ms Scully, I do believe I sense an ulterior motive"

"Me?  Never...but make sure you get Choc Chip Cookie 
Dough.."

"See you in a while then, ice cream monster." As he hung 
up, Scully was glad she heard a smile returning to his 
voice.

The place was spotlessly tidy as ever, so Scully debated 
changing out of her pyjamas.  But the blue silk was 
comfortable in the clammy night, and apart from that there 
was very little point.  Instead, she headed for the kitchen 
to see if she had anything interesting. 

Finding nothing more than unopened Diet Coke she decided to 
make do, so she headed back to make the living room a 
little more homely.  In the midst of plumping the cushions, 
she stopped suddenly.  What the hell was she doing?  It was 
Mulder coming over.  Her colleague and friend.  So why 
exactly was she making such an effort?  Her subconscious 
chimed in asking if it should be the bedroom she attended 
to instead.  Dismissing the thought out of hand, Scully 
turned on the stereo and searched for a suitable CD.  It 
appeared the only music she possessed was either operatic 
or pathetically romantic.  And she didn't want to create 
the wrong impression.  Or did she?  Finally she settled on 
Bon Jovi's 'Crossroads' album.  A little slushy in places, 
but safe enough.  

As she waited for a knock on the door, her unexplained 
nerves were replaced by nausea.  After she had tried so 
hard, she was effectively being demoted.  Not to put too 
fine a point on it - it sucked.  And any setback made her 
think of her late father, and a pang of guilt about 
'letting him down'.  Had he been right all along?  Was she 
kidding herself to think that she could make anyone proud 
by chasing aliens and ghost stories?  It was on this note 
she answered the door to Mulder.

She must have looked wholly terrible, because when he saw 
her, he dropped his bag and swept her into a bear hug.  
Scully allowed herself to sink into the soft fabric of his 
jacket for a moment, before breaking away to retort:

"You damage my ice cream, I damage you."

With a grin , Mulder headed into the kitchen for spoons.  
Immediately, he seemed at home here.  Easy Scully, if you 
want a house decoration, buy an ornament.  Besides, Mulder 
had a knack of making himself welcome anywhere when it 
suited him to.  He returned, brandishing the cutlery as a 
trophy and Scully ushered him into the living room.

She hit play on the stereo.  Turning round, she saw Mulder 
sprawled out on her neatly arranged couch.  And then he 
took the lid off the *solitary* tub of Ben & Jerry's.  
Catching her glare, he squirmed childishly.

"This is the only kind I like.  I thought a whole tub would 
be too sickly for you."

"Oh, how little you know.."

"I know you better than you think, Dana Scully"

A loaded silence passed between them, with only Jon Bon 
Jovi's velvet tones disturbing the quiet.  

"So, Mulder.  Have you worked out what you're, what we're 
going to do?"

He took a moment before explaining that there was nothing 
else for it but getting his head down, and reestablish 
enough credibility to have the X-Files reopened.  Wire-
tapping was deathly boring, but he knew the would never 
throw him the bone of a return to the VCU. As for her, he 
only hoped they would disassociate her from the debacle and 
let her have the career she deserved.

But Scully could not turn her back now.  Even though 
Mulder's zany beliefs contrasted with her scientific base, 
they made a good team.  Yes, they rarely had conclusive 
reports to their cases, but these situations could only 
ever be solved by troupers like themselves breaking it down 
piece by piece.    That was what Scully loved most about 
their work - it was one big puzzle for her highly 
analytical mind.  Only problem now was that her analyst 
skills were devoting themselves to the proximate form of 
Fox Mulder.  Why did he want to share the ice cream?  Why 
was he wearing aftershave at this late hour?  It was 
obviously a fresh application.

Tiring of the huge dilemma, Scully turned the conversation 
to more general topics.  On hearing that her brothers had 
forced her into being a Knicks fan, Mulder solemnly swore 
to take her to the next possible game.  She rolled her 
eyes, and almost laughed at the sincerity in his 'Sad Sam' 
expression.  And she realised how Mulder had been able to 
worm his way out of so much trouble - who could resist 
someone with the charm of an angelic toddler, and the looks 
of a film star?  Scully wasn't sure she could.

As the CD wound to a halt, Mulder got up to turn on the TV 
("Not the only thing he's turning on" taunted her 
subconscious.)  Flicking through her limited channels, he 
settled on CNN.  Pictures of New York flashed across the 
screen - no surprise that there was something happening 
there.  With the sound low, Mulder returned to the couch 
and   casually draped his arm along its back.  Scully had 
turned her attention to the Ben & Jerry's, playfully 
swatting away the advances of Mulder's spoon.  As the baby 
girl of the family, she was not accustomed to sharing. 

Twenty minutes later saw a jacketless Mulder, an empty ice 
cream tub, and Scully's weary head in Mulder's lap.  It had 
looked so inviting, and her initial rage had been replaced 
with subdued reminiscing.  Lying there, so trusting of him 
was a huge feat for Scully.  And at the same time it seemed 
so natural, as though it had always been this way.

She thought of Jack and the memories that would dog a 
return to Quantico.  She remembered her father, and the 
resolution that he was in fact, proud of her.  Scully cast 
her mind back to the day of the funeral, the affectionate 
touches and warm sympathy from Mulder.  Then, she was aware 
of lean fingers stroking her temple, out towards the 
hairline.  It was the same gesture her mother had used to 
comfort the young and easily upset Dana Scully.  Now Mulder 
was using the same movement without prompting, and it felt 
so different.  A very pleasant form of different - almost 
territorial.  	As though Mulder was claiming her as his to 
protect. And for once, her feminist principles did not 
incite a revolt.

All too suddenly, the light touches stopped.  Scully sat up 
in surprise.  She found Mulder gazing at her.  No other 
word for it, just gazing.  Her throat dried, and not a 
single word in the English language seemed appropriate.  
The electricity from his caresses had built a certain 
frenzy between them.  Scully hardly dared to believe it, as 
Mulder's face moved yet closer to her own.

Their lips met.  

How sweet, how tender his lips were.  No urgency, yet a 
huge release of passion passed between their united mouths.  
The pace and depth of the kisses increased as they drew 
closer to each other, pressing their bodies tighter 
together.  Scully held back momentarily.  The look in 
Mulder's eyes told her everything - this was allowed to 
happen.  Yet she still felt a rush of forbidden pleasure 
course through her.  It was akin to the high of smoking her 
mother's cigarettes in secret, only now it was a pure and 
perfect type of excitement.

Barely noticing the transition, Scully found herself being 
lain on her unmade bed.  As her pyjama top landed on the 
floor, she understood that a change in circumstances could 
be a positive thing.  When Mulder's bottoms joined her top, 
she was certain of the value of development.  When one door 
slams shut in your face, another one opens...

FINIS