Date: Tue, 27 Jul 1999 13:10:13 +0100
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

TITLE: Creative Writing II: Pictures
AUTHOR: Annette Gisby
EMAIL: annette.gisby@which.net
RATING: PG
CLASS: V,MSR


Creative Writing II: Pictures

Scully scrunched up the piece of paper she had been writing on and
threw it on the bedroom floor, where it joined numerous companions.
It was no use. She was hopeless at poetry. Everything she'd written
just wasn't right. It looked as though it had come from a first-
grader.

The poem Mulder had written to her had been beautiful, and she wanted to do
something special for him. But maybe poetry wasn't the way to go. Her
scientific mind wouldn't let her write poetry, there seemed to be a block of
some sort whenever she tried it.

What could she give Mulder that was as personal as poetry, something
she could do herself? She just didn't want to buy anything from a shop.
It had to be something more than that, something Mulder would
not be able to get anywhere else.

She smiled to herself as she booted up her computer.

*****************

Mulder was exhausted. He'd run for miles. Run until his legs had
cramped and rivers of sweat ran into his eyes, but it was still no
use. He couldn't get Scully out of his mind. Why on earth had he
written that stupid poem? He'd left it deliberately for her to
find, hoping it would open up some channels of communication between them.
But no. All channels remained closed. Obviously Scully didn't feel the same
why. Why else wouldn't she have mentioned his poem?

After a quick shower, he turned on the computer. Maybe he'd email
the boys, see if they were up for a night out. He had to do something.
Scully had sent him an email, which was taking forever to download.
What had she sent him? The entire transcript for "War And Peace"?

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. He mooched about
the apartment for a while, straightening some magazines on the
table before the download was complete. At last! What on earth would
Scully be sending him that took this long?

He clicked on the envelope in his inbox to open it and stared at the
screen in surprise. It was a painting. An abstract, with splashes of
colour and words which he couldn't make out. He expanded the picture
to try and see what it was.

There was an approximation of a woman with red hair, entwined with
a tall dark haired man. They seemed to be naked, but Mulder wasn't
sure. He'd never been very good with abstracts. He did like the
painting though, whoever painted it was very talented.

He squinted, trying to make out the words.

"Mulder," "Scully," "Love," "Forever."

"What?!" he asked to the empty apartment. Why would Scully send him
that painting? More to the point, why would she write those words
on it? Was she trying to tell him something? Something he so
desperately wanted to hear?

Mulder grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

***************

Scully was waiting nervously in her apartment. Had he received it yet?
Was he even now on his way over to see her? She hoped he liked the
painting. She hoped he knew what it meant. The doorbell rang.

This was it. The moment of truth.

END
feedback is most appreciated! at annette.gisby@which.net