From: Sneakers Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Freeflight (1/1) Date: Tue, 12 Dec 1995 18:53:28 -0800 Here it goes, piece number five in my "Skynyrd's Innyrds" bunch. I reiterate, they have no connection to each other and can be read in any order. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot . . . Mulder and Scully, etc., etc., Chris Carter and ten-thirteen, etc., etc., Lynyrd Skynyrd lyrics, etc., etc. This one's inspired by "Free Bird", as if you couldn't tell by reading it. I hope I got all the words right . . . my little hand-held tape deck doesn't exactly give the best quality of music and I don't feel like running back and forth to the stereo to stop the music so I can type. If anybody spots incorrect words, email 'em to me and I'll correct 'em. I was kind of in a dismal mood while writing this (that's what happens when the sky's the color of the building around you and you feel like you're in a REALLY LARGE white room. I know it doesn't make sense . . . come to TIUA and you'll see.) Okay, enough rambling. I'll pause long enough to list the rest of the L.S. series, so far, and then get on with the story . . . LYNYRD SKYNYRD X-FILES FANFIC Swamp, Swamp, Swamp, Swamp Music That Show Just Another Saturday Night Sweet Home D.C. Freeflight FREEFLIGHT by Sneakers As soon as Dana Scully opened the car door, it began pouring outside. It had been drizzling ever since she and Fox Mulder left the Hoover building, him driving and her sitting the passenger seat fuming over the fact that her car needed a tune-up during a rainstorm. Now, however, the rain was coming down in drenching quantities. Her feet felt wet and miserable as soon as she stuck them out of the car, and she dreaded following with the rest of her body. Mulder caught her apprehensive expression. "Do you think I look forward to driving home in this?" he asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Aha!" she said triumphantly. "*You* come in and have some tea until the rain lets up, and *I* get to share your umbrella." Mulder stared out the windshield for a few moments. "You serious?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he parked the car and extracted the infamous umbrella out of the back seat. It had become a bureau joke, his huge purple and yellow University of Washington umbrella he had bought during a rainy case in Washington state, but it kept the rain off up to three people. Scully laughed as he opened the monstrosity before getting out of the car. "The FAA should keep track of that thing. If it gets windy, you may become a UFO yourself." "Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," he suggested, coming around to the other side of the car to let Scully under the umbrella. She closed the door behind her, and they walked to the building, careful to stay under the arch of garish nylon. Standing in the doorway, he shook it out and followed her inside. Scully took off her coat and hung it up, kicking her soaked shoes off her feet. "Mind if I get out of this wet junk?" she asked, heading for the bedroom before Mulder could even answer. "Hey, where can I put this thing up to dry?" he called after her, waving the umbrella around. Scully's voice drifted out from behind the closed door. "On the floor somewhere?" she suggested. "Hey, you want a dry t-shirt? I think I've got some that would fit you, if you don't mind an old one." He looked around for a place where the umbrella wouldn't drip on anything. "You have t-shirts that would fit me?" "Yeah, don't you remember the 'oversized look' from the eighties?" She appeared from behind the door, wearing green sweats, holding a large purple t-shirt with a fish on it. "Try this . . . it'll match your umbrella." Mulder looked around again for a place for the umbrella. Finally, he set it down in a corner of the living room and took the purple t-shirt from Scully . . . hell, he figured, unbuttoning his shirt, it's nothing she hasn't seen before. "Ow!" he yelped, walking into the coffee table while he was pulling the t-shirt over his head. Except . . . the coffee table didn't have rounded edges and move when he walked into it. At least, it shouldn't. He heard Scully chuckling as he managed to get the shirt on. He looked down on the table, identifying his attacker as a black pasteboard guitar case. "Hey, Scully, I didn't know you played the guitar." "I don't." He heard running water in the kitchen, then she emerged. "It's . . . it was Mel's." Her voice cracked with emotion. "She told Mom if anything happened to her to give it to somebody that would enjoy it. It was one of the few things she worked for as a teenager." She paused and took a ragged breath. "Earned the money baby-sitting neighbor kids and bought it herself. Mom didn't know anybody that played the guitar, so she delegated it to me." Mulder watched her, unsure of what to do. She flipped up the latches and ran her hand over the scratched wood, lightly strumming the strings. "She loved this guitar, Mulder. I'm surprised she didn't go for an electric, but . . . oh, well. She can't use it now, right?" She slammed the lid down, making the case jump and the strings vibrate discordantly. Mulder cringed. "Uh . . . I'll get the tea." His mind faintly registered the whistling of the kettle in the background. "I'll do it . . ." She rushed into the kitchen, away from the guitar and the memories. Mulder flipped the lid open again and ran his finger across the strings. God, it was out of tune. Before he thought, he lifted the battered Yamaha out of the case. He knew he shouldn't, he should put the entire batch of memories somewhere Scully wouldn't find them, but whoever got the guitar would undoubtedly be happier if it was in tune . . . he settled the guitar across his lap and plucked gently at the low E string. He twisted the peg until the string approached a semblance of being in tune. He went up the strings, tuning them to the bottom string. He tried a few chords, a G, an E minor, a D. "Mulder, you want sugar in your tea?" Scully's voice reached him from the kitchen. "Never mind, I'll bring it out there with me." She came into the room before he had time to do anything more than lift the guitar off his lap. God, he hoped she didn't go ballistic . . . She set the tray with the tea down on the table. "I didn't know you played the guitar," she said, as coolly unemotional as she had ever been. "What teenage guy *didn't* play the guitar in high school? I was even a band, for a while." She smiled, the symbol of her dead sister now coming to life again in her partner's hands. "You just have so many hidden talents, Mulder. You willing to play something for me?" He sat silent, trying to remember something that wasn't loud and clashing and wouldn't offend Scully. "Anything," she said. "God knows Mel played everything on that . . . you won't be compromising the integrity of the guitar if you play Hendrix or something." He bent over the guitar, trying to remember the fingerings. "You won't be offended if I sing, will you? I won't do Hendrix, anyway." She shook her head, sipping her tea and trying to forget that Mel's fingers had so recently been picking those same strings. She closed her eyes as he began. If I leave here tomorrow Would you still remember me? For I must be traveling on now 'Cause there's too many places I've got to see But if I stay here with you, girl Things just couldn't be the same Cause I'm as free as a bird now And this bird you cannot change And this bird you cannot change And this bird you cannot change Lord knows I can't change Bye, bye, baby, it's been sweet love Though this feeling I can't change But please don't take it so badly Cause Lord knows I'm to blame But if I stay here with you, girl Things just couldn't be the same 'Cause I'm as free as a bird now And this bird you cannot change And this bird you cannot change And this bird you cannot change Lord knows I can't change Lord help me, I can't change Lord, I can't change Won't you fly . . . Free bird . . . Scully sat back on the couch, relaxing to the soft music and the comforting sound of Mulder's voice. He would never make it to the top forty charts, but his voice had a reedy quality that smoothed the notes over into one long string of sound. "I loved that song," she said quietly after he finished. "I used to sit by my window whenever we got to a new place, sit there and stare out, wishing that I could fly away, back to wherever we'd lived before." She sighed. "God, I hated moving. As soon as I got settled one place, we'd tear everything apart and move to a different state." Mulder settled the guitar back in the case and joined her on the couch. "I . . . um, I won't torture you with my singing anymore." Scully continued as if she hadn't even heard him. "I don't know what I would have done without Mel . . . don't know what I'll do now . . ." She paused and took a deep breath. "I don't remember seeing a guitar in your apartment. What happened to it?" He dredged up the unpleasant memory. "I sold it eventually, for the down payment on a used car. For a lot less than it was worth." Scully's eyes lit up. "Take Mel's. You should keep playing." He was astonished. "Scully - I don't think - I mean, I think Melissa wanted it to go to somebody that couldn't afford one." Scully shook her head in determination. "She'd want you to have it, Mulder. She . . . she was always a lot more fond of you than you thought. She respected you and kept her distance . . . but she'd want you to have her guitar. To remember her by." She reached down to the table and set the case on Mulder's lap. He ran his fingers down the scratched frets, wondering what songs had sprung to life from the silent strings. He guessed it was up to find out and bring the music to life again. He nodded to Scully. "I'd be honored to have her guitar." Scully leaned on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I miss her, Mulder. I'll never stop missing her." He said nothing, but wrapped one arm around her and strummed the guitar gently with the other. THE END I sure hope I didn't inflict the ability to play the guitar on Mulder (and Melissa) if there's evidence to the contrary elsewhere . . . BTW, if you're wondering where the umbrella came from, he bought it in a piece that I haven't posted yet. It'll show up eventually.