From: flynn X <flyn121@yahoo.com>
Date: Sat, 13 May 2000 10:22:56 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: xfc: New: The Heart Of The Matter
Source: xfc

TITLE: The Heart Of The Matter
AUTHOR: flynn
E-MAIL ADDRESS: flyn121@yahoo.com
DISTRIBUTION: Xemplary, Ephemeral, Spooky, yes;
anywhere else, just ask.
SPOILER WARNING: Beyond the Sea, One Breath, Triangle
RATING: PG-13 for language.
FEEDBACK: It's what I live for.
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEYWORDS: ScullyAngst
SUMMARY: Scully and her mom discuss life, men, and
Mulder. Continues where More Than A River leaves off.

Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. Don't sue
me. I'm just having a little fun with 'em. They belong
to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox Television.


Special thanks to Christine for a terrific job as
beta. You're my Goddess!




More Than A River Part II



*He loves me.*

She pulled out into traffic. Her mind was elsewhere as
she drove. Meeting at ten. Skinner was giving them the
chance for a late morning. Not like him, but not
exactly *unlike* him either. Things were definitely
been better since their release from Kersh. Skinner
was gruff and could be a real pain in the ass, but as
ADs went he was acceptable. More than acceptable. He
left them free to do their work, and bore Mulder's
frequent tangents with little more than a frustrated
sigh. Sometimes even a little grudging respect.

Mulder. Her thoughts snapped back to what had just
happened. What *she* had started. Her heart sank.
Mulder. He loves me.

Jesus, would you grow up, she snarled at herself.
You've known for a long time now how he feels. How
many ways has he told you? You see it in his eyes, you
hear it in his words, and in all those damn
weekend-I'm-bored phone calls. Hell, you hear it in
his silences. He even told you once; he came right out
and blurted the words *I love you.*

Yes, but he was drugged. It was the Demerol talking,
to say nothing of that crazy dream he kept rambling on
about.

Bullshit, Dana. You just told yourself that to make it
easier to blow him off. To make it possible to walk
away. That's what you did, you walked away, and you've
been doing it ever since.

But I didn't tonight.

No, you didn't. Of all the times when you should have.
What you did do is unbelievable. You kissed your
partner. How forbearing would Skinner be if he were to
figure that out? And how the hell can you face him -
face *them* - in that office tomorrow and not have it
written all over your face?

Shit, the meeting. She clenched her teeth at the
thought. Oh Mulder, I shouldn't have done that. I
screwed up. I've allowed this Thing between us to
endanger everything we have, everything we are to each
other. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Anger suddenly flared, self-righteous and indignant
and strong. Damn it anyway. Damn those mopey eyes of
his, damn his ability to get whatever he wants from
you, and damn that sexy Goddamn mouth. That sweet,
beautiful mouth! A film suddenly blurred her vision.
She swept a hand over her face. Those eyes - the utter
disbelief in them when she kissed him, and the
stricken expression when she turned away. A stab of
self-reproach actually made her wince. A tender
confession - no, not a confession, an *admission* -
and what did you say? *I know*. What a dumb,
thoughtless, cruel thing to say! You know better than
anyone what it cost him to say those words! Mulder
doesn't love, doesn't *need* anyone, but he loves you.

A tear escaped her lashes, tickling as it found its
way down her cheek. She swatted it away. 

What was she supposed to say? She was hopeless at
relationships, she knew that now. She just didn't open
up to anyone. Why couldn't she open up to Mulder, even
just a little? 

Would it have changed things if she'd said the words?
He hadn't said them to make her stay, she was sure of
that. Jesus, why had he said them at all? It was one
of those things they thought to themselves, expressed
through innuendo, through thoughtful looks and
pregnant silences. She'd known for years how he felt.
How could she not see the affection in those puppy-dog
eyes, even when they were full of anger or frustration
or reproach? How could he not see it in hers? Why was
it necessary even to think them? Had saying those
three words ever accomplished anything in her life? Oh
sure, she'd said them to Mom and Missy and even Bill,
but they were family. What about someone else? When
had she ever felt comfortable telling a man how she
felt?

A hard sigh shook her. There's the rub, she realized.
This isn't just about Mulder and what he said. What he
feels. This is about you. Your belief that it's easier
not to want than want something and not get it.
Perfect and safe, isn't it: the ultimate recipe for
loneliness. You've always been a loner, haven't you -
and ever since Jack it's only gotten worse. You've
systematically cut yourself off from any chance of
getting hurt again, and what have you gained? He's
your best friend, and you can't even tell him. So what
that he knows? Mulder suffers from an inferiority
complex the size of this city - your silence only
justifies that self-contempt. Would it have hurt so
Goddamn much to tell him a little of how he made you
feel tonight? You tell him plenty when he pisses you
off - why couldn't you just say those words back to
him? Chicken-shit. That's what you are - Dana Scully,
Special Agent and total fucking coward!

There was no way she could handle the meeting. She
couldn't possibly face him now. He'd understand. That
thought made her smile bitterly. Like hell he would,
but he'd accept it without much of an argument. She'd
call Skinner in the morning and beg off. He'd make do
with a verbal report. It wasn't like she made a habit
out of dodging. But it would wait until tomorrow.
Right now she just wanted to get home and crawl into
bed. Alone. Cry if she had to. Alone. She didn't need
anyone to dry her fucking tears.

She didn't need. She didn't.

*Keep telling yourself that, Dana. You might start
believing it someday.*

Home. She frowned as she noticed for the first time
that she was nowhere near her neighborhood. Shit, she
hated it when she zoned out. Of course, she was
heading to Maryland. To Mom. Dana's in trouble, let's
run and tell Mommy about it. She'll make us feel all
better about ourselves. 

The front porch light was on, of course; the big brass
fixture that was shaped like the wheel of a ship. Ahab
never could get the sea out of his blood. She eyed it
miserably as she mounted the walkway steps. Even with
all the time he spent out to sea, her parents had a
good marriage. She didn't have Mulder's excuse; he'd
never known anything but a dysfunctional family life.
Why couldn't she let herself feel a little of what her
parents had had?

Maggie beamed at her and immediately engulfed her in a
hug. "Honey, what are you doing here? Is everything
all right? Come in, it's getting cold." She drew her
in and looked her up and down, bemused. "Dana, why are
you dressed like that? You look like a college student
again."

Scully flushed as she ran her hands unconsciously down
her sides. "Oh, I just got back from a case. Mulder
loaned these to me so I . . . " Her voice trailed off,
and she was horrified to feel the tears gathering in
her eyes again. "God, Mom, I didn't have anywhere to
go. I guess it's just habit, coming here when I can't
stand myself."

Maggie caught an arm around her shoulders and steered
her into the kitchen. "Wait a minute. Come in here and
sit down. What's going on? Are you in trouble? What's
happened?"

The alarm in her tone was unmistakable, making Scully
feel even worse. Great, now she was upsetting her
mother, too. "No, it's nothing. I mean, it's not
nothing, but it's not important. I mean, it's
personal. Nothing to do with work. Well, not much. Oh
shit, I don't know." She smiled contritely, ashamed
for the vulgarity. It wasn't like her to swear.

Maggie waved her away as she stooped to dig in a
cupboard. "Honey, I married one sailor and raised two
others. You can't come up with a term I haven't heard.
Or used." She rose and set the bottle on the counter,
then produced two short glasses from another cupboard
and filled them half-way. "Here. You look like you
need something stronger than tea. Go on. Tell me
what's going on. And don't say it's nothing. You
wouldn't have driven all the way over here at this
time of night if it were nothing."

Scully shook her head as she picked up the highball.
Where to start? "It's Mulder," she said miserably.
"Again. No, he's fine. He got hurt on this last case -
the stupid mule he was riding flipped out, and he
sprained his ankle in the fall."

Maggie smiled into her glass. "Fox never did strike me
as the animal type," she said quietly.

"No kidding." She took a sip of the liquor, dropping
her gaze. Jesus, she couldn't even meet her mother's
eyes. This really was bad.

Leave it to Mom. "Tell me, Dana. What's going on with
Fox?"

She sighed and shrank in on herself. "He told me
tonight . . . he told me something. He told me he
loves me." She glanced up uncertainly.

Maggie was smiling. Again. "That's not much of a
surprise, dear. You must have known."

It was Scully's turn to wave impatiently. "Of course.
I've known for years. That's not the point. It - it's
simply something we've never discussed. Not remotely.
It's like if we never mentioned it, then . . . "

"Then you wouldn't have to deal with it."

She took another sip. "Something like that."

"And what did you say when he came out with this
stunning revelation?"

Scully shuddered. "I know."

Maggie blinked. "I know you know. What did you say?"

She didn't look at her. "That is what I said. 'I
know.'"	

The woman's mouth fell open for an instant. She took a
quick sip. "Oh."

Scully looked at her sharply. "Oh. That's all you've
got to say?"

Maggie shrugged one shoulder. "You're doing a good job
of punishing yourself. You don't need me to do it for
you."

Scully glanced away again. Her cheeks were flaming,
she could feel it. "That isn't all." She closed her
eyes, summoning her courage. Just say the words. Mom
won't judge - well, not too harshly. Say the fucking
words. "I kissed him. Before he said it. Before he
told me." Surely her mother would react at that.
Surely she would be shocked, or angered, or amused.
She didn't know which she'd prefer, a scolding or a
snicker. One would be embarrassing, but the other
would just plain hurt.

But Maggie said nothing, merely looked at her calmly.
"And?" 

Scully blinked and looked away. "It was quite a kiss,
Mom. Quite a few of them. God, it was so . . . " She
struggled to find words, and failed. "Nice. It was
nice."

Nice, Dana? Nice is when he brings you back a bagel
and coffee, light. Nice is when he loans you a pair of
clean sweats so you can take a shower and feel halfway
decent. What happened tonight was not *nice*. It was
sweet and tender and sensual, and you diminish it with
those stupid, lukewarm terms.

They were silent for a long moment as they each drank
their brandy. Without a word Maggie unstopped the
bottle and filled the glasses again, then recorked it
and put it away. No getting drunk over this one. It
wasn't worth it. She glanced at her daughter as she
straightened. God, it was difficult not to laugh.
Great oaks from little acorns. Mountains and
molehills. She'd seen the two of them together. Back
in the dark days when she'd first met the man, and
those were black days indeed, even then she could see
that what he felt for her daughter was much more than
what the Bureau sanctioned between partners. When Dana
was returned and miraculously recovered, she saw those
feelings reciprocated. Was it love? It was tender and
respectful. Tentative and utterly non-verbal, but
strong. Dana's illness had only solidified that.
Platonic love, to be sure, but love nonetheless. 

Platonic love no more, it seemed. Carefully she laid a
hand on her daughter's arm. "Honey, I don't mean to
belittle your feelings, but I think you're making more
of this than there really is." She held up a hand when
Scully looked at her sharply. "Spare me the daggers.
Your father was much better at it than you." She
sighed and swirled her glass thoughtfully. "You
kissed. He said he loves you. Dana, forgive me for
asking, but why are you here?"

Scully dropped her head onto her folded arms and
sighed. "I don't know what to say to him. I don't know
. . . I know how I feel, but I can't seem to find any
way to express it to him."

"You love him, don't you?"

She rocked her head from side to side. "Well, yeah. I
do. I just can't . . . It would have made him feel so
good to hear me say it, but I didn't. It's like it
didn't even occur to me. God, I just stood there like
a dumbshit and said 'I know.' Like he was reminding me
it's time to get my taxes done." She heaved a shaky
sigh. "We have a debriefing in the morning. I just...
I can't face him right now. God, the look in his eyes
. . . I mean, we've never kissed. Well there was once,
but it wasn't much. I mean, it was nice, but not . . .
not like this . . . and then suddenly we were making
out like a couple of kids . . . God, he's my friend,
and he's probably sitting there right now racked with
guilt because he thinks he let me down. Like he's the
one who was going to blow what we have out of the
water for the sake of a good screw. God, I'm sorry, I
know this must be embarrassing for you."

Maggie hid her smile behind her hand. *If I'm the one
who's supposed to be embarrassed, why are you the one
playing ostrich?* She prudently kept the thought to
herself. Try another angle. "Honey, I'm not
embarrassed. I just really don't see the problem."

*Or do I? You didn't tell him because you can't find
the words. To say it would make it too real. Too
immediate.*  She frowned. "Dana, tell me again what
the Bureau's take is on these matters. Between
partners, I mean. Is this anything you might get into
real trouble for?"

Scully snorted softly. "Relations are not encouraged,
but it's known and accepted that the conditions that
make for a solid partnership can lead to deeper
involvements. Besides, half the section's taking bets
that Mulder and I are already sexually involved. It's
been a favorite topic of discussion for years now. I
wouldn't mind some of that money myself, if there were
any objective way I could prove that nothing's ever
happened. Well, until tonight."

Maggie looked at her intently, all humor gone now. "So
what's stopping you?"

She looked up in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if there's no threat of reprisal, and it's
clear you're both . . . I'm not encouraging anything,
honey - I'm merely asking. What's stopping you? You
trust him, don't you?"

"Only with my life, Mom."

"Fair enough. And you're fond of him, right?"

Scully smirked. "If he didn't have that lip before
tonight, he'd certainly have one now. Yeah, I'm fond
of him."

Maggie leaned forward intently. "Tell me something,
sweetheart: what provoked this in the first place? Why
tonight? Why after so long?"

Scully was silent for a long moment, her eyes distant
as she gave the matter serious thought. She could feel
his mouth on hers, opening and asking and giving, and
tasting so damn good she just want to consume every
last bit of him . . . She bit her lips together hard
enough to turn them white. "I guess . . . I guess it's
like I told him. I'm tired of telling myself it wasn't
something I wanted." She sighed and her shoulders
slumped again. 

"So what's stopping you?"

Her head snapped up, and her eyes were like blue
stones. "Dammit, Mom, quit asking me that. I don't
know what's stopping me! It's been with me my whole
damn life, this inability to let go and just *be*. I
don't know why. Personally I think I'm just a coward.
A spineless, heartless coward. I mean, Mulder's had
the balls to say it not once but twice, and after I
all but laughed at him the first time."

Maggie stared at her, wide-eyed. "Honey, you didn't."

"Didn't I. Last year in Bermuda, after we found the
little creep floating in the wreckage of his boat. It
was no big deal, really. I mean, what's a little CPR
between friends? Thank God it was November. The water
was cold enough to keep his brain from turning to
jello. So he wakes up in the fucking hospital, and he
was babbling about some damn hallucination. Nazis and
a body double, and a ship named the Queen Anne. He was
on a hefty dose of Demerol - Langely and I broke a
couple of his ribs getting his heart started again. He
was lying in that bed, and he called me back to him
and said 'I love you.' Just like that. 'Scully, I love
you.' And what did I say? Not 'I love you, too.' Oh
no, not me. Not even 'You ditched me again, you
goddamned shit.' I rolled my eyes and I said 'Oh,
brother.' And I walked away." She clenched her fist
and slammed it down on the counter, hard enough to
make the glasses - and her mother - give a little
leap. "He's so goddamn good at getting into trouble.
Forever running off to tilt at his windmills, leaving
good old Sancho Panza standing on the sidelines with
the stretcher and crash cart. You know what they say
about all the king's horses, right? Someday Humpty
Dumpty is gonna get himself into a situation I can't
fix. Someday he's going over that wall, and I'm not
even going to know where he went."

And therein lies the problem, Maggie thought to
herself. She doesn't want to control him. She doesn't
truly want to stop him from being who he is - she just
doesn't want to mourn him when he's gone. When he
dies.

They were silent for a long while. As it frequently
happened though, Scully's thoughts had followed the
same path as her mother's, and had reached very much
the same conclusion. "I *am* a coward," she said
quietly, with conviction. "He's a pig and a child and
a complicated, tortured, beautiful man all rolled into
one package. It's a nice package as those things go,
but it's what's inside that has me by the
heartstrings." She looked at her mother with dull
eyes. "I'm afraid to love him for fear of losing him.
That's it, isn't it."

It wasn't a question.

Gently Maggie reached out and covered her daughter's
hand with her own. How often has Dana heard the tale,
she wondered. About how her father came off the ship
and asked Maggie point-blank to marry him. No
hesitation. No doubt. And she had accepted, likewise
without hesitation or doubt. And what a life it was.
Four children and three and a half decades - decades
of separation and nights spent sick with worry. How
long would he stay this time? Will the ship make it
back, or will it be lost with all hands? Will the
world survive this latest crisis and allow her
husband, her *beloved,* to return to her for the usual
handful of months until he shipped out again?

Again, her daughter followed her thoughts, almost as
if she'd voiced them, as if she could see them racing
in her eyes. "Oh, Mom," she breathed. "It's like you
and Dad, isn't it? I mean, Mulder would never concede
control of his life to the military, but - " Her eyes
sagged shut and she bowed her head. "How did you do it
all those years, Mom? How could you just let him go,
not knowing if you'd ever see him again? Ever?"

A sob caught in Maggie's chest. She struggled for a
moment, forcing the words past the painful blockage in
her throat. "Well, I had to ask myself something,
sweetie. Every time it came to letting go, I spent a
good day talking to myself. It became a ritual. Would
it be any less painful to lose him after only a week?
Or a month? A year? Would it hurt any differently to
lose him after ten years? Should I have spared myself
the heartache by not marrying him at all? What if I'd
never met him? If I'd played it safe, I certainly
would not have endured all that heartache. And I
wouldn't have had all those sleepless nights, and the
days would have gone much more smoothly because I
wouldn't have had four redheads to take care of and
keep track of." She reached out and stroked her
daughter's cheek. Scully's eyes were soft again,
clouded almost imperceptibly with tears. Maggie smiled
through her own. "I made the decision, Dana. It wasn't
an option for me, living without him. It was part of
the package. You gotta take the bad with the good.
Those used to be just words to me. Just a catchy
phrase from some pop psychology guru. It's when you're
in it for the long haul that those words take on a
deeper meaning." She let her hand fall and tipped her
head to the side. "You have to decide. You. You have
to ask yourself if what you have is enough. Not enough
for right now, but for the day when he's gone and all
you have are memories. Will a handful of kisses really
be enough."

Scully held her gaze for a moment, then looked back
down at her glass. Leave it to Mom. She always finds a
way to cut to the heart of the matter. Well, that's
why I'm here, isn't it? I needed someone to lay it out
for me. So there it is. I have a shitload of memories
now, but are they enough? When he's dead and buried
and all I have are those faded recollections, will
they be enough to keep my heart beating? Jesus, what
more might he give me, if I'm just willing to accept?
	 
	

(1 of 1)