Subject: The Lemon Freshiness of Life (1/1) by Dare Rowan
From: agentdare@aol.com (Agent Dare)
Date: 1 Aug 1997 16:21:06 GMT

If anyone else has written a story like this already, I'm sorry, but I
really truly haven't read anything off the newsgroup in almost a month (I
was restricted to only email cause my computer sucks)

Summary: When Jodie Foster makes Contact, where does that leave
Mulder? Somewhere in the New Mexico desert, and Scully just 
might decide to go with him. A test of faith, a triumph of 
strength, yada yada, and a few dramatic run-ins with household
cleaning products.

Classification: C(rossover), S(tory) and some Humor. An actual story that
I wrote with no MSR, just friendshippy stuff.

Rated: PG  Some religious stuff, so if you are *really* devout (like
Billy Graham-esque), don't read. 

Feedback: Hey! It's up to you! Believe me, I can 
write my own feedback, but it's just not the same :)
AgentDare@aol.com or DareRowan@aol.com

Oh yeah, the DISCLAIMER: Did you actually think I owned them? No,
of course not! X-Files related stuff is property of CC,1013,
and Fox. The minimal references to the Jodie Foster movie "Contact"
belong to...well, I don't know who they belong to, but I guess
it's all right as long as you know they are not mine.

Let's see, did I leave anything out....uh, I don't think so.

Oh wait! SPOILERS: Memento Mori...very minor to Never Again and Jose 
Chung and Papas Chicos (Small Potatoes)
....and Gethsemane never happened!

The Lemon Freshi-ness of Life  
by Dare Rowan

"I have to go," he firmly declared to the empty room.

"I have to go," he repeated, and stood up from the couch, turning 
off the television, the only light source in the now dark living 
room. From under the couch he pulled a small duffel bag, tossing 
in random articles of clothing as he walked about his small apartment. 
In minutes he was packed, ready. He called a cab company and arranged 
for a pick-up. He stood near the front door, his hand brushing 
the cold metal of the door knob, and took a good look around. 
Just in case.

In case he never came back.

But how could he not go? As a religious zealot is drawn to an image
of the Virgin Mary in the oddest of places, he felt drawn to the
New Mexico desert. Not because *they* were there, but like the 
visage of Mary, it was a promise that faith could be proven, if it 
was strong enough.

Mulder was thankful that he and Scully had been between cases
so that he could get away. Paper trails had to be followed 
to use his accumulated vacation time, so he would just use a few 
sick days instead. Scully could take care of the minimal paperwork.

Scully. He should call her, let her know where he was going. For
once. He left the apartment, locking the door behind him, and pulled
his cell phone from the pocket of his leather jacket.

By the third ring he was in the elevator, hoping that Scully was just
sleeping. Since she had been diagnosed he spent countless minutes
frightening himself by imagining her in trouble. Whether the worry
was from his fear of losing a friend or his fear that he was to
blame was an issue he tried to avoid thinking about. His worst
vision was not of a slow, painful death like Penny Northern, but of the
cancer causing a sudden lance of pain that would grip her like a vise,
leveling her. And she would strike her head on the blunt edge of the
stove, the sink, or the cold tile of the kitchen floor, and she would
bleed to death.

He breathed a small sigh when her sleep-filled voice answered.

"Hey, Scully, sorry to wake you but, uh, I'm going somewhere, and 
I just wanted to let you know that I won't be in the office for
a few days."

"But...Mulder?" Scully's voice was confused, the overdose of info not 
quite connecting yet.

Mulder repeated what he had just said. This time, Scully's voice was
anything but confused. "You're going to New Mexico, aren't you?
That scientist who found the signal from Vegas?" The first question
was serious, but the second wasn't.

Mulder smiled. Scully-humor was a rare thing. "Vega, Scully," he
playfully corrected.

"How long are you going?"

"Oh...maybe a few days, a week. I'm going to see about catching a 
flight out there. I don't believe I can personally fly. I'm not exactly
R. Kelly." He grimaced at his lame joke and opened the door, waiting
for the cab. It was going to cost him a fortune, but this late at night
there wasn't much of a choice.

"Are you using your sick days?"

"Yeah. There's no time to file the paperwork for vacation."

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?"

"You shouldn't fly when you're sick."

He chuckled. "Thanks for covering for me. Oh, the cab's here. I'll
see you."

"Bye."

"Bye." He shut the phone off and got in, instructing the driver
to take him to Dulles Airport. With the practically non-existant
traffic it shouldn't take too long. And even though most airlines
had no flights at this time, he wanted to be holding a confirmed
ticket before he boarded the plane. Something like this was
too important to fly stand-by.

"New Mexico, here I come," he whispered, a small gleam in his eye.
In the rear view mirror, he could see the cabbie's gaze shift
to fall on him.

"Did you say something?"

"No, no," Mulder quickly conceded, accompanied by a small chuckle.
He hadn't felt this good since...since... Had it really been so
long ago since he'd felt happy that he couldn't even remember?

"New Mexico, here I come," he whispered in a bad Spanish accent, this
time careful not to let the driver hear him. He leaned his head against
the seat and closed his eyes.

"Samantha, here I come," he thought, and waited for the cab to arrive
at Dulles.

======

Scully hung up the phone and peered through the venetian blinds
covering her bedroom window. Since she had heard about the supposedly
alien-originated radio signal, she had expected Mulder to go. To
join the many thousands like him. She looked at the few visible
stars, hoping for once to find some deep meaning in them like
so many people claim to. All she found was that keeping 
her neck at this angle made it sore.

Even *she* felt some draw to New Mexico. Strange lights in the sky
captured on cheap home video held no interest for her. But a radio
signal found by a team of respectable and legitimate scientists
held the allure of a new scientific discovery. Like the discovery
of DNA, or the first man on the moon. It was destined to be
a pivotal moment in history, whether or not it proved the existence
of extraterrestrials.

She yawned, and stretched her back. She padded out to the kitchen,
wanting to fix some tea before going back to bed. She put the water
on to boil and leaned against the counter, her gaze roaming over
various kitchen items. Dishes, a few knives, the left over cartons
of chinese food, a bottle of 409 spray cleaner.

And all of a sudden, the universe was within that bottle of 409.

Looking at that bright label, with the happy picture of a lemon proudly
declaring it's lemon-freshiness, Dana Scully suddenly wondered how 
one-celled organisms evolved far enough to make anti-bacterial kitchen
cleaning products. Killing the very primordial beings they were beget 
from. Her amazement at this did nothing to lessen the sense of irony 
she was feeling. 

There are moments when human beings suddenly feel the weight of the
Five Questions falling upon them. Not moments when they are between
the worlds of the living and the dead, or when confronted with 
some grand cosmic event such as an eclipse or a comet. They are 
moments when the most ordinary of things suddenly looks foreign.
Alien. Moments that make you question the entire meaning of life.

Dana Scully was having one of these moments. One of the Five-Question
moments.

whoamiwhatamiwhereamiwhenamiwhyami

She felt very small. Very alone. And she felt very determined
to go with Mulder to New Mexico. Because if they were truly alone,
then the universe was a tremendous waste of space.

=====
Mulder's cell phone rang. 

"Yeah, Scully?"

Scully decided to drop the "How'd you know it was me?" bit and just 
tell him outright.

"Mulder, I'm going with you to New Mexico."

Mulder was about to give her a light-hearted lecture on how she
didn't believe in aliens, but something in her voice made him
hold back. He thought he could detect a slight tremor in the
usually undauntable facade. Although it could just be 
interference from the cell phone.

"Okay, when the ticket counters open up in a couple hours, I'll
get two tickets. You should see this place, Scully. People are just
piling in. But I'm closer to the front of the line than the back."

"Okay. Well, I'm just about to leave. What airline are you at?"

"Delta. I like to ride their flight attendants' 'Friendly Skies.'"
Mulder snickered. He could just imagine Scully rolling her eyes.

"That is *not* the Delta slogan. It's: 'On top of the world.'"

"Well then, I'd like to be on top of the Flight Attendant's World,
if you catch my drift."

"No wonder they put you in the basement. I'll be there soon."

Mulder stashed the cell back in his jacket pocket, and looked
behind him. It was amazing how reports of alien life boosted
airline sales. Perhaps it was some grand conspiracy orchestrated
by the airlines. 

Or maybe Ted Turner. Mulder had a nagging feeling that Ted Turner had
something to do with everything. And sometimes, he had an even
smaller, yet more ominous feeling that Ted Turner was responsible for 
the creation of life itself. Ted Turner *was* God.

But then again, if he were God, the Braves would have *never* lost
to the Yankees in the World Series. Mulder grinned at the memory.
Go Yanks. Maybe he *would* get that tattoo on his ass he told
Scully he was thinking about.

Mulder ran a hand through his hair. Or maybe, he was just in 
dire need of sleep. He wished Scully would hurry up and get
to the airport so he could sack out on the floor while she kept 
their place in line.

=====
When Scully finally found Mulder in the animal house that had previously
been known as Dulles Airport, he surprised her by saying, "Scully,
I think all these people stuffed into small spaces have affected me. 
Did you know that Ted Turner is God?"

She eyed him with a quizzical glance. His eyes were bloodshot and
irritated, and he already had a five o'clock shadow.

"When was the last time you slept, Mulder?"

"Monday night through early Tuesday morning. Why?"

"It's early Thursday. You need rest."

"I'll sleep on the plane." Suddenly, he let out a squeal. It reminded
Scully of that bleepin' case where she performed an autopsy on a man
in a rubber alien suit.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing. The counter is open. Nueva Mexico, get ready for Fox Mulder."

=====
Scully watched him sleep as the plane was halfway through its flight
to Alberquerqe, New Mexico. The only available seats for the earliest
flight had been in first-class, but they had so many sky-miles accumulated
over years of Bureau flight time that their wallets didn't suffer
at all.

A part of her mind kept insisting how pointless this trip was. How the 
possibility of alien life was extremely low, and that the rise
of life on Earth came from a very precarious situation that could
have been forever altered by even the tiniest of occurences.

And yet, there was also a part of her mind that told her if ever
there was a logical time to start to believe, this was it.

Scully sighed. She would debate this until she finally arrived
at the location. Hopefully there, she could find some closure. She
looked over at Mulder, asleep on the wide leather chair. Following
his example, she tilted the seat back and gave in to the urge
to close her eyes and not think for a while.
=====

As they walked to the rental car counter, Scully mentioned that
both of them calling in sick might be conspicous.

"Who cares?" Mulder eventually said after considering it. 
"It's a coincedence. A random freak of nature."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

There weren't any cars left, but they were fortunate enough to find a 
friendly couple who were also going to the same place that had made 
reservations.

As they drove to the remote location, the small talk they made
with Jeannete and Bill revealed to Scully that the couple believed
themselves to have been abducted by aliens on their honeymoon
five years ago.

Sharing the backseat with Mulder, she shot him the same
look she had given him when Amanda Nelligan said the father of her baby
was Luke Skywalker.

Mulder just shrugged. They listened to the ecstatic conversation 
between Jeannette and Bill as they drove along the flat and
desolate scenery. First one would mention one of the many "government
conspiracies", then the other would bring up an even bigger "plot."

Bill broke off from his conversation with his wife to face Scully
and Mulder. "Sorry to be so rude and ignore you guys! It's just
that Jeannette and I firmly believe you can't trust anyone 
in the government."

"You're damn right!" Mulder exclaimed, slapping his knee for
emphasis. Bill missed it, but Scully could easily see that 
Mulder was having fun with this.

"So what do you two do for a living?" Scully asked, hoping to get
the conversation away from government employees.

"We sell insurance," they replied in unison.

"Oh," Scully said, and nodded.

"What do you do?" Jeannette called over her shoulder as she drove.

Mulder licked his lips. "We're bank security guards."

"Cool," Bill said in awe. "Do you get to have guns?"

"Sure do," Scully replied.

"Have you two ever had sex in the vault?" Bill asked, his eyes
bright and eager.

"BILL!" Jeannette yelled.

A laugh from Mulder told Jeannette that he wasn't insulted. "Occasionally
we do," he answered.

All Scully could do was hold her head in her hands. "Why does 
this happen to me?" she thought.
=======

When they got there, the twenty-seven dishes were surrounded by
throngs of people. Some were dancing on top of campers; others
were barbecueing. 

"It's like a giant tailgate party!" Bill said. 

Mulder pointed to the dishes. "I wonder if they get the Playboy Channel."

Scully tried her best not to show her smile.

They found a spot to park and decided to split up and walk around.
Agreeing to meet every night at the car, he and Scully walked off,
heading inward, closer to the giant dishes.

"Scully, look! There's a whole group of people dressed up like
Star Fleet officers."

"Too bad I left my uniform on board the ship," Scully deadpanned.

Mulder grinned. Then he stopped walking. "Over there. In that 
car. It's the woman who discovered the signal."

She could just make out the blonde from their distance. She tried
to remember what her name was, but couldn't. She watched as 
the woman's gaze became fixed on something. Scully followed it,
her line of sight intersecting with an evangelist.

Long blonde hair and a penetrating stare marked the personality
of this "crusader." Her blood felt like it would boil,
and she unconsciously clenched her jaw and assumed a defensive
position. One of the things she felt most loathing to in this
world was a person who took advantage of others. A person
who manipulated the weak-minded.

Like this man. 

She watched as he ranted and raved about the evils of Science.
It was this sort of person that made her feel disgust towards
religion. Even though she had been brought up religious, 
she knew that religion could only go so far. It had no right 
to be in politics, and it definately had nothing to do 
with science.

Mulder always accused shadow governments of brainwashing people.
But she knew that the threat of brainwashing was much
closer, and so much more real than the government.

Scully couldn't take it anymore. She told Mulder that she wanted to
walk around. That she wanted to see the sights. 
In truth, she wanted to get away. Maybe find a group
of people that were discussing the more scientific nature
of this find.

They walked around together for most of the day, meeting new 
people, having a hamburger or two. Scully found what she
had been looking for near sunset. Around a campfire, a collection
of maybe twenty or so people were debating about the 
existence of extraterrestrial life. She told Mulder
that she wanted to join in, and encouraged him to explore
on his own.

He gave her a slight wave as he sauntered off, interested in
finding people who claimed themselves to be abductees.
It wasn't too hard to find them. He talked to one person
who said that he had spent one night with a large, multi-eyed alien 
named Mikey. 
======

Scully heard a rustle of material as someone sat down on the sleeping
bag Jeannette had lent her. She didn't move, just continued to lay on
her back, looking at the stars.

"There's so many more of them here. In the city, you can count
the number you see on your hand."

It was Mulder's voice. Scully issued a silent thanks that it wasn't
another guy trying to hit on her. She could hear Mulder stirring 
the campfire she had built earlier. The smell of roasted
marshmallows reached her nostrils.

"Mulder, where on Earth did you get marshmallows?"

"I didn't. There not from Earth. They discovered a new signal. After they 
translated it, it turned out to be a bag of marshmallows." His voice was 
serious. It made Scully's lips turn upward in a small smile.
A large, slightly brown object loomed in front of her vision.

"Courtesy of the Vegans," Mulder told her. She reached for the marshmallow
with her fingers. "Uh uh," Mulder scolded, and pulled it away. "It's
hot. Open your mouth." She did, and soon the heavenly taste of 
roasted marshmallow consumed her. She pulled the marshmallow of the 
wooden stick and chewed, her gaze never leaving the stars.

"I talked to Frohike." Movement. Mulder had lied down. "He said
that they'd be here by noon tomorrow."

Scully was aware of how intimately close Mulder was. "That's good," she
managed to say, "I haven't seen them in a while."

"Yeah. Not since..." Mulder stopped, the crawling of his skin his 
body's way of telling him what his brain already knew: That the 
last time he had met with the Lone Gunmen, it had been about Scully's
cancer. He chanced a glance over at Scully. Her profile was clearly
outlined against the dark background, the firelight making her seem
more tanned than she really was.

But she looked calm. Peaceful. Relief slowly found it's way to
all of his nerve endings. She wasn't sensitive about her cancer.
If she wasn't going to tip-toe around it like some kind of ballerina,
he wasn't going to either.

"Since the hospital," he finished. Silence ensued for a few minutes,
barely broken by someone distantly playing a Rolling Stones album.
Mulder lapsed into deep thought. Then he heard a slight mumble.

"Wha-?" he asked, and then realized he had been lightly dozing.

"Mulder?" Her voice was small, low in tone. 

"Yes, Scully?"

"Did you find what you were looking for here?" She turned to face 
him. He could feel her gaze on him, so he turned to face her.
They stared at each other for awhile.

"No," he finally said, and looked back at the sky. A minute passed
before he spoke again. "When I first decided I would come here, I had
this feeling, this dream, where I would arrive, and Sam would just
be here, waiting for me. Seems kind of silly, now that I'm here.
Why would she be here? There is no reason for that. But I convinced
myself for so many years that finding proof of alien existance
would result in finding her, that I fooled myself." 

Scully waited, letting him speak more if he wanted too. But the 
only sound was coming from the Stones. She took a chance. "Do you
feel empty?"

Mulder made a little hmph-ing noise, and shrugged his shoulders, the
movement causing his arm to brush against hers. "I don't know."

Again they lay in silence, until Scully sat up. The desert night
was cold, and the fire had degenerated into a few smoldering ashes.
She rose from the sleeping bag, unzipped it, and got in. 

Mulder rolled off so that she could do this. He sat, his butt on the hard,
cold floor of the desert. Scully propped herself up on her elbow 
and looked at him. "It's a double. Jeannette said we could use it."

Mulder sat frozen.

"I won't bite." Scully smiled and lay back down. She could feel
Mulder slide in next to her.

"Too bad," he joked. "So did *you* find what you were looking for,"
he said to break the silence. The Rolling Stones album was gone,
replaced by Enya. Strange shift, Mulder thought of the music.

Scully stretched her arms over her head, pillowing it on her interlaced
fingers. "I wasn't looking for anything."

"Oh," was all he could say.

"But I did find something." 

Mulder looked at the stars, then her. With the fire gone, her face
now reflected the moonlit night. Tinged with blue, she looked
cadaverous. He felt something pull at his chest. If it weren't for her
casual position, she would have looked like just another body
in the morgue. Lying there, waiting for someone to perform an autopsy,
the same autopsy she herself had performed on countless others. While
she was still alive. Mulder closed his eyes. They felt a little wetter
than usual.

When he opened them, he could see that she had not moved, her eyes still
trained above her on the stars that harbored billions of life-forms,
or none at all.  Her chest rose and fell, shaking him out of his
morbid thinking. "What did you find?" His voice was rough, gravelly. He 
anticipated her answer. He dreaded it. 

He felt the emotions polarizing in him, fighting with each other like
character in some bad soap opera. His tension was in a direct relationship

with the time it took for her to answer, heightening as more and more
seconds piled up.

"I found," she said steadily, "that life sometimes sucks."

He had no idea how to reply. There was no need to though, for she 
continued.

"But sometimes, it's pretty cool. And that makes up for the parts that
suck."

He, of all people, did not need to be told that life can suck.
But lying here in the desert with her made him forget most of that.
"You know what?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You're right." His hand slipped out of the sleeping bag and travelled
upward, towards her head. Sliding it under her head, he found
her hand and held it, making contact.


fini



do they? dont they? you decide....just remember that i said 
in the beginning it was a *friendship* story :)

"No, Ma'am. We at the FBI do not have a sense of humor that we are aware of."
        -Tommy Lee Jones, MIB

Honk if you're a Florida Gator! Send me an email if you're a GatorPhile :)