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  This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com
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***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

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Lesson Learned: Point of Contact
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, Romance

Rated PG

Spoilers for "The Unnatural"

Summary: One perfect moment. Continuation of the series.

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Lesson Learned: Point of Contact
by shannono


I don't know what's gotten into Mulder, and right now, I
don't really care. I refuse to analyze this.

I'm playing baseball.

I lied, of course, when I said I'd never hit a baseball. No
tomboy with two brothers could escape childhood never having
hit a baseball. But it has been many years since I've gripped
a bat, watched the ball, swung and followed through.

And I must say I've never done it quite like this before.

Mulder is not quite pressed against my back, although I do
end up leaning against him with every swing. He is, however,
wrapped around me like a blanket, his legs spread slightly, 
leaning forward from the waist to equalize our heights. His 
hands hold the bat on either side of mine, keeping most of 
the control as we continue to swing in tandem.

The night is cool, the sky clear and gorgeous, stars shining
against the blackness. The field is deserted except for us 
and the boy operating the pitching machine, and the wide 
expanse of grass is broken only by the red clay and white 
chalk of the basepaths, the bases themselves, and the white
dots where our hits have landed. The only sounds are the 
whir of the machine, our soft grunts as we swing, and the
crack of the bat.

Until Mulder speaks again.

"So, Scully ..." he intones, his voice warm and a little husky
in my ear. "Are you ready for an advanced lesson?"

I turn my head just far enough to catch his eye with a sidelong
glance. "Bring it on," I murmur.

Something in his eyes flares briefly before he steps back,
sliding away from me and leaving me holding the bat. I let the
wood drop onto my shoulder, my right hand balancing it as my 
left slides down to rest on my hip. I raise an eyebrow at him,
and he grins, then turns and lopes out toward the mound.

A quick conference with the boy follows, and then they
carefully tug the pitching machine over to one side. The boy
scampers over to the side and grabs up a glove and a plastic
bucket from the ground, then heads toward the outfield.

My gaze drifts back from watching his progress to fall on 
Mulder again. He's bent over from the waist, one hand on
his front knee, the other resting against his backside,
and he's still grinning.

"Batter up!" he calls.

I give a slow, lazy smile in response and bring both hands 
back into place on the bat. It's a bit too long for me, but
I just choke up a bit as I fall naturally into the stance I
perfected as a 10-year-old, waving the bat in a small circle
over my right shoulder.

Mulder winds up, then tosses one in. He must think he needs 
to go easy on me, because the pitch is so slow I could give 
myself a manicure waiting for it to arrive. Instead, I just 
hold back until the last moment, then swing.

The sound isn't loud, but the contact is right on target. I
didn't hit it all that hard, but the ball flies back out 
toward the mound, and Mulder has to do some fancy stepping 
to get out of the way. I can't help laughing at his antics,
until I realize he's running for the ball, which is rolling
slowly toward the outfield grass on the first base side.

Oh shit. Guess I'm supposed to run.

I drop the bat and take off down the first-base line. Out of 
the corner of my eye I can see him grab the ball and head in 
my direction, and I increase my speed. I'm a fast runner, but 
Mulder has the advantage of both height and practice.

As it turns out, we reach the bag in the same instant, from 
different directions, and I'm sure we're going to crash to the
ground in an undignified heap. But Mulder saves us from it by 
pulling me into his arms, using all that momentum to spin me 
around and around. I shriek once in surprise as he grabs me, 
and then I laugh as he keeps spinning, long after he's regained
his balance.

My head tips back, and I feel the breeze stirring through my 
hair as I watch the stars tumble crazily across the night sky.
I laugh again, feeling totally relaxed and completely free for
the first time in entirely too long.

This is perfection. For once in our insane lives, we have
reached the pinnacle. Our own personal point of contact.
Nothing could be better than this.

Mulder gradually slows, and stops, and I lift my head, still
feeling a little dizzy. Mulder's breath is heavy, but he's 
smiling as sets me down carefully.

And then his hands come up to cup the sides of my head, and 
my eyes lift to meet his. And I realize only one thing could
make this moment more wonderful than it already is.

His lips meet mine halfway.

==========END==========