From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Fri, 14 Jul 2000 00:09:03 -0500 Subject: Little Things by Anna Renick Source: direct Reply To: limecityprod@aol.com "Little Things" Anna Renick Story Rating: PG-13 Category: MSR Spoilers: The Unnatural, Requiem. Archive: Just let me know where. Disclaimers: The X-Files are owned by Fox Television, Ten Thirteen Productions, Inc., and Chris Carter. Scully belongs to Gillian Anderson. Mulder belongs to David Duchovny. No infringement intended. No runumeration anticipated or accepted. Summary: Sometimes it's the little things you need. Feedback: Yes, please. Send to limecityprod@aol.com. Author's notes: See below. Me and you and the Sunday paper Spread all over the bed A rose colored morning light All to ourselves Hot coffee and the comic strips Pillow talk and your fingertips Laying down and loving 'Till there's nothing left I'll take the little things The simple pleasures that your sweet love brings I'll take the little things with you. "Little Things" (Vince Gill, Leslie Satcher) Mulder's Apartment 2:47 a.m. It was a dream. It had to be. He was standing in the living room of his parents' house on the Vineyard. He could see Samantha sitting in front of the television set. Slowly she turned and smiled at him, "Welcome home, Fox." As he took a step toward her, the floor began to vibrate under his feet. There was a loud noise outside, like a runaway train roaring closer. A lamp crashed to the floor. He could feel his heart racing. Light streamed through the blinds and filled the room. "Help me, Fox!" He reached for his holster. It was empty. He stumbled forward searching for his father's gun. His trembling hands knocked it to the floor. Bullets rolled out of reach across the floor. Suddenly, the light surrounded him. Samantha was outside the circle screaming his name. He wanted to reach out to her, but he simply stood and watched as the room began to grow dim. From somewhere in the distance, he heard the contempt in his father's voice, "What did you think would happen if you went back?" Only when he felt the tears rolling down his face did he realized the sobbing he heard was his own. Then muffled voices, "The subject is sleeping, sir. We are recording." His eyes jerked open. The room was dark. There was a low humming sound he couldn't identify. Distorted shadows danced across the walls. For a moment, he had no idea where he was. Then silky fingertips soothed his temple and the humming began to fade. "Shhh. It's okay, Mulder. I'm here. It was only a dream." He willed himself to believe. Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her hair. As sleep reclaimed him, he whispered, "Thank you, Scully." Mulder's Apartment 6:05 a.m. Waking, he heard the mingled sounds of waking birds and weekend traffic signaling the start of a new day. He opened his eyes. Scully was curled up against him, one hand resting lightly on his forearm, her simple touch reassuring him. She looked so beautiful lying there, kissed by the dawn, the sunrise reflecting in her hair. His dream seemed very far away. He heard the paper hit the door. Although he still subscribed to the Post, sometimes he thought his money would be better spent on a subscription to the "Sporting News". As far as he knew, there was no government spin doctor or consortium henchman controlling the box scores. And if there was, that was one truth he just didn't need to know. As he thought about the Yankees' chances this year, he decided it was about time to treat Scully to a little more batting practice.... Kissing her fingertips, he carefully slipped his arm free and laid her hand on his pillow. He swung his legs out of bed and moved across the room. He heard the sheets rustling. "Where're you going?" "Bathroom. Be right back." "Okay," she murmured. "I love you," as she nestled back into the pillows. He paused and slowly turned around, but he could tell from her even breathing that she had drifted back to sleep. Standing beside the bed, he watched as her chest slowly rose and fell, his pillow pulled tightly under her chin. "I know, Scully. I know." Mulder's Apartment 3:25 p.m. The paper was spread all over the bed. Scully was sitting next to him in one of his blue button downs, studying the book reviews. Her cup of coffee cooled on the bedside table. He was still wearing the old pair of khaki shorts he had donned to retrieve the paper. The sports section reflected in his wire frames as he leaned forward to study the box scores. He was too intent on the paper in front of him to notice that Scully was no longer reading. Instead, she had leaned back against the headboard and was studying his back, a contented smile on her face. She reached out and gently ran her finger along the thin gold chain around his neck. "Hey." Grinning, he turned his head, "Hey, yourself." "Finished with the sports yet, Mulder?" He turned back to the paper. "Just about. Wanna trade?" He loved this new found ritual of reading the Sunday paper with Scully. "Not particularly." Fingertips traced the outline of his ribs. Still staring at the paper in front of him, "Was there something you wanted, Scully?" "Just keep reading, Mulder. I'll let you know if I need anything." Both hands began a gentle slide down his back. His muscles rippled under her touch. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. "How'd the Yankees do?" His breathing was becoming a little ragged. "Uhhh, beat Baltimore 6-4." She leaned closer as her hands slid forward to his chest and downward. He felt her smile against his shoulder as he slowly exhaled. "Mulder, are you still reading?" There was no point in lying. Baseball wasn't the most important thing in his life after all.... "I think I'm finished with the paper," he managed. She leaned forward and caught his earlobe between her teeth. "If you're sure...." He shuddered. "Man cannot live by the sports page alone, Agent Scully." At that moment he would have forsaken baseball for figure skating, Ice Capades and all, if she'd asked him to. A smile crossed his face, "But I do have one request...." "Anything, Mulder." "Can I have my shirt back?" Her low laughter filled his heart as she fell back onto the bed. "Come and get it, G-Man...." Later, as the stars began to appear in the night sky, he turned to face the ceiling and quietly said, "Do you regret all the time we wasted, Scully?" Her hand sought his in the darkness. "I could, and sometimes I almost do, but I think we found the truth when it was time. All the searching and the answers we found, the choices we made along the way, all of it led us here. Because this is where we're supposed to be." "Do you think you always end up where you're supposed to be?" "I don't know, but I think we did." She rose up to look directly into his eyes, "No matter what happens in the future, no matter where we are, even if something separates us, I know you will always be with me. I don't need any more than that." He pulled her to him, "All those years I spent searching for the truth, out there somewhere.... When all I really had to do was look beside me." This time when he slept, he did not dream. They studied the man lying on the other side of the window. "Is he still asleep?" "Yes, we have recorded several sequences. Just little things. The woman was present." "Were these sequences induced?" "No, they appear to be his own manifestation." "That may be useful at a later date. After he is returned." Waking, the first thing he heard was the humming. White light filled the room. He was alone. This time Mulder knew it was not a dream. The End. Author's notes: I have no idea how the Yankees did in Spring Training this year, but I assume in Mulder's dreams, they always win. I know we have never seen Mulder dressed the way he was while reading the paper, but I kept seeing this image of him wearing torn khaki shorts, those wire frames, and nothing else....