From: "Selene, Lady of the Moon" Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2001 16:36:29 -0400 Subject: Live, Laugh, and Love by Selene, Lady of the Moon Source: direct TITLE: Live, Laugh, And Love AUTHOR: Selene, Lady of the Moon (GrecianMoonGoddess@hotmail.com) CLASSIFICATION: Pre-XF RATING: PG SUMMARY: Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, both running away from home, meet in an abandoned beach house and connect. KEYWORDS: MSR (?) Pre-XF SPOILERS: slight reference to Pilot, Fire ARCHIVE: Gossamer, yes, everywhere else, just lemme know. DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and their families belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Networks, and their actors. No infringement intended. Don't sue me; all I own are a couple X-Files books and a picture of David Duchovny. This story, Cat, the nameless neighbor, the firemen, Melanie and Tobias (the 2 EMTs), Melanie's little brother, Professor Sphinx, Celica (the policewoman), and the other police officers belong to me. Especially Cat. You can borrow them, but just let me know so I can know when to expect them back. THANKS: to David D, of course. Also to whichever family member bought the food that lasted me through this story. FEEDBACK: is encouraged. If you don't send it, I will send Cat's tough tomcat friends after you. Send it to GrecianMoonGoddess@hotmail.com AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a Pre-XF story, one that I've been thinking about for a while. Since it's fanfic, I played with dates and made them the same age. Forgive me, please. If you plan to sue, please send me some money so you can get something for suing me. ---Live, Laugh, Love--- Fox Mulder had run away from home. Not that he had much of a home to run away from, he thought bitterly. His parents were in the middle of divorcing, so there was constant arguing. And when they weren't arguing - well, his mom was either high on Valium or crying herself sick, and his dad was either drunk and beating him or at work. William Mulder, Fox's father, worked at the State Department, doing top-secret work. Sometimes Fox had a feeling that his dad was doing something wrong, something evil - a feeling that rose out of the strange looks he caught his father giving him. Fox's sister, Samantha, had been kidnapped three years ago, when Fox was only twelve. That had been when the beatings had gotten really bad - his dad always said Fox should have protected her, or at least been the one who was taken instead. The two kids had been alone at the time. So he had run away. He traveled along the coast mostly, keeping to the beach and traveling south. When he found money, any money at all, he bought cheap food. And when he was tired of walking, he hitched, always moving south. He had lived his whole life in Massachusetts, sometimes venturing to Rhode Island or farther north to Maine. But now he was determined to get as far north as he could. After an indeterminable length of time - weeks, at least - spent walking and hitchhiking, he saw a sign welcoming him to Virginia. Virginia: he thought wryly that this was the farthest south he'd ever been. His dad had been here before, of course, Bill Mulder had been everywhere with his job. But Fox just wanted to keep moving. By the time he reached southern Virginia, he was half- starved, his clothes were ripped, and his shoes were worn through. North Carolina isn't very far now, he told himself, but he couldn't keep walking. Besides, it was starting to storm. He looked around for a place to wait out the storm, not seeing any cars heading south, and spotted a big, ramshackle beach house that looked abandoned. There were no cars in the driveway and the windows were boarded up. Of course it was abandoned, he told himself, it was fall. Who lived on the beach in fall? He headed over after darting a look around to make sure no one would see him. He'd become quite adept at breaking and entering with his own house, creeping back in to pick up clothes and food after his dad kicked him out for a while. He skulked up to the house, and slipped his way around to the side. Then he rubbed his hands together, set his feet against the side of the house, and climbed nimbly up to the second floor balcony. That accomplished, he looked around, wiping rain out of his eyes. It was really starting to come down. He headed over to the glass door and tested it. It was definitely locked, unfortunately. He bent down and ran his fingers over the place where the panel of glass met the rubber holding it in. He swore quietly to himself, he couldn't lift it out. So much for subtlety, he figured. "When finesse doesn't work," he muttered, "you use force." He backed up, took a deep breath, and rocketed for the door. "Owwwww!" he complained, rubbing his shoulder. That had hurt! But the glass had cracked. "Thank heaven for shoddy construction in old houses," he said aloud, grinning. In a newer house, with better construction, it would have been Plexiglas. But here, he stood a chance of breaking in. He sent a powerful kick at the center of the spot where the glass had cracked, and thanked the bullies at his school who had forced him to learn how to use his body as a bulldozer. By now, he knew exactly where his center of balance was. A few more kicks, and the glass gave up and broke into shards. He cautiously stepped in and looked around. If someone was here, that should have alerted them to his presence. But no one appeared. He moved away from the glass and left the room, pulling his ripped jean jacket closer to his scrawny frame. The next room he arrived in was a living room. "Nice furniture - slightly old-fashioned, but nice," he said aloud, enjoying the sound of his voice. "Upper middle class. Carpet slightly stained, wallpaper faded but nice." "The TV doesn't work." The other voice startled him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He dropped his backpack and swung around in defensive posture. The owner of the voice was a young girl, about his age, with red hair tied back in a rough ponytail. Her arms were crossed and she was staring at him. "Look, I broke in here fair and square. I have precedence." Slowly, he bent down and picked up his bag. "You broke in?" "Oh, and you didn't?" she snorted, pointing to the other room, where the storm was coming through the hole in the wall where the glass door used to be. "Never said I didn't." He approached her cautiously. Her eyes never left him, but she didn't protest. "Look, it's storming pretty hard. It's a big house. No reason why we can't both be here." She eyed him suspiciously. "You got any food?" "Not really," he admitted, "but I have some blankets. Trade you?" She hesitated. "Okay. I don't have much, but we can split." "Okay," he agreed. He set his bag down on the couch and began pulling out the blankets he had taken from the linen closet. His mom wouldn't miss them; she was too doped up. The girl returned to the room carrying some cans - beans, corn, that sort of thing. He spread one of the blankets on the floor and they sat down. She shivered and without thinking, he shimmied out of his jean jacket and put it around her. It was ripped and wet, but better than nothing. "Thanks," she said quietly. "How are we going to cook these? All of the power's off." He bit his lip and thought. He had no qualms about eating raw food, but apparently she did. "Come into the kitchen." In the kitchen, he found a pile of newspapers near the stove and ripped some up to form a pile of shredded paper. Then he opened his backpack and dug out a book of matches. The first two matches wouldn't light, but the third one did, and he grinned as he dropped it into the paper, which immediately burst into merry flame. For a moment, the two kids didn't move, taking in the heat of the fire. But then she shook herself and picked up a can of beans. He found a pot and they emptied the beans into it. Then they took turns holding it over the fire until the smell got to be too much and they dug in eagerly. "Mrow." They both jumped at the sound and looked around nervously. Had someone caught them? "Mrowww." A tiny black shape slunk into the kitchen, and they burst out laughing with relief. "Cat! It's a cat! It's just a cat...a cat!" "Mrow," the thing said again, and it sounded so pitiful and tiny, the girl couldn't help reaching out and petting it cautiously. "Oh, poor thing," she said softly. "He's so skinny and cold and wet..." Fox disappeared into the living room and came out with one of the blankets, which he wrapped around the protesting cat. But soon enough, the cat was dry. The girl dipped her hand in the pot and offered the cat some of the beans, which it eagerly lapped up. "Is it a boy or a girl?" Fox wondered. "I don't know," the girl said, "Let me see." She gently flipped the cat over and checked. "Male." "Hi, Cat," he said tentatively, offering his hand for the cat to sniff. Apparently he smelled satisfactory, because the cat pushed his head under his hand for him to pet. He winced at the feeling of bruises on the cat's body. "Cat," the girl repeated. "I guess that's his name, now. I wonder if he's a runaway like us?" He looked surprised. "How did you know I'm a runaway?" "I guessed," she said. "What else would you be besides a runaway?" His eyes glittered mischievously. "A tramp." "You don't look the type," she said, smiling back. "No, you're a runaway like me." He gestured at the bean can. "Where'd you get these?" She halfway-blushed. "I...liberated them from a supermarket." He grinned. "You mean you stole them. It's okay - when you run away you don't have a lot of choices." "I guess," she said, and was quiet. "Why did you run away?" he asked, rubbing Cat. "If it's not too personal." "I had a fight," she said, "With my dad. "We said some awful things, both of us. I couldn't deal with it, so...I split. What about you?" He shrugged. "I was tired of it all." "It all?" She raised an eyebrow. "Elaborate." "My parents," he said. "My mom being too drugged on Valium to care whether I'm even alive, my dad being too drunk to care about anything except beating me..." Her eyes were wide as she listened. "I've heard about homes like yours. Never really thought I'd meet anyone who'd gone through that. Your dad actually beats you?" "Beat," he corrected. "Not anymore. That's why I left." "How did you stand it?" she asked softly. "Mostly I closed my eyes and hoped it would all go away. That didn't really work, so...I just dealt. That's the way it was." "Why didn't Social Services investigate?" Cat curled up on his lap, preparing to sleep. Fox kept rubbing him, hoping that talking would relieve the memories. "My dad works in the State Department. The government doesn't want to look too closely at the families of their agents." "That's awful," she said quietly. "Yeah," he agreed, and fell silent. For a moment, they both just watched the fire burn. Then she said, "What's your name?" He hesitated for a moment. Fox had too many bad memories, besides that it was a stupid name... "William. You?" William was his middle name. She hesitated too, and then said, "Katherine." He was certain that wasn't her real name, but was a middle name like William was his. "Katie," he said with a smile. "Billy," she countered with another smile. He winced at the nickname. "Okay, okay. Katherine and William." They took turns sleeping that night, the awake one watching the fire and keeping an eye out for anyone finding them. Fox (William) slept lightly on his turns, too light for the nightmares to come, and was dimly aware of Katherine moving and poking the fire with tongs liberated from one of the drawers, Cat prowling around, and warmth all around. And then, suddenly... "William! William, wake up!" He felt himself being shaken rudely, and slowly came to his senses. "Katherine...wha?" "I fell asleep," she said, looking panicked. "The fire...it's out of control." Immediately he was wide-awake. "Oh my g..." Sure enough, the fire had already taken most of the kitchen. The part they were sleeping on was still flameless, but getting hotter every second. "Oh no," he muttered. The nightmare, the one that was even older than the Samantha nightmare...the one of being trapped in a burning building... "We've got to get out of here!" She was already on her feet, looking around, scared. "Come on, we can still get out the way you came in." They ran all-out to the glass door and climbed through, barely feeling it as the broken glass cut through their worn sneakers. When they were on the balcony, he helped her climb over and then remembered. "Cat! Where's Cat?" She was already swinging herself back over. "We've got to find him!" They ran inside, not thinking rationally, and, breathing hard, searched high and low for a tiny, abused black cat. "Cat!" he called helplessly over the roar of the flames. "MROWWWWWWWWWW! HSSSSSS!" The unmistakable sound of a very angry (or very scared) cat! He stumbled over to the couch, blinded by the smoke, and found Cat, purely by touch. He scooped up the animal, and headed back to where Katherine had gone looking. "Katherine!" he yelled, and Cat added his own vote: "Mrow!" "William!" Almost sick with relief, he felt her fall into his arms. However, the weight of her _and_ Cat was too much and they fell over onto the floor. The only good part of that was that they were below the smoke and could talk without coughing - at least not _too_ badly. "We gotta get out of here!" he hollered. "I know," she said, slightly more calm. She squirmed out from underneath him and headed for the former glass door. "Uh-oh," she breathed. "What? What, uh-oh?" he yelled. Fire had terrified him for years. "The fire's cut off our escape route!" she yelled back, pointing. Sure enough, the flames almost completely encircled them. He started shaking then, petrified and certain this was how he was going to die. She snaked her way back to him. "You're afraid of fire, aren't you?" He could only nod, clutching Cat to his chest. The animal didn't protest, perhaps sensing his terror. After a moment, he worked up the nerve to speak. "A few years ago...when I was ten...my best friend's house burned down. I stayed with him and his family in the rubble all night to keep away looters. For years I had nightmares about being trapped in a burning house." She hugged him tightly. "Tell me the truth, Will. They-" "William," he corrected. Will was too close to Bill, which was his dad's name. Even terrified, he didn't want to be associated with his father. "Fine. Tell me the truth, _William._ Those nightmares never went away, did they?" "Not really," he admitted. He was shaking. "But they're less common now. Less frequent then the other ones." "The other ones?" "You know, this isn't the best place to talk about my nightmares!" he screamed over the never-ending roar. "Right, right," she said hastily. "It's okay, William. The firefighters will be here soon." "No they won't," he said flatly and with utter certainty. "Why not?" she demanded. "Think positively!" "We're out on the beach," he pointed out. "The nearest fire station is in the city itself, a good thirty minutes away. It's the middle of the night, and this house is supposed to be abandoned. They're not going to hurry." She glared at him, her light blue eyes hard. "Why do you have to have rational logic to support your worst fear? Why can't you just be hopeful?" He grimaced and kept his eyes on her. He didn't want to look at the fire, but kept seeing the red-yellow flames reflected in her face. "I guess that's what happens when someone survives my situation." "You must be terrified," she said. "Can I help at all?" He started to make a wisecrack, but stopped as the seriousness of the situation surrounded him. "Can you hold me?" "I'm holding you," she said, tightening her grip around his shoulders. "I can't feel it. Hold me." "William, I'm holding you!" At that moment, a wooden beam crashed into the couch and they both screamed with terror. He burrowed himself into her short frame, tears starting to come. "Hey, hey! Is someone in there?" They both almost jumped and Cat yowled his 'yes.' "We're in here! Help! We're inside!" Katherine started yelling. He screamed, "We can't get out!" "The firemen are on their way here! I'm gonna try hosing down the fire!" the person outside screamed back. She laughed with relief and hugged him even tighter. "It's over! William, it's over!" "Oh, not it isn't," he swore. "Not by a long shot!" She kept laughing, too relieved to take in what he'd said. Cat, as if sensing that it was safe to be brave, hissed at the flames and scratched out. They heard the sound of a hose being turned on and directed at the flames. And then she realized what he'd said. "Wait, what do you mean, it's not over by a long shot?" "The firemen. They're gonna ask about us - that is, assuming we get out of here alive. Names, addresses, what we're doing in an abandoned beach house that doesn't belong us!" Her eyes widened with realization. "They'll realize we're runaways and call our parents." "Exactly," he said grimly. "What are we gonna tell them?" She thought, but was spared answering by the sound of sirens - the fire engines - coming down the street. They heard the person outside yelling about them, then the firemen spraying down the fire. A guy in a fireman's suit charged through the shattered glass door and looked around for them. "Over here!" Katherine yelled. The guy charged over and pulled them to their feet. Cat tried to reach out and scratch him, but 'William' held onto him tightly. The fireman led them through the flames in places where the floor was still mostly intact and fire was destroying at that exact moment. Katherine held William's arm and felt him keep shaking. When they were finally on the balcony, the fireman handed them down to other firemen on the ground, who took them to the safety of the fire truck. William shook violently once he was sitting down and Katherine held him as he began to throw up, the fear taking its effect now that he was safe. He was trembling and shivering and sweating as she hugged him and reassured him that it was okay. An EMT who had rode along on the truck kept trying to check them, but Katherine refused to let her near them until she was sure he was okay. Finally, his shaking subsided slightly and Katherine let the EMTs check them both. But she didn't move her arm from around his shoulders. A female EMT bent down to look him in his eyes. "Hi, I'm Melanie, and this is my partner Tobias. We're going to be checking to make sure you're okay, right?" He nodded shakily. "You're about fifteen, am I right?" "Yeah." For the first time, he noticed his voice was hoarse from smoke inhalation. "I've got a little brother who's fifteen," Melanie continued cheerfully. "He kind of looks like you, only he's got brown eyes and yours are hazel. What's your name?" "W-William," he stuttered. "William, that's a good name. Now, I want you to look at me, okay, William? I want to look at your eyes. See, sometimes we can tell if something's wrong by how big your pupils are." She shined a flashlight in his eyes. "Nope, yours seem to be about regulation size." She laughed and he laughed too, weakly and without humor. He glanced over at Katherine. "Oh, Tobias is going to take care of your girlfriend," Melanie assured him. "She's not my girlfriend," he said, and he chastised himself for saying something so dumb. She wasn't paying attention. "Can you say 'ahh' for me?" He complied and she looked down his throat. "You're a little red - that's to be expected from smoke inhalation - but otherwise okay." Next she checked his arms and legs for burns, rolling up his jeans and slipping off his worn sneakers. "Well, William, you seem okay. I'm going to get you something to drink. If something feels wrong, you just tell me, okay? Or you can tell Tobias or any of the firemen." He nodded and she left, along with her partner. He still couldn't stop shaking. Katherine pulled his jean jacket off from around her and wrapped it around him, and then just held him as he cried into her shoulder. When he pulled away, smiling sheepishly and wiping his now- red eyes, she was looking at him compassionately. He said, "I can't believe I was so scared. I couldn't move." "You couldn't help being scared," she said. He rubbed his arms. "They're going to call my dad." "They'll probably call my mom," she agreed. "I don't want them to call my dad," he said, and coughed. Suddenly, he couldn't stop coughing, and his already-too skinny frame shook with the effort. He felt like he was going to cough up a lung. Katherine kept her arms around him as he coughed, and with her glare kept the EMTs at bay. At last, the coughs abated, and he was able to sit back up, even more embarrassed. She ignored it and said, "You don't want them to call your dad. Maybe they'll reach your mom." "She won't answer the phone," he said, feeling helpless. "She won't even hear it ring. The Valium." "Right," she said softly. "Do you have anyone else you could call?" "No. My grandfather is in England. Other than that, I don't have any relatives." Except Samantha, his mind added harshly. But that way lay madness, he told himself. "What about close friends?" He shook his head, his mind blank. "Not since I was twelve. Wait!" Something occurred to him. "Um, there's a woman I go to sometimes, we hang out." "Okay," she said. A firefighter came over carrying a clipboard. "Can I get your names, addresses, that sort of thing?" They exchanged a look. For some reason, neither of them wanted the other to know their real names. Katherine stood up, gently pulling her arm out from around him. "Can we do this separately?" She and the fireman walked off. Somehow, Fox William Mulder had never felt more alone. After a few moments, another fireman came over and got his information. He gave his name and Professor Sphinx's address and phone number. A year ago, after a particularly bad beating, he had walked to the other side of town and found a berry field. He had sat down and plucked berries, tasting their sweet, lingering taste on his tongue. Professor Sphinx had startled him, and he had started to run away. But she had assured him she wasn't going to get mad at him and taken him inside her house, where she fed him. She told him stories and listened to him. And when no one else remembered him, she cared. They took him and Katherine down to the police station to wait for their respective caregivers. They huddled together on a bench, giving each other warmth and comfort. A particular policewoman seemed to take a shine to the two kids and brought them blankets, hot chocolate, sandwiches, and dry clothes. She even brought a can of tuna fish and some milk for Cat. Her name was Celica. He would remember that name. After a few hours, Katherine's family showed up, the whole group - mother, father, sister, brothers. They all looked panicked and hugged her as if they would never let go. He watched jealously. He would never have a family that worried about him when he ran away. No one would hug him like there was no tomorrow. There would be no one to pace the hallway at home, waiting for news about him. He didn't listen to them. _Seeing_ them was bad enough. After a long period of crying and reassuring, the woman - Katherine's mother - approached him. He was still sitting on the bench, Cat curled up on his lap. "I wanted to thank you," she said. "My daughter said you helped her." He shook his head, keeping his eyes lowered so that she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. "She helped me. I was terrified." "She also said..." She twisted her hands. "She also said you were a perfect gentleman the whole night. That can't be said of a lot of young men your age." He stared at Cat. "Well, I could say that your daughter was a perfect lady all night." The woman smiled briefly. "Thank you," he said softly, and he looked up. The woman had her hand out, and he shook it. Her eyes were the same blue as her daughter's. "Thank you," he said again, "for raising a daughter like yours." As Margaret Scully walked away, the imprint of the young man's eyes, so old and sad in such a young face, stayed with her for a long time. Right before they left, Katherine - Dana Scully - came back over and hugged him again. Her light blue eyes met his dark hazel ones and they had an infinitely long conversation, silently and in the blink of an eye. "Thank you," she said without saying a word. "You're one in a billion," his eyes told her. She turned to leave, but he jumped up. "Wait, Katherine..." "Yeah?" she said, turning back. He gently placed Cat in her arms. "You take care of him. I can't. And he deserves a home." Their eyes met again. "Everybody deserves a home." She blinked back silent tears. He looked so old, much older than fifteen, and so incredibly despondent. She turned to go, but turned back on an impulse and touched a hand to his cheek. "_You_ deserve a home, William. And someday, you'll get one." She turned again, but once more turned back. "Live, laugh, and love, William. Always love." He smiled at her. "I'll remember that forever. Live, laugh, and love, Katherine. And remember me." "I'll never forget you," she whispered, and turned. She left the police station at a run. He watched her go. "We'll meet again, Katherine. Sometime, someday, somehow." --End-- Send feedback, please! Otherwise I'll be forced to use my virtual flamethrowers, my two cyber-dragons Elisabeth and Mulder. You don't _want_ to see the havoc they can wreak on Gossamer...