From: ""Autumn" Fugazzi" Date: Fri, 24 May 2002 20:35:49 +0000 Subject: Mysterious Stranger Source: direct Title: Mysterious Stranger Author: Autumn Rating: PG Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance Category: SR E-mail: mulders_hunnie@hotmail.com Author's Note: Uhh ... I don't have a note for this one. Spoilers: Per Manum - I guess. But it would definitely not be big spoiler. Summary: A woman meets Mulder in a bar, with the intention of sleeping with him - only to find he is not, could not, ever be interested. Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to Chris Carter, 20th Century Fox and 1013 Productions. I'm just borrowing them. Dedication and Thanks: I want to thank everyone who has ever inspired me. Despite the fact that this will be the fourth fan fiction I have dedicated to her, I want to dedicate this one to Sharon - who's friendship means more to me than I can express. This one is for memories of 1999. Thanks babe. Feedback: Yes! Yes! Yes! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I could lose my heart tonight If you don't turn and walk away 'Cause the way I feel I might Lose control and let you stay 'Cause I could, take you in my Arms and never let go ... I could fall in love with you I could fall in love with you, baby Selena "I Could Fall In Love" ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I noticed him almost as soon as I stepped into run down building. Through the smoky haze and the drunken laughter, he sat there, on a bar stool, nursing a bottle of beer that was now sans label. It lay, in crumpled, ripped pieces on the scored mahogany wood of the bar. He didn't look like a regular, but yet he was somewhat comfortable, so I knew he had been there before. He wore faded blue jeans and a navy blue v-neck, wool sweater. When I stepped up beside him, he didn't seem to acknowledge me. "This seat taken?" I asked, and he dropped his gaze to the stained emerald green velvet bar stool, before directing his stare right at me. His beautifully shaped fingers stopped tapping the glass bottle, and his body seemed almost frozen. "There's no one sitting there, so I assume not." He told me, his voice rich and smoky and layered with honey. Despite the gruff masculinity that screamed sex appeal, I detected a hint of coldness towards me. I'm not usually that easy dissuaded though, and casually slid all five foot nine of myself unto the stool, turning my body towards his. "I'm Charlotte." I introduced, crossing my legs, trying to give him an ample view of my legs and thighs. This man was delectable. Tall with chestnut colored hair and incredible, endlessly green and hazel eyes that were laced with flecks of gold. When he didn't speak, I found my cheeks blush a pinkish color. "You don't speak, then?" He sighed loudly, and reached out, snagging a pretzel from the ceramic bowl in front of him. It was now, I noticed the gold band on his finger. "Not when I don't have anything to say." His beautiful lips took a sip of his beer. When I didn't move or speak, he returned his gaze to me. "I assume you don't take hints well?" He asked, and I smiled. This man, no matter how cold and untouchable, was gorgeous, and I was going to try everything in my power to have him. "No - it seems not," The bar tender, a young man, probably a little younger than me, stopped in front of us, and eyed me curiously. "Can I have a dry white wine, please?" He nodded, and moved away, leaving me and the dark mysterious stranger alone. "So ... have a fight with the wife?" I asked, causing him to snap his head towards me. "No." He said calmly. "It's my wife I'm waiting her for." When I asked him to tell me about her, I was honestly hoping he'd reveal some troubled rough patch they'd hit. Something - anything - that might provide me with an excuse to woo him. I wanted him. I really did. But either he wasn't prepared to rise to my bait, or all the things he said about her were honestly true: "We got married three months ago," He said, gathering the neglected pieces of paper into his hands, and crumpling them together. "I asked her to marry me, after a rather emotional bomb shell," He told me, running the pad of his finger around the rim of the beer bottle, causing an irritating squeak to become consistent. I was too enthralled to care. "She'd just discovered that the IVF treatment hadn't worked. She ... we ... so desperately wanted to become pregnant." He gestured for the bar tender to give him another beer. "So after she discovered it had failed, we cried for a little while, talked, and then I told her I wanted her to marry me." I bit down on my lip, still, heartlessly really, hoping there was something that might give me the chance to sleep with him. "We got married, went on our honeymoon to a secluded cabin in Colorado, where we spent two weeks. At least one of them was spent entirely in bed." He chuckled mirthlessly. "We were happy. We *are* happy. I love her." I barely blinked. If I could have a dollar for every time a man insisted he loved his wife ... "We went back to work - we work together," He informed me. "We've been living in wedded bliss since." I hadn't noticed the glass of wine the bar tender had placed in front of me. When I asked him why he was here, if his life was such wedded bliss, he glared at me. "Turns out the honeymoon period did the trick," He whispered, shrugging slightly. "She's pregnant." I, despite myself, couldn't prevent the gasp that escaped my lips. He chuckled, once again, mirthlessly. "We are both delighted. I'm here though, because her brother decided to kick my ass for getting his little sister pregnant. So I left our house, and let her deal with him. And before you ask, I'm not sitting here because I feel sorry myself. I'm here because I feel like such a jerk, for leaving her to take the shit herself." I swallowed. The door swung open, bringing with it a blast of cold air, and a few droplets of icy rain. A small red head stood there, soaked, her hair clinging to her neck and cheeks. She was beautiful. Her blue eyes were fixed on the man next to me, and I don't know how I knew, but I did. She was his wife. The woman he'd been rambling about. Praising. Loving. She moved towards him with an elegant grace, and placed her palm on his back. It seems the stranger I'd just met, was not as cold as I first suspected. For the second his wife touched him, his tense body relaxed, as if he knew he just by her touch. She stroked his hair, still not visible to him, whilst he tenderly placed kisses to his temple. I was aware that I stood absolutely no chance, when he turned on his stool, and wrapped his arms around her, catching her lips with his, whilst mumbling how sorry he was. They hugged for a moment, before he stood, and turned to me. "Nice meeting you." It was as if I were a passing thought. But as they walked out the door together, I realized I wasn't offended. I just hoped that one day, I found a man who loved and worshipped me, as much as he loved and worshiped her. END Thanks for reading - and feedback is always greatly appreciated. =)