From: BigBlue Date: 27 Jul 2000 22:22:29 -0700 Subject: Natural: The Bullpen Source: direct Title- Natural: The Bullpen Author- BigBlue Rating- G Category- SRA Spoilers- Sixth Season, Tooms, How the Ghost Stole Christmas Keywords- Mulder/Scully Romance, Other POV Summary- "What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies." --Aristotle-- Archive- Gossamer, nowhere else without contacting me Author's Note- This is the first of a series (at least I'm planning a series). The idea popped into my head when I was listening to the soundtrack of "Fiddler on the Roof." In the song "Sunrise, Sunset," Perchek sings the first line of this story, and I immediately thought of our favorite duo. So, it has developed into a possible series of different perspectives of Mulder and Scully. I hope you enjoy it! ><><><><><><>< They look so natural together. Never in all my years as an FBI agent have I witnessed a partnership so close as theirs. Come to think of it, they remind me a lot of my husband and I; after all this time, we're still in love. The way they move together, the looks they give each other. It's like a symbiosis--interdependent, but separate. They don't belong here, that's obvious. The bullpen is for new agents, those past their prime, and those being punished. If asked, I'd guess the later for these two. I've heard rumors about them; he's supposed to be some kind of madman, chasing after shadows and lights in the sky. I remember when he first joined the Bureau. He was so young and arrogant, almost aloof; he was blindingly intelligent with a caustic wit, and so closed off emotionally. He wouldn't let anyone get close to him, though no one really wanted to anyway; they were afraid of him, jealous of his ability. They got their laughs by calling him "Spooky," both trying to get a rise out of him and to belittle him, as if they could make themselves look better. He tried to ignore them, always keeping his carefully constructed façade of the "defiant wunderkind" in place. But his eyes--those beautiful, smoky, hazel eyes--the hurt was so evident to me there, the bitterness and distrust. He's an interesting paradox, that boy; so mistrustful by default, but with just a small amount of effort, interest, and kindness on your part, he'll open up completely, trust outrightly. He was always so kind and courteous to me in every case we collaborated on. I even invited him to dinner with my husband and I a few years ago, but he begged for a rain check, saying he and his partner had some paperwork to catch up on from their last case; something about a liver-eating stretchy man, I heard. Anyway, that was after she, his partner, came on the scene. She was rather innocent, I think, when they first met, so sure that she knew what the world was all about. That poor girl was hit broadside by him! Not that she was taken in by his blind passion, nor put off by his bluster, oh, no! I think part of her took him as a most exciting challenge; it's like when I used to tell my daughter not to climb the big oak tree in our back yard because the branches were too high. I'd catch her time and again trying to wrap her small arms around the thick trunk, doing her darndest to overcome the tree's formidable obstruction. Trying to scare her away from the task only made her more determined. That's exactly how his partner was and is. When he tried, at first, to push her away, she dug her heels in, gritted her teeth, and held on for dear life. What surprised us all the most was how quickly he began to pull her in rather than push her away. Suddenly, Mulder had this beautiful, intelligent, and persistent woman at his side; and no one, no matter how hard they tried, could come between them. I tell you, if looks could kill, the scathing glares that that pair received from the jealous Bureau population would have buried them many times over. But wonder of wonders, the looks, verbal arrows, and even physical blows bounced right off the shell of their mutual trust. I may be approaching middle age, but I'm not senile yet, and I am far from naïve. I have eyes; I can see the trouble those two get into at every turn, the pain that's inflicted on them so often. I know there's something much larger than me going on under cover of darkness; I know the fight that that partnership has claimed as its own. Even now, when they're being punished for discovering too much of the truth, they seem to take some triumph in their small defiances. There they are now, those two demoted crusaders of truth, returning from lunch to the *stimulating* task of several hundred more background checks. My desk is situated half way between the elevator and their "oar slots" in this slave barge. I pause now to watch them. The pair stops by the coat rack. He removes her overcoat, then his own, and smooths an imaginary wrinkle from her suit coat. It's merely an excuse to touch her, I know. Don't misunderstand me; Mulder is the epitome of "gentleman," but that's just his way--he's a tactile kind of guy, especially with his partner. She gives him a brief, radiant smile, and for a moment they gaze at one another (oh yes, they *do* gaze)--that's that great eye thing they do; amazing communication, these two. Something passes between them, something an outsider cannot interpret, but anyone can see the tremendous feeling that exists there. Then they turn as one back to the bullpen, professional faces firmly back in place, and begin to walk down the aisle. There it is again; his hand is always at her back. It's not a control thing, I don't think; more like a reassurance. I suppress a giggle as I see them fall into step with one another; always in sync, those two. They smile as they near me and ask if I am well. "Surviving the grind," I comment, with a tired smile. "And you?" Their glances flicker quickly to one another, and Scully responds, "We're keeping busy." A good answer, my dear, safe for whoever might be listening, but an obvious message to those who know what's what. I certainly heard rumors about that last weirdness they were involved in over Christmas. Something about ghosts. We exchange knowing looks, and they continue on. I see Mulder lean down to speak softly into his partner's ear. The patented eyebrow shoots up, but her expression is belayed by the way her shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. She smirks covertly up at him, and his eyes beam triumphantly. They seat themselves at their separate desks, exchange parting smiles, and dive back into the wonders of John Doe #17's possible drug history. I lean back in my swivel chair and sigh. There's no denying it. They are natural together. ><><><><><><>< Well, that's it for now, folks.....You know what I want....that's right, FEEDBACK! Constructive criticism will be appreciated, flames will be incinerated! ;-) BigBlue ><><><><><><>< "A friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." --Walter Winchell-- "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen, not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." --C. S. Lewis--"The Weight of Glory"-- "You are the call and I am the answer, You are the wish, and I the fulfilment, You are the night, and I the day. What else - it is perfect enough. It is perfectly complete, You and I, What more--? Strange, how we suffer in spite of this." --D. H. Lawrence-- Scully: "He had *big buck teeth*?" Mulder: "He had a slight overbite." Scully: "No, he didn't! And that's significant, how?" Mulder: "I'm just trying to be thourough."