From: Kelli Rocherolle Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Part of You" by Wizard Date: Sun, 30 Jul 95 18:58:33 -0500 Hi all. I'm going to be posting a few stories for a friend, who wishes to remain anonymous- If you have any comments, send them to me at xmsu55a@prodigy.com and i'll forward them to her. To make it easier for me, please either address them to "Wizard" or put the title as the subject-- thanks! ****************************************************************************** The "X Files" and characters herein are sole property of Ten Thirteen Productions in association with FOX Television. A subsidiary of ConHugeCo... WARNING: No explicit sexual situations, just Tender Bonding Moments (TBMs) Sorry. - The Wizard of Awe ****************************************************************************** "Part of You" They had never consciously addressed the issue. At this level of their relationship, neither Mulder nor Scully chose to broach the subject. They simply moved about their day to day schedule, assuming the other would do the same. Wake up, go to work, have lunch together, go back to work, go home, sleep, and do it all over again the next day. After Scully's hospitalization, both unconsciously began to move towards each other, again never addressing the issue. They began to spend time outside of work together. These times usually involved some type of sporting event. Having grown up as a tomboy with two brothers, Scully could appreciate the finer points of football, but unlike Mulder, she wasn't crazy about hockey. However, she knew it was important to him in some way to spend this time together. So she obliged without comment. He always happened to have an extra ticket, knowing full well that she had no plans for the weekend. And the same thing happened each time they went out-- Scully was consistently mistaken as Mulder's wife. She didn't know if it was a natural assumption, since they were male and female. But she did find it curious that they never said "girlfriend," always "wife," especially since she wore no rings. Scully began to understand that they emoted some form of... oneness that is traditionally seen in married couples. It made sense; they spent so much time together. Probably more time than most married couples did. Mulder never made any of these distinctions. He was conciliatory in the fact that he was watching a good ball game. With Scully. It just seemed to make sense, and that was that. He never noticed Scully, only half paying attention to the game, looking at the other patrons in the audience. The husbands and wives. The families. Her mind began to wander to a time before the X Files. Before Mulder. Back then she had a definitive plan for her life: career, marriage, children. It seemed clean cut. Fate apparently had other plans for Dana Scully. Plans that included a rogue FBI agent, with obsessive compulsive tendencies and a flair for pushing her buttons. Scully began to miss her dream of hearth and home. And then she met David. Her cellist friend Cathy had set them up to meet. She firmly believed that Scully's relationship with Mulder was "clearly dysfunctional" and that he was a "bad influence" on Scully, turning her into an "anti-social workaholic." Scully remembered these phrases distinctly, since she had come to some of these conclusions herself. In the past few months, Cathy had made it her mission to find "a normal man" for Scully. Scully thought that her search was mutating into some bizarre religious jihad, insisting that she had no time to date. "-you don't have time because Mulder absorbs all of it," Cathy insisted. Scully sighed, shooting a look at the phone receiver and wondering why her relationship with Mulder was such an issue with everyone except she and Mulder. Even her mother had started asking some not-so- oblique questions. "Cathy, I don't know why you dislike him so much. You've only met him once." She heard Cathy sigh dramatically, "You're right, Dana. After all, having a gun held to my head by a guy with a lizard arm is a great way to establish a repartee'." Scully started to tense. She hated being put on the defensive about Mulder, but seldom did she have a choice. "He was having a hard time, he didn't mean to be rude-" Scully searched for an explanation, "... it's just his way." She knew that Cathy was truly concerned about her life, or lack there of, and she appreciated it. Scully also had to admit to herself that, on certain levels, Cathy was right. "C'mon, Dana, it's what people in the real world do. Go out on dates, meet people, and maybe even enjoy themselves. There's nothing to be afraid of." "I'm not afraid!" Scully responded. A little too quickly. "You're not afraid and Mulder's a misunderstood social god. Whatever. David's a doctor, you'd have lots to talk about-" "Like autopsies?" Scully queried. She was beginning to realize just how much of Mulder's humour she had adopted. "Cute, Dana. He's English and he looks like a Greek god. I'd attack the man myself if it weren't for this silly ring on my finger." "Well?" Cathy was excited and dying for an answer. Scully sighed, mentally tallying the best case against this prospective union. She couldn't really find one. "Earth to Dana? Whatever argument you're going to try won't be very convincing, you know. Consider it an... investigation. You're mission, should you decide to accept it-" "Okay, okay! Just promise me you won't start quoting Dragnet, all right?" "Dana, you have just made me a very happy person. I'm telling you, this guy's perfect!" And he was. David Wallace showed up at her doorstep promptly at eight o'clock. And Cathy wasn't kidding. He really did look like a Greek god. Being on time was a step in the right direction, the flowers were a plus, but box seats at the Washington Philharmonic truly impressed the hell out of her. They talked amiably, and went out for coffee afterwards. "So what do you do at the FBI?" "I hunt down UFOs and genetic mutants," Scully replied deadpan. He thought she was making a joke and laughed. She smiled back. It was nice to be able to communicate, to laugh with someone, without having to *work* at it. David didn't seem to have impenetrable walls that she had to fight her way through. Mulder hung up the phone and turned to Scully, "The 49ers are playing tonight. What do think?" Scully glanced up from her file, saying slowly, "I can't." Mulder's brow furrowed, "It's Monday night football, Scully." "I can't Mulder." Long pause. The suspense was killing him. "Why not?" Scully looked back down at her file, "I'm seeing someone." "Oh." He knew from her tone that this wasn't a passing fancy. He looked at his coffee cup, thanked God it was empty, and walked out of their office under the guise of needing a refill. He wouldn't even go to lunch with her anymore. He "had an appointment" or "couldn't leave, expecting a phone call." And David continued to call, to send flowers, to attend to every storybook notion of romance that she could conceive. She wasn't used to such attention, but she was certainly beginning to like it. They were assisting on a stake out. It was a cold October night, and both were keeping themselves warm with liberal amounts of hot coffee. All though the conversation wasn't much warmer than the climate outside. Scully tried to seem conversational, "Mom said to tell you 'hi.'" Mulder nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. "Did you see the game last night?" Mulder looked out the window, "No." Hours passed. Scully started to dose off, in that nebulous place between consciousness and sleep, when she felt Mulder pull her over sized sweater up over her shoulders. He brushed a lock of hair away from her face and his hand loomed, intertwined in her hair for a moment, then returned to his sunflower seed consumption. Scully continued to feign sleep, but the thoughts flooding her mind permitted no rest. The two had just gotten back from seeing "Miss Saigon." As David pulled the car in, Scully saw Mulder's car on the curb. Her heart sank. David put the car in park and started to get out. He always opened the door for her. "David?" David stopped and turned to her. "Hmm?" Scully was trying to think of the best excuse possible... then opted for the truth. "Mulder's car is here. I think he's waiting for me." David nodded. He was vaguely aware of their relationship, but trusted Scully enough not to be threatened by it. "Can I at least walk you to the door?" "All right," Scully said, "He's probably waiting inside, anyway." David looked surprised, suddenly. "He has a key to your apartment?" They entered the hallway and Mulder wasn't there. He was waiting inside for her. David was beginning to find this bothersome, she could tell, but he was doing a good job of restraining himself. "Call me, okay?" Scully nodded and opened the door. Mulder was standing there, and at that moment he and David caught their first glimpse of each other. Scully stood in between them, and could feel the territorial instinct exuding from both sides. It was, of course, David who chose to break the ice. "Agent Mulder," David forced a pleasant expression. Mulder's dark countenance did not change, he merely gestured in acknowledgment. Scully looked apologetically to David, who placed a reassuring (or possessive?) hand on her shoulder, then left. Scully closed the door, so angry with Mulder she couldn't speak. He stood there, stolid, thinking how beautiful she looked in an evening gown. But unable to say it. He stared down at the floor like a scorned five year old. "Mulder, what do you want from me? I don't understand..." Mulder continued to stare. A millions years of silence, then Scully pleaded- "Please say something." Eyes never leaving the floor, he uttered, "He'll never know you like I do." Slowly, so slowly, he raised his eyes and met her gaze. "That part of you belongs to me." And he was gone. The door came to a close and Scully sat down on her couch, exhausted. Mulder so often had the effect of draining her emotionally to the point of physical weakness. Her mind raced and her head began to pound. She had to think this out rationally. David was the logical choice, that much was clear to her. He had everything that she thought ideal in a man. He was gorgeous, easy to be with, and he wanted to have a family. He was stability incarnate. What does Mulder give me? The knock at her door pulled her from considering further. "Who is it?" "It's me." Mulder answered. Did he come back here to talk? Was he finally going to be honest with her, or at least give her some form of closure? Mulder opened the door, carrying her sweater and laid it on the chair. "You left this in the car. know you get cold, so..." He looked at her, then back to the sweater. "I'll see you tomorrow." Strange, Scully thought, how he almost phrased it as a question. "Good night." The door closed and she listened as he locked the door behind him, ever the protector. There was a pause, as if he were standing outside her door, unable to leave. Then his footsteps slowly retreated. What does Mulder give me? she thought. "A headache," her logical mind declared resoundingly. Her mother had described Mulder's behavior at the hospital, saying, "Dana, I thought he was going insane..." She knew that Mulder would die a thousand deaths for her. She knew he could die without her. She was the only one whom he believed in. Sometimes the responsibility for his well being, whether mental, physical, or emotional, was overwhelming. But when she was lying in the hospital, hanging from the precipice to abysmal darkness, what did she remember? His unfathomable devotion. The scared, well hidden heart that only she had glimpsed. And the strength of his beliefs. Scully changed into street clothes, grabbed her purse and coat, and headed to Mulder's apartment. There was no answer at his door. Scully knew he was sitting inside, in the dark, staring at the wall. She pulled out her keys and let herself in. Mulder covered his eyes-- the light from the hallway shot into his dark apartment like fresh air in a crypt. He was temporarily blinded, then focused on Scully's image. Silhouetted by the light, her visage to him was as an angel of mercy. The door closed just as abruptly, and darkness returned it's cloak. Scully sat down on the couch, keeping a respectable distance from Mulder. He continued to stare ahead, saying, "You shouldn't have come here." She was completely thrown by his statement. "Why?" she asked. Mulder turned and looked her in the eyes, "Because," he said, "It's going to complicate things." She sighed. He was so prophetic at times it unnerved her. "What's his name?" "David." Mulder stood and moved to the window. "Seems like a nice enough guy," he said, half heartedly. "He is." "What does he do?" Scully wished he'd stop asking questions about David. "He's a doctor." "And he wants to buy a house, have 3.5 kids, a dog named Spot, and teach Little League someday, right?" His voice was laced with bitterness. "Yes, as a matter of fact he does." He stabbed at her with anger, she responded with strength. She knew he reacted adversely to the standard conventions of society out of jealousy. His perception of family was so confused, it bothered him simply to consider the prospect. That may be the case, be she still expected him to respect her thoughts on the subject. "You'd put in for a transfer, if you knew what was good for you. I'm only keeping you down." Scully decided to ask him point blank- "Do you want me to leave?" Mulder looked at her, and in the moonlight, she could clearly see the pain in his face. She felt that pain as if it were her own. "I'm no good for you, Scully." "How can you say that?" There was a ring of truth in his statement, she knew, but they had learned so much together. They. She unconsciously thought in terms of "they," "us," or "we." And with David? she asked herself. There was no inseparable unity with David. Just ideology. "I can't give you what you want." He labored over these words. "I don't know what I want anymore..." Scully put her face in her hands. Mulder sat down next to her, and dared to raise a single hand. He stroked her soft hair as she wept silent tears of frustration. She leaned into him, as she had done before, resting against his strength. He wished he could make her happy; wished he knew the right words to say. It was so hard for him to be vocal about his emotions, and it seemed it was difficult for her, too. Mulder could only speak from his heart... "All I want is you," he said simply. Scully looked up to him, with a mixture of surprise and relief. He wiped the tears away and held her face. Mulder leaned down and kissed her delicately. He moved carefully, as if she would fade away like a dream in the night. Neither had experienced something so pure, so honest. A strange calm descended upon them both, secure in their solidarity. They would never be alone again.