Date: Mon, 22 Dec 1997 22:23:02 -0800 (PST) From: Emily Bate Subject: Photographs: Lie In... (1/2) Emily Bate Photographs: Lie In Our Graves By Emily Bate, moorej@voyager.net SPOILERS: Leonard Betts-Gethsemane, Redux I and II RATING: G CONTENT WARNING: Danger! This story contains MS friendship! Nooooo! Run! CLASSIFICATION: Story, attempt at humor DISCLAIMER: [Insert something clever here] SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully spend an interesting night together, and come to certain realizations... AUTHOR'S NOTES: Simple concept here; take a picture of DD and GA, write a fanfic incorporating that picture. I tried it. Here it is. Enjoy. All I ask is that you please, please PLEASE read the directions below. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The directions are simple: go to this URL http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Studios/1071/ftr5a.jpg Look long and hard at that wonderful picture, and them come back to us and read the fiction spread out gloriously before you... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I know I look like a fool. I can tell by the way my face hurts that I must be grinning like my cheeks were in danger of falling off if I stopped. I'm dressed like a fool, too, but if she can overlook it, that's another reason to smile. The more I try to analyze the situation, the more I realize that my face hurts, and I look stupid, but I never want it to be any other way. How did the night even begin? Through the heaps of emotions currently screaming through my body at amazing speeds, I recall the night actually beginning with a heavy heart. I guess my depression at the time was odd because after all, Scully was safe. In remission, looking healthier than I could have hoped for. She was smiling, laughing. Sort of like the times when you brush against death, but you make it, shrugging, grinning a little because you're grateful you can. I still felt horrible, mostly because the world I built for myself, based upon firm belief, unshakable ground, had begun to wobble a bit. Scully's cancer, all of the things she said, we fought for, I was wondering if all the sacrifice had been worth it. I had been wondering if I still wanted to play the game. I was sitting home, alone, trying not to think too much. I was watching shadows on the wall, a psychological exercise done for amusement. I tried to come up with the perfect noun to describe the shadow, without using the shadow-making object's noun or any of it's synonyms. Basically, it was a simple interpretation used to analyze my state of mind. Everything was looking like severed limbs and birds of prey. The telephone rang, and I spent another moment watching the shadow left by a heap of dirty clothing before I reached to the end table and picked up the receiver. "Mulder." I say that out of habit. "Mulder, it's me. I'm glad you're there, because I'm five minutes away from your apartment." Scully's voice sounded either elated or alarmed, the bad connection made it difficult to tell. "Is everything all right? Scully?" "Mulder, I'm fine. We're fine. I'm taking you out." I watched the black silhouette of a car whiz across my wall. "You're what?!" "Five minutes, Mulder." She hung up. I think that phone call prevented me from analyzing shadows and drinking beer for nightly excitement. I spent the next five minutes finding a shirt that didn't need desperately to be laundered. The chaos in my personal life had prevented me from scooting off to the Suds `N' Scrubs Laundromat for my weekly hour of sitting in bright orange chairs, reading people instead of magazines. The only article of clothing left clean in my closet was a hideous white shirt with a mandarin collar an old girlfriend gave to me. I slipped into it just as the door buzzed. I rushed to the door, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, fearing the worst. But opening the door only revealed Scully's smiling face. "You looked shocked, Mulder," she said, putting a hand on my chest in order to push me aside. She marched through the doorway. "I, um, I don't know." Sometimes, I can not believe the stupid things that can leave my mouth. Scully's eyes were fixed on the beer bottle sitting empty on the coffee table. I had been looking at its shadow. Oh yeah, and drinking it. "I need to get you out of here," she said. I merely nodded. "Come on, let's go." Mind apparently made up, she turned on her heel and swiftly walked out of the apartment, flicking off the light on her way out. I felt foolish standing alone in the dark, with what I knew was a rather dumbfounded look on my face. So I did the most logical thing. I played a brief game of tug-of-war with my coat, which was stuck behind the door, and followed Scully out. We walked outside into the bleakness that is November. I absolutely hate November. It's worse than January. If November was a woman, I just knew she'd be a bitch. Scully got into the car and turned the key in the ignition. The radio came to life, some wretched pop song that I had been hearing on every damn station for that past two months. She grinned at me, and said, "Have you ever take time to really listen to this song, Mulder?" I shook my head. "No, I haven't." She laughed, a very musical laugh that lasted longer than usual. "Well, it's horrible. Turn it up." We drove down fairly deserted streets, not really talking. Scully was drumming along with the horrific song, quietly humming to herself. I looked out the window, trying my best not to feel completely uncomfortable. And then something strange happened. No, I didn't suddenly fall in love with the woman sitting beside me; I'd long ago acknowledged that physical lust didn't mean love. And I didn't suddenly make peace with what had been happening. I think I could live to be six hundred years old and never forgive her or me for the harsh words, the bad times. But I started to listen to that song. I mean, really listen to it. My foot started doing a little tap dance in time with the rhythm. The guitar was playing this strange pattern of stops and starts, various notes sprinkled in. The singer hit a high note. I snorted. I shook my head. I laughed. Scully looked over at me. "You're right," I said, barely able to contain my smile, "this is really a terrible song." We laughed together, feeling good, really good for once. Do you know what that feels like? It's amazing. It's acknowledging that Scully is not the woman of my dreams, that there are some wounds that will never heal, that the November day really was a bitch. It was acknowledging those things and accepting them. Scully had opened my eyes. She turned up the radio even louder and turned into a small driveway. I looked up from my lap, which had suddenly become the most amusing thing I had ever seen, and asked, "What's this?" "This is our first stop. Come on, Mulder." We walked up a cobblestone path to an arched doorway. Scully knocked "shave and a haircut" on it, and tapped her free fingers against her keys. The door opened. A middle-aged woman stood there, apparently not to pleased to see us. "Yes?" she inquired. Scully's reply was prompt: "We came here to rent." "Rent what?" I wanted to know. The woman nodded. Apparently, that was all the explanation she needed. "Yeah, then, come in. Harry's in the back." Scully nudged me forwards and I just smiled. The inside of the house held what I suddenly knew we had come for. Rows and rows of tuxedos, an entire wall of wildly-colored cummerbunds, matching bow ties, even a neat line of top hats sitting on a shelf behind the counter. The woman looked us over. Pointing to Scully, she said, "you. Over there is ladies. I'll take care of him." Scully waved goodbye to me, wrinkling up her freckled nose and pushing through a set of thick red velvet curtains. The woman's attention suddenly turned to me. She was heavyset, had dark, short, obviously permed hair, little beady eyes. As I was taking her in, she was staring at my shirt. I looked down on it, thinking maybe it had pizza stains or something, but it was just a hideously ugly white shirt. That's all. After a moment's more contemplation, she said, "yeah. That'll work. I think you'll be set up in a white tux. It'll look real nice. Damn good-looking man." I felt as if she wasn't even talking to me, like she had been having a wonderful private conversation in her head, and she had forgotten that she was speaking out loud. She disappeared behind some racks, returning a moment later with a white jacket and pant set. She held them up and looked at me again. "Yeah, these are it. Come here." I got into the tux and came back out into the main room. There was a three-paneled mirror on the wall and I looked at my reflection. Yeah, I was all right. Damn good-looking man. I grinned. Scully came into the room, or rather came tripping in. She was hopping on one foot, trying to put on her other high heel. She finally succeeded and stood upright, trying to brush her fiery hair out of her face. The moment that we both looked at each other, I don't think either of us could have spoken. I don't think either of us could have breathed. She was beautiful. She was wearing a long, pale green dress with medium sized straps and no back. All of that lovely white skin. It practically called my name. She was wearing very little make up, her freckles stood out on her nose and her hair was a halo around her head. There were a few strands by her lips, and they moved as she exhaled slowly. I tried to look cool as I walked towards her. I put a hand on that delicate face, tenderly brushing the hair aside. Her breathing was ragged. "Let's go," I said. For once, feeling as if I had a little control in the evening. END OF PART I Comments? Hate mail? moorej@voyager.net Photographs: Lie In Our Graves By Emily Bate, moorej@voyager.net SPOILERS: Leonard Betts-Gethsemane, Redux I and II RATING: G CONTENT WARNING: Danger! This story contains MS friendship! Nooooo! Run! CLASSIFICATION: Story, attempt at humor DISCLAIMER: [Insert something clever here] SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully spend an interesting night together, and come to certain realizations... AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm sending out the next one of these as soon as I finish it up. And it'll be weird, people... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Photographs: Lie In Our Graves Emily Bate For once, feeling as if I had a little control in the evening. We paid the woman, promised to have the clothing back by the next day, and ran out to the car, exhilarated and anxious to live. I drove this time, pointing out tiny details to Scully as we cruised through town. It was Scully, however, who spotted the limousine service. "Look! Mulder! Let's go in, please?" I gladly obliged and turned into a parking lot in front of the limousine office. Would you call it an office? I have no better word for it. We went inside and stood in front of an empty receptionist's desk for exactly three seconds before Scully went poking into the back rooms. She produced a secretary of sorts, who spent the next five minutes trying to convince us that we couldn't just come in and command up a limousine. "But we just got married." I said. "And our limousine driver didn't show up." Scully chimed in. The woman did not seemed thoroughly convinced. "Where are your rings?" Scully bit her lower lip. "We were actually going to get married on the bridge, and so our rings were in the car. But when the driver never showed up, we-we had to go to city hall!" She said, bursting into fairly realistic tears and falling on my shoulder. I patted her head and said to the woman, "we should have never trusted our wedding to that other limousine company. They don't care about how many lives they ruin, how many marriages they postpone, not like you." The woman nodded sympathetically and went behind her desk. "I'm so sorry. You really should never trust anything to King Limousine. If I told you how many young couples like you I've seen in here over the last twenty years.ruined weddings, anniversaries, proposals." I nodded. "Tell you what, kids, I'll call up Pedro. It's his day off, but when I tell him about you two, he'll be glad to come in." Within fifteen minutes Pedro had arrived, congratulating us on our recent nuptials, and offering his services all evening. We were off. After a brief detour to McDonald's, we stopped at a small but lovely park. "We're going to take a walk," I said to Pedro. He nodded, and gave me a little wink. "I shall stay here and be guard, eh?" We left him by the limousine and headed to the center of the park, where there was a beautiful fountain. I used to jog there when I lived a little closer. The fountain was curious: a bowl-shaped depression in the ground, the deepest part about three feet down. There was a little concrete rim around it to prevent small children from falling in, and it took away from the total effect. Although, when considered, the effect was so incredibly ridiculous one overlooked the concrete rim. Most people had called the man who designed the fountain foolish, who would make a fountain that went deep into the ground? But no one could criticize him for what came out of that hole in the dirt. A long, fluted flower made of bronze opened far above top of the wall. Coming from the top of it was the water, which wound a pattern around two little fairies entwined in the center of the flower. I could never tell whether they were making love or playing some fairy version of twister. Scully had never seen the fountain before and simply stared at it in awe. I think then they thought that rushed through both of our minds was very silly, very poetic, very romantic, but inevitably disastrous. I took Scully's hand and clambered on top of the concrete wall. She followed me up, and I gathered her into my arms. Then we began to dance. She buried her head in my chest. I buried my face in her hair. We moved to a slow but familiar beat. She smelled like heaven. She smelled like what the fairies must smell like in spring, playing in the fresh air at dusk. I inhaled deeply, trying to imprint the wonderful aroma in my mind. We rocked gently, pulling our head away to look at other things, at each other. I made a funny face. She grinned. I twirled her around a bit, trying to keep her on the wall. She giggled. Then she stepped away from me, still holding my hand and said, "I want to touch them,' gesturing to the fairy couple. "Scully, is that a very good idea? You could fall in." I said. I already knew she would do it. Scully wrinkled her nose. "Of course it's not a good idea. That's why I have to do it, don't you think?" I laughed. "Go ahead." "Well Mulder, you have to hold my waist so I don't fall, all right?" I grabbed the fabric by her waistline. "Don't break the dress!" she cried. Gingerly, she leaned forwards, arm outstretched, the tips of her fingers grazing the fountain. She shifted position a bit, and now I was off-center. I knew this had been a terrible idea. Still not able to reach her fairies, she moved a little bit more. "Scully!" I shouted, but it was too late. I felt myself falling, I felt her falling, and I threw my weight backwards in an attempt to save myself from a pre-mature bath. In doing so, however, I sealed Scully's fate. Screaming, she plunged into what I was positive was icy cold water, the fairies she had been trying to reach as unconcerned as ever. I simply watched her for a moment. She didn't look hurt. She just looked furious. Sitting up to her mid-waist in water, hair hanging in wet strings around her face, scowling. Then it came: "Mulder! Oooooo! I-I-get me out of here!" I shook myself out of my daze and hopped into the water with abandon. I think I officially dampened every part of her that hadn't been wet at that point. "Fox Mulder! Stop it!" Standing very still, the water from above splashing on my forehead. I grabbed her hand and yanked her up. I knew I was going to get hell from her later, but I simply had to laugh. It began as a giggle. You know, the kind of giggle you try to suppress from your ancient fifth grade teacher when you've just learned this really sensational joke about boogers. Then, it kind of erupted. I laughed until I cried, which didn't make a difference, seeing as I was soaked. Scully stood there for a moment, contemplating what to do, and finally, she took both hands, planted them firmly on my chest, and pushed. I fell into the water laughing. Eventually, I scrambled out of the fountain, prying off my shoes as I ran across the park to catch up with Scully. I finally did, out of breath, and she just glared at me. "Mulder, I thought we were having a moment." "A moment? You were trying to touch a statue." I said, regretting the words instantly. "I was trying to fall in love with you!" she screamed, "and obviously, you think that's the damned funniest thing you've ever heard!" "Scully-" She shook off my arm violently and stalked to the awaiting limousine. "Pedro, I am ready for this night to be over," she said. Pedro gave me a questioning look. I shrugged and he turned to open the door for Scully. The ride back to the limousine office, rental place, whatever the hell is was, was long and silent. Scully was wringing the water out of her dress into the champagne bucket. I was sitting quietly, trying ti let her cool off. We arrived at the parking lot again, and said our farewells to Pedro. Or, that is, I said goodbye and Scully sulked. "Sorry to drag you out of bed." "No problem, Mr. Mulder." "It's Mulder. Thanks." Pedro offered Scully a goodbye also, and she said something barely audible that used the words "little [something] over there.". I wondered vaguely if I was going to be hitchhiking home. Maybe Pedro would drop me off. But Scully's kind heart prevailed, and she just motioned, still mumbling under her breath, for me to come to the car. I hesitated before putting my soaking body into Scully's relatively clean car, but she went in, and glared at me for impeding her progress towards a hot bath. We got into the car and drove in silence. I cleared my throat a few times. I tried to cough. Nothing. Finally, Scully reached over and turned on the radio. The same song we had heard earlier came on, as bright and annoying as ever. Scully frowned and reached back to change it, but I put my hand on hers, saying, "Scully. It's a horrible song. Listen." Scully didn't respond. But at least she put her hand back on the steering wheel. I sat beside her, thinking about the night and listening to the song. God, it was bad. My fingers started tapping against my thigh. One foot pumped up and down in time with the drums. I hummed a little bit under my breath. I looked over at Scully. She was staring straight ahead, her face still like stone. But one finger was on the steering wheel, almost imperceptibly, was tapping gently against the steering wheel. I smiled. I laughed. I turned it up. Did ya likes? Hates? Abhors? :o) Well....TELL ME ALREADY! moorej@voyager.net I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! _________________________________________________________ DO YOU YAHOO!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com