From: Nynaeve Date: 11 Feb 2000 12:58:31 -0800 Subject: NEW: A Place in the World (1/1) by Nynaeve From: "Nynaeve" TITLE: A Place in the World (1/1) AUTHOR: Nynaeve E-MAIL: scully@on-net.net RATING: G CATEGORY: V, story, H (a little), pure, utter fluff!! KEYWORDS: MSR, RST, brain candy SPOILERS: various tiny ones for series. SUMARY: Scully's birthday approaches and it causes some reflection on her part. DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter... yadda, yadda, yadda ... 1013 ... blah, blah, blah. Bottom line: not mine. The title and Mary Chapin Carpenter lyrics aren't mine either. FEEDBACK: Yup. Love it. Keep it all in little folders, specifically marked for each story. Respond to all of it too. DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, just let me know please where it's going so I can visit. Spookys - feel free to archive. DEDICATION: To the usual, A and J. A Place in the World FEBRUARY 21, 2000 MULDER'S OFFICE There are lots of milestones in life. Some are events and others are simply numbers to which we've assigned some weird value. Some of these we remember with great clarity, we record with photographs or in write about in journals. Others recede into the back of our memory, pulled out and unwrapped when we need a comfortable place to go. What some among us consider major events, others dismiss with a derisive snort and a nod of their heads. They aren't even the same for everyone, these milestones by which we mark the success or failure of our lives. As I approached another birthday I couldn't help but think about these things. I thought about the family I'd seen at lunch. I had used my lunch hour, not for sitting down and eating, but, as I do fairly often, for running errands that my life investigating X Files seems to prohibit. I had dropped off my dry cleaning, stopping afterwards at a little sandwich shop for something I could take back with me. As I had paid and turned to leave a family caught my eye. The mother and father looked a little harried, which wasn't surprising considering they were in the process of shepherding three children out of the shop. The youngest was about seven and the oldest probably twelve. I really couldn't help smiling to myself as I heard the father mutter something about "the wisdom of taking them out of school so they could vacation when no one else was." I would bet anything those kids will be on the beach in Florida during next year's Spring Break. Still, it made me think. I guess I was still thinking about it when Mulder came back from his own lunch. I looked up at him briefly, before returning to the paperwork in front of me, paperwork I wasn't making any progress on. Mulder noted the detritus of my own lunch spread out before sitting down to read a case file. I don't know how long I stared at the papers, accomplishing nothing. "Scully?" Mulder had a quizzical smile on his face when I looked up and his voice held a laughter I hadn't heard in a while. "Yeah?" "You hoping if you stare at it hard enough that paperwork will finish itself?" "Huh?" I looked down, aware for the first time I had done next to nothing since returning. "Oh...ummm... I was thinking." "About?" "What?" I paused, wondering what I really had been thinking about. "Nothing, really." He snickered at me. "Must have been a whole lot of nothing." He stood up and crossed the tiny room to my desk, setting himself down on one edge of my desk, cracking sunflower seeds between his teeth. "Come on, Scully. It must have been something. You were a million miles away." "No, Mulder, really. It wasn't anything," I insisted. He kept staring at me until I lowered my eyes and stabbed at the piece of paper on the desk. Without a word, he took the pen out of my hand, despite my protests. "Scully," he said softly. "You're starting to worry me." I sighed, ducking my chin to my chest briefly. He was still staring down at me when I looked up. "It was stupid, Mulder." I told him, my voice exasperated, more with my own thoughts than his need to know. "I was just thinking about my place in the world." A look, quizzical, gentle, understanding, crossed his face. He stood up and pulled a chair over. He sat down and faced me again. He said nothing but the look in his eyes told me to continue. "It's ... um ... just that I'll be thirty-six soon," I started. "Day after tomorrow," he interrupted. "And you're worried I'll forget your birthday yet again?" I smiled at him and shook my head, laughing a bit. "No," I assured him, still chuckling. "Although I am wondering what you might be planning for an encore after last year's batting practice." He was about to respond when I added, "Not that I need to worry about that until oh, late April at the earliest." He grimaced at me and placed his hands theatrically over his chest. "Scully," he exclaimed, grinning, "I'm hurt." He paused and we regarded each other, letting the words we both knew were there lie unspoken. "How 'bout a little one on one? We could work on your ...jump shot." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me. I balled up a napkin and threw it at him. He dodged it easily. "And anyway," I told him, "I just happen to have a very consistent jump shot, thank you very much." "You know, Scully, I want to believe, but I think I'm going to need proof of that," he teased. I shook my head at him and looked back down at the papers in front of me. "Good try, by the way, Scully, but you aren't going to get off the hook that easily." "What hook is that, Mulder?" "What you were thinking about. So, your birthday is coming up and..." The smile left my face, replaced I'm sure by a reflective look. I shrugged my shoulders. "I saw this family when I was picking up lunch. It made me think." "About?" His voice was serious and thoughtful. I sighed again and shook my head a bit. "The things we're 'supposed' to accomplish in our lives. All those milestones society marks off for us. We're judged on how many of those almost arbitrary markers we pass." He reached across the desk and took my hand. "Since when has Dana Katherine Scully cared about what 'society' thought?" I smiled in acknowledgment of his words. "It's not so much that, Mulder. It's ... I don't how to explain it. Those milestones are important for a reason. I guess I'm afraid of missing out, of ending up with regrets, feeling like I cheated myself." I brushed away the tears that had formed in my eyes, hating myself for getting emotional like that. "You want to stop the car before it's too late to do anything else but keep driving." I nodded at him and brushed more tears away. "What have I done with my life, Mulder? I mean, I love working on the X Files. This work is ... you know I couldn't do anything else anymore, but by most standards I haven't done *anything* with my life, not since choosing a career. It's like my life is a big black hole." He looked at me, not knowing what to say. I continued. "I've never ... truly fallen in love, never gotten married. There aren't going to be any children. I've never traveled anywhere cultural or educational or even just entertaining for fun... I've never published anything. The list goes on. Even stupid things. Do you know how long it's been since I've been to a movie? watched stupid, mindless TV? For God's sake, Mulder, I've never even watched "Martha Stewart"!" I stopped and looked at him. He was trying diligently not to laugh at that last complaint. A smile broke onto my face and I giggled though my tears. Mulder was shaking with silent laughter. "OK, OK," I agreed, giggling still. "That's probably not much of a tragedy." He shook his head. He choked out, "Not unless you have a desperate desire to sheer your own sheep, clean, card, spin, and dye the wool yourself, before knitting it into an authentic Irish cable knit pattern. I mean, when you have a few spare hours on the odd Saturday, Scully." The image struck me as immensely funny and I couldn't help laughing harder at it. Somehow, Mulder ended up in my vision of all of this and the thought of Mulder with knitting needles was too much to bear. I put my head on my desk and laughed harder than I've laughed in a very long time. We both laughed for quite a while. My sides ached and the tears now rolling down my face had nothing to do with sorrow. When I could speak again I said, "Thank you. I needed that." Mulder was still laughing, though it was definitely mixed with groaning now. "We both did," he gasped at last. In a few more minutes we were both calm and Mulder informed me he would be taking me to dinner on my birthday and I should be ready to be picked up at seven. FEBRUARY 23, 2000 MULDER'S OFFICE - 9:00 P.M. "Mulder? work?" I whined as he ushered me into the office. "It's my birthday; it's after nine, and ...and ... I don't want to." He smiled mysteriously at me. "Have a seat, Scully. I want to give you your birthday present." I looked down at the silver bracelet he'd given me at dinner. "But, you already did that." He shook his head. "That was the decoy present. This is the real one. And don't bother asking me to tell you what it is. You'll see in just a moment." I watched as he powered up his laptop, which was hooked to the projector he kept around. He turned off the lights except the small one on his desk. With a flourish, he indicated a chair. I sat down and waited. He pulled a second chair next to mine, hit a few buttons on the laptop, and slid into place next to me. He slipped an arm around my shoulder, "I know it's not what's showing at the multi- plex, but I think you'll find it interesting," he said. The Power Point logo came up and Mulder's computerized slide show began. I gasped at the first slide. A photo collage of myself, lettered over with the words "Milestones in Dana Scully's life" popped up. I blushed furiously at the next slide. It was one of those you wish your parents had lost ages ago, but they seem to treasure beyond belief - me, getting my first bath. Somehow, in a day and a half, Mulder had done this, had obviously contacted my mother, gotten these photos, scanned them in, and put this together. My life unfolded before me, from that first bath to my favorite Halloween costume to my seventh-grade science fair project (which won first place). There were pictures of me with my siblings, playing, fighting, posing. I saw faces from high school I'd almost forgotten and pictures from college I should have forgotten. Mulder handed me a Kleenex when the image of my father hugging me upon my graduation came up. I grew apprehensive as the 'show' continued. What could he have found in my life after medical school? I saw my picture from the day I graduated from Quantico, chuckled at my attempts back then to look like Clarice Starling. Then there were images of our cases. I had no idea where he'd found the photos, some of us, some of the people we'd helped, the criminals we'd chased down. Some of the slides were of my field reports, even autopsy findings. The last had been taken by some over-eager journalist on our last case, the one with the LaPierre girl. Mulder and I were hunkered down in that field, discussing something. Neither of us had eyes for anyone or anything around us, so intent were we on each other. As the screen darkened the computer began playing a song, softly, one I didn't know. He leaned into me and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Scully." I looked up at him through eyes shining with tears. I took my bottom lip in my teeth. "Mulder," I said, voice full of emotion, "I don't know what to say." His face was half hidden in the shadows of the dim light, but I could see his smile. "Just tell me you know your life isn't a black hole, Scully." I shook my head. "No." I was crying again. "It isn't." "You said you were wondering about your place in the world. Scully, your place is unique, yours alone. It's right in front of you. Stop looking so hard. It's taken me a long time to find mine, to stop running, and so many times, I came close to missing my way, but I've found it and I'm going to hold on tight." Then I heard the lyrics that were floating over us. 'Could be one more mile, or just one step back/in a lover's smile, down a darkened path/Friends will take our side, enemies will curse us/ But to be alive is to know your purpose/It's your place in the world/Your place in the world/Your place in the world.' I smiled at Mulder and mouthed "Thank you" since the lump in my throat would not allow any sound to pass. Mulder laid his forehead against mine then and he looked into my eyes. "Do you really think you haven't accomplished any of those traditional goals, Scully?" he asked. His voice was soft, as if he were trying to disguise the fear he felt in what he was asking. He need not have been afraid. I knew what he meant. "No, Mulder. I've definitely achieved one of those goals." "Which one?" I smiled. "Hopefully the same one you've achieved." He looked at me carefully, watching the smile twitch at my face. "The one about truly falling in love," I told him. His hands came up, cupping my face. "Oh," he whispered. "*That* one." His mouth came closer to my own. "Yeah, I've got that one covered, too." "I need proof, Agent Mulder," I whispered back teasingly. Somehow, the fact that we shared our first real, passionate kiss in the basement office fit the two of us perfectly. Ah, milestones. END Nynaeve Temple of X http://members.xoom.com/Nynaeve1723/ I thought last week was a big week for you. And now I find out I have to learn the plural of "apocalypse". ---Riley Finn, 'A New Man' "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"