From: Brandon Ray Date: Mon, 15 Mar 1999 06:29:51 -0600 Subject: NEW: Playing House 2 (1/1) TITLE: Playing House 2 AUTHOR: Brandon D. Ray EMAIL ADDRESS: publius@avalon.net DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name stays on it and no money changes hands. FEEDBACK: Go ahead; knock yourself out. Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net SPOILER STATEMENT: Arcadia RATING: PG CONTENT STATEMENT: M/S UST CLASSIFICATION: VH SUMMARY: Mulder's thoughts during the episode. Frightening idea, isn't it? This is a companion piece to Shannon O'Connor's "Playing House". DISCLAIMER: In my dreams... Playing House 2 by Brandon D. Ray She was fiddling with her wedding ring again. Mulder wondered if his partner was even aware she was doing it. Ever since she'd slipped the ring on her finger in their basement office yesterday morning to check the fit, she'd seemed to be alternately fascinated and repelled by the thin white gold band. One moment she was twisting it around and around, or sliding it back and forth across her knuckle, and the next she had her hands folded tightly in her lap or on a desk or table top, fingers tucked in so that the ring wasn't visible. At the moment she was playing with it again, but he knew that as soon as she noticed him noticing she'd stop and fold her hands in her lap and try to act as if the ring wasn't even there. He'd decided early on that the fiddling action must be a stress reliever for her, which meant it would be best if he didn't let her know he was watching. Just the occasional glance out of the corner of his eye, then. It WAS awfully cute, after all. He wondered why she was nervous. It was just another case, and not even really an X-File, in Mulder's expert opinion. Just a series of mysterious disappearances of residents in a gated community. Probably turn out to have some completely mundane explanation, which meant that he and Scully were really wasting their time here. So it couldn't be the case, and Mulder couldn't for the life of him figure out what else might be bothering her. If anything she should be happy and excited, like he was. This might not be an X-File, but the fact was that they DID have the Files back, and this was their first shot out of the box, lame and boring though it may be. Actually, the very fact that this WAS a boring and tedious assignment meant they should be able to cut loose and relax a bit. And besides, they were going to get to spend several days "playing house"; what wasn't to like about THAT? Oh, well. He'd long since given up trying to understand what women were thinking, especially this particular woman. No doubt she'd work through it, whatever it was -- she usually did. And in any case, here they were, ready to make their debut as husband and wife. "Honey, we're home!" he said good-humoredly as he pulled up to the neighborhood gate. He punched in the access code they'd been given during the assignment briefing, and an electronic voice welcomed them, mispronouncing the name "Petrie". Mulder rolled his eyes and turned to look at his partner. Maybe he should have gone with Lucy and Ricky Ricardo after all. "Uh, I think I'm scared of that," he said, throwing a smile at her in hopes of helping her break out of whatever had put her in this introspective mood. "Right," Scully agreed, looking as if she'd just found an insect in her soup. A glowing green prehistoric insect. Mulder shrugged; some days it almost seemed as if she didn't WANT to have fun and be happy, and this was apparently one of those days. Without further ado he maneuvered the minivan through the gate, and a few moments later they were pulling to a stop in front of the house they'd be sharing during the assignment. A woman was standing at the curb holding a big basket wrapped with cellophane and adorned with a ribbon reading "Welcome Neighbors!" "Showtime," Scully said under her breath, and Mulder smiled. If she was able to crack jokes then the situation wasn't completely hopeless. He was sure that with just a little prodding she'd be relaxed and having fun in no time. ========== Okay, so maybe he'd been wrong about the prodding. Mulder meditated on the matter as he set the table for dinner. Things had seemed to be going fairly well: They'd met their new neighbors, and everyone had pitched in to help them beat the 6 p.m. deadline for getting moved in. Mulder had actually been a little taken aback by all the neighborliness; he wasn't used to being chummy with strangers. But he'd adjusted fairly quickly, and had thrown himself into the role of yuppie husband with gusto -- and Scully had seemed to be having a good time, too. But the moment they were alone in the house she'd backed off, and her professional mask had fallen into place again. Mulder had done his best to draw her out with the wisecrack about carrying her over the threshold and then the one about making a honeymoon video, but nothing had seemed to break through her reserve, beyond the very smallest of smiles. They'd proceeded to check the house over as thoroughly as they could in the limited time available. Then, much to Mulder's surprise, Scully had offered to fix dinner if he'd just set the table. He'd been ready to go get some Chinese carryout or order a pizza, but he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity of a home cooked meal, especially one he got to share with his beautiful partner, and so he'd jumped at the chance. Now if he could just figure out which side of the plate the salad fork was supposed to go on.... ========== Mulder was starting to get seriously annoyed at his partner. First there had been the "poopyhead" remark, but that hadn't actually bothered him that much -- in fact, he'd taken it as a sign that she'd finally decided to come out and play. But as the day progressed it had become clear that she was actually increasingly on edge, and for some reason was choosing to take it out on him. The unspoken argument over who would fix lunch had been typical: Mulder had been attempting to do some indepth research on the Internet -- okay, so it wasn't related to their current assignment -- but Scully had flatly refused, without ever quite saying so, to fix him anything to eat. He'd finally given up and reluctantly torn himself away from alt.paranormal.possession.Furbys and wandered out to the kitchen -- and just to show her he knew how petty she was being, he'd made her a sandwich, too. Not that she'd showed any appreciation for his efforts on her behalf. Of course not. ========== When they went to dinner at the Shroeders' things seemed to be better again. Mulder launched himself back into his role, and Scully actually emerged from her shell a bit, hamming it up to his account of their first meeting. Well, okay, the kick under the table was a bit over the top, but Mulder supposed that was just due to her renewed enthusiasm for the parts they were playing. Unfortunately the evening was a flop in terms of finding any useful information about the case, but Mulder still wasn't that interested in the investigation anyway -- although Scully did seem still to be stuck on her inexplicable insistence that this WAS an X-File. Whatever. At least they were together and working on a real investigation again, after all those months on the fertilizer patrol. But once they were safely home Scully switched on him again, and took him to task over the U.F.O. conference story. And to add insult to injury, after he'd gone out and broken into Mike Raskub's place and then crawled halfway into the storm drain to retrieve that damned necklace -- at her request, no less -- she REALLY lit into him, finding fault with the way he squeezed the toothpaste and even continuing to nag him over the frickin' toilet seat. It took all of Mulder's willpower not to remind her about the damp pantyhose she'd left hanging in the shower that morning, or of the fact that she'd used HIS razor to shave HER legs. Women. ========== Having Scully go into town on her own the next day was actually a bit of a relief, and Mulder was left to his own devices for awhile. A little peace and quiet, he thought, was definitely a good thing in ANY relationship. Best of all, the case was finally starting to show some promise. Mulder had gotten the idea that the disappearances were somehow related to the CC&R's that kept getting thrown in their faces, and now he set about trying to prove that theory by committing a series of rule violations. The pink flamingo in the front yard was an especially nice touch, he thought. Mulder also took a certain amount of pleasure at shooting hoops in the driveway at 10:30 at night. Try to tell him he couldn't play basketball, would they? It stopped being fun, though, when Cami Shroeder was attacked by the whatever-it-was. But at least Mulder finally got a good look at the monster, and he was actually perversely delighted to be able to report back to his partner -- after narrowly escaping having a fireplace poker wrapped around his head by that self-same partner -- that this was an X-File, after all. Of course, by this time SHE had decided that it really WASN'T an X-File. Go figger. ========== And then, finally, everything seemed to come together at once. Using a backhoe Mulder tore up the front lawn on the pretext that he was digging a reflecting pool -- another nice touch, he thought -- and finally he found a clue. A real, live, honest-to-god clue, linking the deaths of the Klines -- and presumably the other missing residents -- to Gene Gogolak. Mulder went to Gogolak's home and confronted him, and drug him back "home" in handcuffs, congratulating himself on having wrapped the matter up and ignoring Gogolak's blustering threats of intimidation and reprisal. Scully was really going to be proud of him on this one -- he'd managed to solve the case using her brand of deductive reasoning, and he hadn't even had to ditch her to do it. Unfortunately the monster chose that moment to manifest itself at the "Petrie" residence. Upon seeing the front door of the house broken down, Mulder cuffed Gogolak to the mailbox and ran inside, only to find Scully safe and sound and none the worse for the wear. The creature was nowhere to be seen, but a moment later he heard screams from outside, and he raced back out just in time to see the monster finishing off its creator. Then it turned on Mulder...and suddenly collapsed back into its constituent elements. Case closed. ========== Of COURSE she hadn't seen anything. Why should this time be any different? She was constantly arriving on the scene ten seconds too late, or looking in the wrong direction when the U.F.O.'s flew by, or some other damned thing. This time she'd contrived to get herself locked in a closet at the crucial moment, god knows how. And of course, that meant she hadn't seen anything. Again. Okay, to be perfectly fair she'd admitted that she'd seen SOMETHING, but of course she was unable to identify it. It was all just too damned convenient -- like the way Captain Kirk always used to lose his communicator whenever he beamed down to an alien planet. Mulder allowed his mind to fast-forward to the report they were going to have to write. Most of it would be fine, of course: Introduction, methodology, preliminary findings -- all of that stuff was pretty much cut and dried. It would be fine. But then they'd have to write some conclusions, and from that point on things were most definitely NOT going to be fine. Mulder would insist on reporting what he'd seen: That all the mayhem had been caused by a tulpa, a creature composed of rotting garbage from the landfill under The Falls and bound together by psychic energy provided by Gene Gogolak. Scully, of course, would insist on reporting what SHE had seen -- which is to say, nothing. The argument, he estimated, would last one hour and fifteen minutes, and he would lose. In the end they'd submit a nice, comfortable non-report report, and everyone would be happy with it except for Mulder himself. Par for the course. With a sigh of contentment he glanced briefly down at his partner as he steered their minivan away from The Falls at Arcadia. "Hey...Laura," he said. Her lips quirked in the Scully equivalent of a thousand watt smile, and she drawled, "Yes, ROB?" Mulder felt a grin spread across his own face, and he said, "It's good to be back." Mulder watched in amazement as a real smile appeared on his partner's face. "Yes, Mulder," she replied. "It certainly is." Maybe things were going to be all right after all. Fini -- "Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come." -- Matt Groening, "Love is Hell" ======================= My fanfic wants to love you, but you have to make the first move: http://www.avalon.net/~publius/MyStories.html