From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 8 Jan 2002 04:16:59 -0000 Subject: Promise by little Starbuck* Source: direct Reply To: starbuck42ajw@yahoo.com Title: Promise Author: little Starbuck* Rating: PG-13, I guess Category: MSR, a little Scully-angst, put-a-smile-on-your-face (I made that one up) Feedback: Yes Please! Send to starbuck42ajw@yahoo.com Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Spoilers: Season 8, How The Ghosts Stole Christmas, Millennium. Distribution: I would be happy to share, please keep my name on it. Summary: Woeful Christmas melancholy... where have I heard that before? ~*Pleeze Enjoy*~ **Promise** by: little Starbuck* ~~~~~ 7:52 PM, Christmas Eve... still hanging ornaments. I can't believe I left it to the last minute like this. I thought Christmas was like... I don't know... at least a week away. It just hit me yesterday, like a bus, that my living room was still tree-less, my door still wreath-less. I guess I've been preoccupied. It only makes sense that I would be. Especially now. ~~~~~ December 25, 1998 "Hey, Scully..." He asked timidly. "Hmm?" I replied, keeping my eyes glued to the television. "Scully, do you like it?" I felt his hand touch my shoulder. That, I guess, is what got my attention. "What?" I spun around to face him. "The um... the candle. Is it okay?" "Oh, yes! It's great. I love how it smells." I stuck the thing up to my nose and inhaled deeply, forcing a smile. God, it stunk! I mean, it smelled-like-burnt-hair kinda stunk. It's the thought that counts though, right? "Good. It reminded me of that soap you have in your kitchen... I don't really shop... much." His voice trailed off as his attention returned to his television. "How about my gift? You like it?" "I do!" Mulder smiled, holding the tiny book up to his face. "I found it at the, um... that new specialty book shop down on Ninth. It called out to me." I touched it, gingerly. He opened the front cover and read the inscription out loud. "To my friend Mulder. We may have our differences, but I always understand." He tilted his head to the side and smiled. That thoughtful, and understanding smile that is so Mulder. "Mulder, about what happened earlier..." "I know about as much as you about what happened earlier." He said. "I know, but, I wanted to tell you I'm sorry." "For what?" "For not believing you about the ghosts or whatever they were... for wanting to go home, actually." "You're entitled to..." He stopped and glanced down at the floor, that same thoughtful look in his eye, "You don't need to apologize." "Mulder, you aren't gonna get that from me very often... consider it a gift." He laughed silently. I allowed my eyes to wander back to the TV. "Thank you." He whispered, more to himself than to me. Soon, I felt his arm creep around me and find it's natural resting place on my shoulder. I also found myself settling comfortably into his embrace. This was... surreal. Perfect, in every definition of the word. Here was I... in his arms, which is odd for the two of us in the first place. And I was actually enjoying it. Not worrying about the twenty-or- so presents still sitting unwrapped in my living room. All the troubles seemed to melt away that night. In Mulder's arms... God... this was the Mulder I couldn't live without. This was Christmas eve, when I was supposed to be cooking and wrapping and prepping in general. But instead I had come to Mulder's place. Instead I had come here in search of comfort and reconciliation and, not to mention, some clarification (I had apparently shot him earlier that evening???). And instead of that, I had found the one thing my life seemed always to be lacking, especially around the holidays... Love. ~~~~~ 8:01 PM! Okay, Dana. Enough with the pathetic reminiscing. He's not here tonight. It's the same as every other night. No Mulder, with his arm wrapped tightly around you. No Mulder singing, totally off key, the only three Christmas songs he knows, over and over and over again. No Mulder, trying desperately to make you happy... just for this one day out of the year. No Mulder at all. Same as every other day. But tonight it's totally, painfully different. ~~~~~ December 23, 1999 "No, Mulder, this is not where I want to be right now!" I yelled through the howling wind. Mulder frowned. "You know perfectly well that isn't what I meant, Scully! Get in the car!" He hit the hood with his fist, aggressively, as if it would frighten me into following orders. "No. I told you. I'll walk if I have to. I have things to do!" The rain stung my face. I was tired and hungry and cold... And Mulder's god- dammed attitude wasn't making matters any better. Really, I just wanted a warm place to lay down. I had been awake since two o'clock in the morning and tomorrow was Christmas eve. I was supposed to be at my mother's, two hundred miles away, so, of course I wasn't really gonna walk. But, why the hell did he have to make it out to be my fault? Why did he have to be so negative!? "Scully, GET in the CAR! I'll drive away, I swear!" He opened to door and jumped in. I couldn't fold now. "You son of a bitch!" I mumbled under my breath. The storm was so loud, I couldn't even hear my self. That night was the first night Mulder and I... well, that night had a few firsts in it for us. Some of them, we were just to stubborn to see, back then. We'd been on assignment down in Georgia for about a week. The case was going no where and we were overdue for leave, so I shoved Mulder into the car and we began to drive back. I guess he told me to fill the tank somewhere along the way, but I could have sworn I didn't hear anything of the sort. Anyway, so, we had been driving for about an hour that evening when the car started making noises... and eventually broke down, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, in the storm! And this was my fault? "Well, there's a tow truck on it's way and a motel about twenty miles from here with one room left. One room's better than none..." He trailed off. "Mulder, I have to get to my mother's tonight. Bill and Tara are gonna be there, not to mention my aunt, who came from England-" "You're telling me?" "This is NOT my fault. You were driving. You should've at least glanced at the gas. God... this is perfect, you know!" I could feel my tone becoming angry again, so I stopped. "Well, I'm sorry, Scully. Gee, I am SO sorry. I'll be sure to-" Suddenly, overcome with anger, I slammed my fists on the dash. "Shut up!" I yelled. I actually yelled, like 'I am gonna kill you if you say another word' yelled. At him. And I knew it was my fault, too. He stared at me for a second, in shock... then turned on the radio, loud enough so he wouldn't have to hear my breathing. Shit! I ruined it. I ruined his Christmas. An hour later we were dropped off at our "motel", if that's what you want to call it. We hadn't said a word to each other since the car. "I'm taking a shower." He mumbled and disappeared into the bathroom. I sat on the bed and stared at the wall, feeling like an ass. Glancing over at his duffel bag, I noticed a little box peaking out. A gift. A gift for me... Who else could it be for? I heard the shower go on and decided it was up to me to make things right. I grabbed my key to the room and headed out the door. "Hi, do you have any um... beverages?" I asked. The overweight, bald man behind the counter smiled, revealing a giant gap in between his two front teeth. "You wouldn't think it, but as grungy as that ol' hotel is, it's a hot spot for some late night fun, 'specially round the holidays!" "Um... I'm not... I mean," I smiled back after a weak attempt at redeeming myself, "Yeah, 'specially round the holidays!" "Whatcha in the mood for, missy?" He asked. "Um... wine?" "I got your good old champagne. Will that work?" "Oh, ya know, anything with alcohol'll work." I smiled again, playing along. It was kinda fun, actually. "Six fifty, miss... Have a good one!" "Scully! Where the hell were you? I was worried... I called the manager, he said he hadn't seen anything-" I placed my hand on his shoulder and held up the 'good old champagne.' "I'm okay, I just went to get us some food. They didn't have much." I set my two grocery bags down on the bed and pulled two plastic glasses out of my coat pocket. Waving them in the air like little bells, I invited him to sit and enjoy a drink with me. All of the tension melted away. It's amazing how that happens with us. "I'm sorry I came down so hard-" I stopped him. "No need to apologize, Mulder. It's water under the bridge. And I'll admit, it was mostly my fault." "Okay, then." He smiled. "I'll have to call my mother and explain things." "Hey, I've got something for you." He leaned over, nearly falling off the bed and retrieved the present from his duffel. "Mulder, you shouldn't have." "I wanted to. It's nothing big. You can open it now." "Thank you." I began to tear away the paper, trying, as I had always been taught, to save to wrapping paper for next year. "Oh, for Chrissake, Scully! It's five square inches of paper. Just do it!" So I did. A jewelry box... Oh, god... nothing big? But, it's a jewelry box. You can put the biggest things in the world in a jewelry box. God... what was I going to do if this gift was... more than a gift? What if it was that question that I had always feared, and still do. That same question little girls dream about, but Dana Scully hoped never to hear. As much as she would always deny it, she was too afraid... What would I say? "Mulder..." I managed, after what seemed like hours. "Open it, Scully." He whispered. I allowed my thoughts to wander back a bit, trying to think of a reason for his asking now. We had been through a lot at the end of last year. I think we agreed that we had grown closer through Mulder's experience. Seven years together... that's like the longest courtship ever, I thought to myself. And Marriage? How was I supposed to handle marriage... to Mulder. Mulder, who I can't even stand sometimes. Mulder, who tells me I am wrong at least once a day... almost every day. Mulder, who thinks it's okay to, when he stays the night, wake me up at 6:00 AM and demand breakfast. Mulder, who... who never fails to surprise me. God knows he pulled through this time. "Is this... Mulder, tell me what this is..." I spoke, through my terror. "That would ruin it, wouldn't it Scully? Open it." He lowered his head slightly, so our eyes met. What was he doing? Why now? I mean, it would be the perfect opportunity. Two FBI agents, turned so- much-more-than-friends, sharing a motel room on a stormy night, sitting, facing each other, cross legged on a creaky old bed that groaned if you inhaled too deeply. Perfect. And I could barely hold on to the box, I was shaking so hard. But I somehow succeeded in slipping my thumb-nail under the lid and lifting it... "Merry Christmas, Scully... Say something." He whispered so low I could barely hear him. All I could really hear was my heart pounding in my ears. Boom boom, boom boom. In my hands sat a little gold box with a little sliver ring, with a diamond... a single diamond. And a single word written on a little slip of paper... 'Please.' The world span around me... literally. I began to feel nauseous. "What do you think?" He asked again. The ceiling fell to the floor and the floor flew upwards. "Scully?" I felt his hand grasp my arm, trying to steady me. "Mulder, I think I... ohhh, I.." And then I could see nothing but black. I could hear nothing but silence. I could feel nothing but that box in my hand... that question. I couldn't find an answer. ~~~~~ Oh, lord... Not now. Not on Christmas Eve. I promised myself I wouldn't cry... not about him. It's just another night, Scully. Like any other night of the year. And it's already 8:45. I have to sleep. I have to finish the tree and make the dessert for tomorrow ahead of time. I have to wrap presents. Why the hell is this happening to me? And now the baby's crying. What do I do? What comes next? "I am coming, sweetie." I sob. After setting the baby carefully in his play pen and drying my eyes as best I can, I find the little box that holds the angel for the top of the tree... ~~~~~ May 23, 2001 "Scully, I want you to have this." He whispered into my ear. "Why?" I asked quietly, tears steaming down my face. I stepped back a bit, giving myself some room... some distance between us, and wiped my eyes. "It was my mother's. She always left it up to me to put it on the top of our tree, when I was little. My dad would lift me up there, and I'd stick it right at the top, usually a little tilted..." He reached across this distance I had created between us and cupped my cheek with his hand, "Don't cry, Scully. Please..." "So, you'll be gone.. for awhile then, til after Christmas at least?" My voice trembled, as did my hands, and my lips. "I can't think of another way to make this work, Scully. I'll leave the Gunmen an address or a number where you can reach me." "I suppose there's no way I am talking you out of this?" "I told you once, Scully. I know you'll talk me out of anything I try to do, if it's a mistake." He smiled. "... I guess I can't then." I felt the lump in my throat return. "I do love you. I am sure of that. That's... that's the only thing I am sure of, now." "As sure as I am?" He nodded. I stepped closer and leaned toward him... "Then stay, Mulder." I whispered so only he could hear me. His eyes met mine, questioning... wondering if maybe he was wrong. 'Is this going to be a mistake, then, Scully?' He asked me with his eyes. I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I wanted him to stay. God, I needed him to stay. ~~~~~ "God Dammit!" I say to myself weakly. How can I sound so weak? Me, Dana Scully, who did the most push-ups in the class in fourth grade... Me, who didn't cry in Titanic... Me, who wouldn't allow myself fall in love with Mulder when I first met him, who wouldn't admit it to even myself when I did. I climb up on the chair and reach for the tree's top. It is nearly seven feet tall. I know I can't reach it by myself. I know it, but as stubborn as I have to be, I try to. "Come one, tree!" I scold the dammed thing. Just as I pull the tip towards me, just as I reach up with my other hand to stick the angel on top, I hear a crack from down below. Crack! "Oh, Shit!" The tree begins to fall on me. I try to hold it up by myself. I am strong, I can do this! I've survived four months without him. I can survive this. Crack... I begin to feel helpless again. I feel the hot tears return to my eyes. "Mulder!" I shout in anger. I don't know why I do. It's not his fault this is happening. But for some reason, if he were here, I doubt that it would be. William begins to cry. The tree continues to fall towards me. "Yes?" A familiar voice answers my call. ...Oh... well, this is great! Just fitting! Now, not only am I flashing on "Christmas past", I'm hallucinating. I'm hearing things. "Mulder?" I ask quietly, almost as if I'm ready to play along with my asinine little fantasy. "You look like you could use some help there." The voice mocks me. Oh, Ha! Haha! Very cute... He's talking back. This stupid figment of my imagination is actually having a conversation with me. Well, I guess I've reached the point of no return. The point of complete insanity. "Well, would you mind?" I tell him. And then there's a hand on my shoulder. A real hand. And then, a face I'd recognize anywhere is staring down into my eyes. And then... a kiss I remember from not too long ago repeats itself. And a tear falls. "Oh my God... I... Oh, God." I whisper into his mouth, this ridiculous vision of mine. Can it be real? Can it be him? "Hi, honey. I'm home..." He says softly into my ear. The baby has stopped crying. The tree has somehow been pushed upright. And he came just in time, even though he said he wouldn't. And he is real. That I know for certain. ~~~~~ New Year's Eve, 2001. (Almost 2002, actually)... "Scully, you sure you couldn't go for more wine? Or a beer?" "No... I have to do things tomorrow. I don't want to be stuck in bed all day-" His index fingers swiftly covers my lips. "Stuck in bed with me, all day... I'd say that beats anything you have to do tomorrow." I reach up and pull his hand away. "And I have to feed the baby. Don't get too carried away, lover boy." I smile into his deep hazel eyes and breath him in. God, I've missed that smell. Musk and Listerine. Mulder. "Well, I'm going for one more glass before the ball drops." He stands up and heads off to the kitchen. I'm afraid to watch him go now that he's back. I'm afraid he'll leave again. It seems so... pointless to be afraid. I know he loves me, I know he loves his son. He wouldn't leave us if his own life depended on it. Not now. But, still I worry when I lose sight of him. "Ahh... good old champagne, Scully. You sure you don't-" "Mulder! Two minutes. Just come sit the hell down!" He chuckles at my insistence and then plops down beside me on the sofa. "You know... it's all different now." He mutters after a moment. "You're right. It is." "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six..." "I love you." He whispers. I look up to his glowing face. He's so happy to be home. He's so happy that I am happy. I'd be lying if I didn't say the same thing. "Five, four, three..." "Ditto." I smile. "Two, one! Happy New Year! Happy 2002!" Dick Clark's voice, along with thousands of others' fills our living room. "Happy New Year." Mulder says. "Happy New Life." I turn to face him. Time stops for a moment as we remember that fateful night. As we remember that promise, that pact we made... "That too." He leans in and kisses me. ~~~~~ "Happy New Year, Scully." He said, the smile fading from his voice. "Happy New Year, Mulder." Before I knew it, he had his arm around me and we were heading out the door. "You know what?" I asked. "What?" "I um... I think that was our um..." "First kiss?" He finished for me, smiling, as I fiddled nervously with the car door lock. "Yeah... that's it." "Well, was it a good first kiss?" He asked bluntly as we got in. "What?" "Was it perfect? That was kinda what I was aiming for." "Um... I'm not sure." I started to engine. "Not sure? Look, either it was or it wasn't, Scully." He reached over and turned the key back. We weren't leaving until I gave him an answer. "I'm sorry." I paused, glancing down at my lap. "Tell me." He whispered. "It was perfect. It was what I hoped it would be like." Whoa! Did those words just escape my mouth? "Wait a minute, you've hoped... before, for that?" He was as shocked as I was. "I may have." I started the car again, this time keeping my hand over the key. "May have, hm? Well, I'll tell you a secret, Scully." "Yes?" We pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "I may have too." There were no words spoken until we arrived home. Not to his home, but to mine. And even when we did arrive, even when there were a few casual words exchanged, there was an unspoken vibe between us. Something I hadn't felt before. It felt, to me like the beginning of something. I wasn't sure what... until we woke up to the new year, in the same bed. "Happy New Life." He said gently as he stroked my hair. "New life?" "For us." "I guess it is, huh?" I realized. "Can I make a resolution... more of a promise to you, Scully?" "Sure." He got up on one elbow and faced me, serious, determined. "I'll never leave, Scully. Not forever. I'll always end up right back here. This is where I've always wanted to be." "That's a promise, Mulder. I'll hold you to it." I told him. "You do that, Scully. I'd never break a promise, not to you." He kissed the top of my head tenderly as he spoke. "I'll always come back here." He repeated, his voice bordering a whisper. "I know..." ~*The End*~ Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this. I injected some of my own personal holiday experiences into this piece (including the tree incident) I just saw TrustNo1 last night, and got a little depressed... but then I re-read this, which I had written nearly two weeks ago and decided not to post. I changed my mind about posting it when I read it again. It brightened my day, and I hope it could brighten yours...even if it was a little late. I'd love to hear what you thought! Starbuck42ajw@yahoo.com LS, signing out!