From: eponine119 Date: Sat, 29 Nov 1997 23:27:20 -0800 Subject: NEW: Stranger to the Rain 1/1 Disclaimer: The X Files, its characters and settings and stuff belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox, not to me. Spoilers: Detour Comments: Appreciated. Summary: While Mulder sleeps [in Detour], Scully thinks. ______________________ Stranger to the Rain by eponine119 eponine119@att.net November 25,1997 _____________________ His head was heavy. He'd gone to sleep almost immediately after she'd made him lie down and now she was sitting in the woods with nothing to do but wait for an invisible guy with glowing red eyes to come and eat her. Well, she could sing. He was lucky he was asleep. She stared out into the forest and tried not to think. It didn't work. Any excuse to get out of a communications seminar. The fact he hadn't been able to talk his way out of it this year should have been his first clue. He'd begged her to sign the form after his real doctor had refused and he hadn't been able to undersatnd why she refused. No one avoided communication better than he did. It had taken her a long time to comprehend that - he wasn't ditching her because he had something against her, it was because he couldn't stop long enough to tell her where he was going. If it even ocurred to him, which she was pretty sure it didn't. Just like when he jumped out of the car to hunt mothmen today. She shifted slightly, tyring to not to jostle him too much while at the same time encouraging the blood to return to her pins and needles legs. Where would he be if she hadn't been with him today? He didn't take death very seriously. She'd made a promise to herself when she'd gotten her life back. She'd been trying very hard to keep that promise over the last few weeks, especially in the last day or so. The communications seminar would have helped. Even without it, she was trying desperately to *talk* to Mulder. And it still felt like it was her fault that he wouldn't talk back to her. She'd even been willing to try Eddie Van Blundht's methods. If only she could morph into someone Mulder would be more willing to open up to, she thought. Except she was certain she was the only person he would talk to, which made her feel all the more sad that he couldn't. Did he feel alone, not being able to talk to anyone? She felt alone, knowing no one would be listening to her. One tiny bottle of booze. Two small motel room glasses. The perfect setting for anything to happen, conversation most or least of all. But nothing. One crack about Tailhook, of all things, and he'd jumped up and run out of the room. Normal behavior for Mulder. Not normal behavior for anyone else. Undaunted, she tried again. She had, after all, made a promise to herself that she had to keep. She'd tried to tell him how she'd felt, knowing she was going to die. She'd tried to tell him all the things she'd felt, and wanted to do, and all the things she'd wanted to say when she'd thought she would never see him again. And how did he respond? Kindly? Tenderly? Did he even bloody listen? He asked her about the Flintstones. For the record, Dana Scully never gave a flying fuck about the Flintstones. In the dark forest, the tinest of sounds slipped out from between her lips. It took her a moment to recognize it. It was a laugh. Not even a laugh with the dignity of a low-pitch. It was practically a giggle. Okay, it was a giggle. She, Dana Scully, was sitting in the forest, giggling. Because she was thinking about Pebbles and Bam-Bam, the Flintstones' offspring. She and Mulder were just like Pebbles and Bam-Bam. Maybe that was where the giggle had come from, she thought, wasn't that Pebbles' thing? And who the hell named their kid Pebbles anyway? If memory served her correctly, the little redheaded girlbaby had always been reaching out to people. Actually, when she thought about it, she hadn't paid that much attention. But Mulder was Bam-Bam. Blustering through life, pounding everything that got in his way. Direct, straightforward, and everything was going to be his way. If it wasn't his way, that was fine, he'd go off and have his way on his own. The secrets of the world revealed, she thought. "Flintstones, meet the Flintstones..." she mumbled-sang in an off-key, cracked voice. Just as well she couldn't remember any more of it. Her dad had been kind of like Fred, she thought fondly. That's pushing it, she told herself a second later. Hadn't Bam-Bam been adopted? Amazing how the brain could take a stray thought, a bit of conversation, a touch of albeit strained analogy and, in the lack of other stimuli, just keep going and going with it. The human mind is an amazing thing, she thought. She remembered Mulder asking his mother who his father had been. Why did Mulder doubt? Who did he think was a more likely candidate? And hadn't Fred and Barney met a little green man at one point? She shook her head. This was going to drive her insane if she kept at it. She looked down and saw her fingers were threaded through Mulder's hair. When had that happened? He was cute, she thought, and she watched her fingers move through his hair, parting it and combing it gently. Not her idea of heavy petting, but it would have to do. She smirked out into the darkness. So much time on her hands and so very little to think about. The smirk broadened into a smile. Just a man and a woman and...that was pretty much it. "Me and you and a dog named Boo," she burst out suddenly into song, amusing herself greatly. "How I love bein' a free man." "Wha -?" She started at the sound coming from her lap. Mulder's eyes were open. Great, she'd woken him. He'd probably thought they were being attacked. "Nothing, Mulder. I just got carried away. Go back to sleep." "Okay," he agreed, too easily. His voice was so soft and gravelly when he was half-asleep. She'd never noticed that low timbre of sleepiness before. It had probably been obscured through the phone lines, the few times she'd spoken to him late at night. What a loss, she thought. She liked it. "Are you doing all right?" she asked, cocking her head to look down at him. Her fingers were still petting the side of his head. "Yeah," he answered, his eyes closed. "Cold, though." The smile he gave her was nothing less than content. "Nice." "Being cold is nice?" "Singing." "You must mean singing in general, Mulder, because if you think my singing is nice, we'd better get you to a hospital." He barely even smiled. He was going back to sleep. That was good. Much as she'd like the company, much as she'd like to talk to him, she didn't think he was up to it. "I decided you and Bam-Bam are a lot alike," she said, to try to shock him. It didn't work. He didn't respond for such a long time that she was sure he'd gone back to sleep, and she'd returned to looking out into the darkness. It sure was dark without any lights, she thought. Then he said, "Sing something else." She waited, hoping he'd fall asleep before he noticed she wasn't carrying out his request. But he opened his eyes, and started to turn his head to look up at her. "Okay," she replied, resting her hand against his neck to keep him from moving any more. His eyes closed again. "Any requests?" she quipped, and he didn't answer. But she knew better than to not oblige him this time. "Now sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a lovely ship..." He groaned. "Sorry," she murmured. He grunted his forgiveness. "...Then one day he was shootin' at some food and up from the ground came a bubblin' crude..." He groaned louder. "I'm really sorry," she whispered, petting him again. That seemed to soothe him at least. I'll have TV Themes for $100, Alex, she thought. She hadn't watched any of the damn things since she was a kid, so she didn't even know what those songs were doing still in her brain. They had no business being the only songs she could think of. Mulder turned his head and nuzzled against her leg, butting her with his nose like an insistant porpoise, trying to tell her something. Sing me to sleep, he was demanding. He was as bad as a little boy. And if she started thinking about yearning for a little baby boy to hold in her arms and rock to sleep with a lullaby, she'd soon be crying too hard to indulge him. She took a deep breath, remembering, and started to sing softly, a real song this time. "Shed no tears for me, there'll be rain enough today. I'm wishing you Godspeed as I wave you on your way." Sleep, Mulder. Rest now, while you have the chance. "This is not the first time I've stayed behind to face The bitter consquences of an ancient fall from grace" Women talk; men act. Women need words. That was how the snake tempted Eve. "I'm a daughter of the race of Cain I am not a stranger to the rain." Anything that separates us from the crowd, has to make us stronger. Color, beliefs, working with Spooky Mulder on the X Files... "Orphan in the storm, that's a role I've played before I've learned not to tremble when I hear the thunder roll I don't curse what I can't change, I just play the hand I'm dealt And when they lighten up the rations, I tighten up my belt." He was strong also, in his own way. She'd never met a man as strong of will as she was before. "I won't say I've never felt the pain I am not a stranger to the rain. And somewhere far from safety, there's a man who's walking free His story isn't mine, but he's as much alone as me." Mulder. "He has left his home to walk among the wounded and the slain And when the storm comes crashing on the plain He will dance before the lightning to music sacred and profane." Oh, Mulder. She could see him, if she closed her eyes. Arms outstretched, face turned up to meet the rain, as though to greet the danger lightning held while celebrating its fire. He moved to sounds only he could hear, but they were inspired. "Oh, shed no tears for me, light no candle for my sake This journey I am making is one we all must make." The journey into life, the struggle to make life meaningful as it grows into a journey toward death, in its own time. She had no choice. They had no choice. "Shoulder to the wind, I'll turn my face into the spray And when the heavens open, let the drops fall where they may If they finally wash away the stain from a daughter of the race of Cain I am not a stranger to the rain. Let it rain." The moisture on her face wasn't just coming from tears, she realized slowly. It really was raining - light and gentle, as though to cleanse the forest from its evil. She wondered where the red eyed creature would spend its night. Would it hide from the rain, as humans had grown used to doing, or would it come out to revel in it? It meant she could be no less alert. She wiped the first few drops from Mulder's face as the rain began to fall harder. She leaned forward, over him, trying to shielf him from the worst of it. She had promised to protect him, and that was what she would do. No matter what. Because she loved him. Even if he wouldn't stand still long enough for her to even begin to show it. Or tell him. the end. oh my god, it's a song story!!!! please, anything but that. I'm sorry! The song is "Stranger to the Rain" and it's from the musical "Children of Eden." If you think it's a stretch for Scully to know all the words to an obscure musical that played only in Britain, well, I agree with you. But it's just so darn perfect. And I didn't want to use the rest of "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog" like everyone else, though that *is* perfect. thanks for readin'! comments -- eponine119@att.net -- _______________________________________________ eponine119 eponine119@att.net http://members.aol.com/Eponine119/ "Don't be dark." *Darin Morgan*Millenium*Jose Chung's Doomsday Defense*