Subtle Tears. Part (1/1)
By RedDoggX
E-Mail: RedDogg57@aol.com
Distribution: As many places as you would like, as long as I 
receive credit and feedback. ;-)
Spoilers: Squeeze, Anasazi, SR 819, The Ghosts Who Stole 
Christmas, Duane Barry, Beyond The Sea
Classification: V
Rating: PG-13 for suggested sexual situations
Summary: Sequel to ÒSomething Will Always Go WrongÓ. A guide 
of another typical day in the office life of Dana Scully. 
With typical zest in his search for the Truth, Mulder will 
forget an important dateÉ
Disclaimer: This was written since Scully deserves her turn 
in the spotlight. In no way do I mean to infringe on the 
hallowed copyright of CC and 1013 Productions/Fox. I mean 
this a humble way of expressing my thanks for the wonderful 
characters that they bring to the screen every Sunday night. 
Plus, I am a poor college student, so they wouldnÕt be able 
to squeeze a penny out of me. ;-)
Feedback is eagerly awaited, as this is my first sequel, and 
my second fanfic. Even if it is something as simple as 
ÒGood!Ó, I would love to hear all criticism, both good 
andÉ<ahem> not so good.
=============================================================
Roll over and glance at your clock, see that it is 7:30 in 
the morning, and hide under your blankets. Smell the scent of 
freshly ground Starbucks Jamaican Blue Mountain emanating 
from your coffee maker. Groan. You are the only person you 
know that actually knows how to program that damn machine. 
Feel the tension in your muscles slowly slip away, as your 
dreams, faceless as always, slip away from your 
comprehension. Sigh, and wonder if insomnia is really all 
that bad. Even though your medical training tells you that 
eight hours of sleep a night is best, you wonder what it 
would be like to be up all night, surfing the web, checking 
out old movies on TV, reading really boring medical journals 
while sucking back caffeine-laden stimulants just to keep the 
faceless beings at bay. Quickly throw off the covers, hoping 
to escape the chill of an early February morning on the way 
to your shower. Remember that you have a long day ahead, as 
you want to get ahead on the backlog of paperwork that 
Skinner has demanded before you can guiltlessly take the 
weekend off and spend time with your family. The face of 
Matthew Scully, your year-old nephew, will fill your mind. 
Refuse to let tears spring to your eyes.
Subtle tears will always plague your life. 
==
As you slip into the scented bathwater, feel the warmth of 
the water slide around your shoulders, sending the shivers 
away to their hiding places. Feel the tension in your neck 
slowly ease, as the scent of warmth permeates your senses. 
Thoughts of a weekend with your family flit in and out of 
your memory. Recall fights that Bill, Charles, and you had 
over couch position rights. Smile at the memory. Your smile 
will fade when the image of Matthew again enters your mind. 
Feel your motherly instinct rise up. Your hand will come to 
rest on your stomach, and you will snap your eyes open. Roll 
your eyes. ÒGreat. I havenÕt even left yet, and IÕm already 
wishing I was somewhere else.Ó Quickly finish bathing.
Vaguely notice that the bathwater has lost its warmth.
==
Step into your living room, noticing that the new suit that 
you bought from Donna Karan has decided to compliment your 
body well, while managing to evoke the image of a no-
nonsense, calculating FBI agent that would gladly step on 
your throat at a moments notice. 
Ready for just another day at the office.
As you gather your keys, badge, and check the clip in your 
service weapon, glance in the hall mirror. Stop suddenly, and 
stare at the image presented to you. Wonder why you bother to 
look damned good when your partnerÕs idea of fashion is a 
badly striped politicianÕs tie. Smile as you realize that you 
are lucky to have a partner that doesnÕt treat you as another 
walking pair of breasts in a suit that begs to be ripped open 
by his eyes as you pass by. Wonder about the first dry 
comment out of his mouth that he substitutes for a standard 
greeting. Recall which rolling of the eyes evokes an actual 
attempt at a smile. Pick up your briefcase, and head for the 
door.
YouÕll need lots of time to perfect your response.
==
You will walk in a few minutes before nine. Put down your 
briefcase on your desk. Calmly notice the three empty coffee 
cups perched precariously around a mound of paperwork that 
Mulder is recklessly plowing through. Note that Mulder is not 
chewing his seeds this morning. Make a mental note to get 
more seeds at the lunch break.
He has the most interesting mouth.
Quip, ÒAnother day of paperwork? DonÕt you at least have a 
vegetarian genetic mutant that we could chase?Ó You will be 
rewarded with a crooked smirk, but before he can reply, turn 
and walk out the door for more coffee. Realize that his tie 
is not as hideous as the usual fare. Call out, ÒNice tie.Ó 
Arrive at the coffee maker, and notice that a fresh pot 
awaits.
==
You hate paperwork.
You never realized this before, but in the eight years at the 
Bureau, the amount of paperwork has steadily increased. You 
thought med school was a pain, but the case report that has 
to be so exact so that Skinner doesnÕt chew you out really 
irks you. You know that Mulder could never adequately 
describe his actions in a way that wouldnÕt get him fired, so 
you gladly tackle those duties. Mulder handles the expense 
reports with his overactive imagination. Feel thankful for 
this gift, as the personal auditor assigned exclusively to 
the X-Files has bad breath and a penchant for standing close 
enough so he can peer at the hint of bare skin showing under 
your blouse. Mulder will automatically hand you the case 
reports, as he is not as good at covering his ass as you are. 
You hand each other files from across the space between your 
desks. You have gotten so adept at grabbing the files that 
you will not have to look anymore. Your fingers will brush 
his as you accept the newest case report. Ignore the flutter 
in your chest. Notice that he is completely oblivious to your 
condition. Continue slaving away at your laptop. Hold out 
your hand to receive another file, and bump MulderÕs hand, 
knocking its contents to the floor. Quickly rise, and find 
yourself a foot away from Mulder, looking deep into his eyes. 
Vaguely notice traces of sunflower seeds and aftershave. 
Realize that you are actually gazing at your partner. Attempt 
to clamp your heart down into its proper position in your 
chest, manage to sound lighthearted, and say, ÒAre we a 
little jumpy today, Mulder?Ó Without changing his expression, 
he will deadpan, ÒOh, you know. Probably another dialysis 
machine in the CoffeeMate.Ó Turn away, return to your desk, 
and let your hair fall over your face.
You donÕt want him to see you smile. 
==
You will be absorbed in your latest novella of a case report 
when MulderÕs voice will interrupt your train of thought. 
ÒSo, Scully. What should we torment our bodies with today?Ó 
You will stretch your shoulders in order to release some of 
the tension buried there. Expel from your mind all thoughts 
of scented massage oils, feathers, and ice cubes. Cast a 
glance at him, and groan, ÒShould we even brave the cafeteria 
today, Mulder?Ó He will quip, ÒWell, I think the BureauÕs 
tapioca pudding is finally considered extraterrestrial in 
nature. Maybe we should check it out, purely for professional 
reasons, of course.Ó A grin will creep at the corners of your 
mouth. See the glint in his eyes as he drinks in your signs 
of mirth. 
Maybe a smile isnÕt so bad after all.
==
You will step into the elevator, and a sudden pall will 
descend over your partner. See that he is breathing deeply, 
and look at him out of the corner of your eye. His hands will 
shake almost imperceptibly. Recall the rumors you heard about 
MulderÕs involvement with A.D. SkinnerÕ s hospitalization. 
Remember how angry you were with those ignorant, pissant 
agents for their cruelty. Mulder will not look at you, since 
he doesnÕt want to bother you. Reach for his hand, and give a 
gentle squeeze. As the doors open, you step out into the 
hallway, with your all-business face on.
Sometimes you wish he would bother you.
==
You both split up as you enter the cafeteria. He will head 
directly for the grill. Wonder how his stomach looks that 
flat when he must consume enough nitrates for a small 
country. See that a few of his VCS colleagues are standing in 
line with him. 
Pray that they keep their mouths shut. 
You will come to the salad bar, where you are greeted by an 
assortment of colorless, limp matter that vaguely resemble 
vegetables. Note that you are the only one in line for the 
food. Quickly construct your meal, and head over to a table 
in the corner of the room. Wonder if Mulder will even notice 
that you have purposefully sat down at the most remote table 
in the room. As you sit down, watch Mulder walking quickly 
towards you, while agents seem to part before him like the 
Red Sea. Notice the firm line of his jaw as he clenches it to 
tamp down his emotions. He will sit, and say, ÒScully? Is it 
just me, or do I need to change my cologne? No one has 
decided to confront me today. Especially after Skinner got 
sick.Ó Realize that even though Mulder lives in the basement, 
he is not immune to the latest rumors about him. Begin a 
long, drawn out narrative about how maybe respect takes a 
long time to engender, and that maybe the newer agents will 
have a healthy respect for you. Note that his eyes are 
darting around you, seeing that agents are not, in fact, 
giving the respect he deserves. Your hunger will fade as you 
see the color of his eyes shift almost imperceptibly, masking 
years of ridicule and shame. You will begin to gesticulate 
with your fork, imagining one of those green, arrogant agents 
on the receiving end of your cutlery. 
Try not to notice his mouth working on his food.
==
Return to your office, thankful that you didnÕt have to 
eviscerate a fellow agent. Your partnerÕs mood seems to have 
lightened, and when you spot the new stacks of files on his 
desk, sigh, ÒJust another day at the office.Ó Notice how the 
color is his eyes has returned, and now a new fire burns 
there that you rarely get to see. He will stack the remainder 
of his paperwork, and eagerly open the first of the newly 
arrived X-Files. Pick up the files he has forgotten about, 
and wordlessly start on them. 
You will close your eyes, and the image of two burning hazel 
eyes will be reflected back at you. 
==
His frustration will be evident. He will be making small 
noises of displeasure as he adds another file to his outbox. 
He will grunt as he picks up the last of the folders. You 
will not be able to resist the temptation, and you say, ÒThat 
exciting of a case, Mulder?Ó Remain fixated on your computer 
screen. He will quickly reply, ÒI think our division recycles 
about 20 percent of the BureauÕs paper.Ó Realize that for 
Mulder to pass on a potential X-File means that Skinner must 
have really scraped the bottom of the freaky phenomena 
barrel. Your partner will open the last report, and he will 
become lost to the world as his eyes take in the information 
contained there.
Slowly loosen your collar.
==
He will hand you the case file and quickly begin a narration 
of the important points contained therein so you donÕt have 
to plow through the incident reports. As you take your 
customary position in the recurring debate over the existence 
of ghosts. Your eyes take in the information in the folder, 
trying to keep pace with MulderÕs convenient jumps in logic. 
==
Name: Linda McCarthy
Marital Status: Widowed, one child, age 25
Location: Salt Lake City, Utah
Complaint: For every ValentineÕs Day since her husbandÕs 
death, Linda will inevitably catch a glimpse of her husband, 
holding a red rose in his hand. This has occurred for 13 
years in a row, but for some reason, Linda has become afraid. 
She reports that whenever her boyfriend, a man named Charles 
Bennion, enters her house, she will feel drafts when no 
windows are open, find that everyday household objects will 
disappear from their usual storage places and reappear in 
strange ones, and that doors will automatically lock whenever 
he knocks. 
Witnesses: Charles sustained minor injuries when he fell down 
a short flight of stairs. He claimed that he felt like 
someone had pushed him. LindaÕs neighbor, a woman named Julie 
Richmond, has been present when the doors have inexplicably 
locked themselves.

You suspect that Linda is still grieving over her husbandÕs 
death, and that she is suffering from work-related stress 
since she had to continue to support her son as a single 
parent. Your partner will try to establish a precedent for 
the existence of the spirit of a loved one since it reoccurs 
in literature countless times. You will claim that the notion 
of a loved one protecting you from the Great Beyond is 
nothing but a hallucinogenic manifestation of the pain and 
grief suffered at the loss of that person. Recall the image 
of your father sitting in your living room at three in the 
morning, right before you found out that he had died. Another 
image will enter your mind. Imagine your partner standing on 
a mountaintop, looking sleep-deprived and with tears 
streaming down his face as he gazes at the sky silently. 
These thoughts will quickly be banished from your mind as 
Mulder reminds you that Julie Richmond is happily married and 
a scientist in the field of microbiology, and she is probably 
not prone to bouts of confabulation. Mentally chalk another 
point onto the scoreboard for Mulder. A glow will descend on 
his face as he clears away the debris on his desk in order to 
make travel arrangements for the two of you.
Your good mood will disappear.
Mulder forgot again.
==
Take in his defenseless posture, his hands turned palms out, 
as if he is expecting a physical blow. His eyes will turn 
glassy, as if the tears are ready to burst forth. You will 
not let him get of the hook this time. He will furrow his 
brow, the concentration manifesting itself in the thin drops 
of sweat on his brow. You continue to stare at him until he 
grows uncomfortable. Just when he looks like he is ready to 
admit defeat, you remind him of the date. He will then search 
through the clutter on his desk, looking in vain for his 
calendar. You see that is about to upset the stack of 
completed reports, so you say in your doctor voice, ÒMulder, 
IÕm not going on this case until *after* ValentineÕs Day. 
Remember? I told you about this last week.Ó 
Realization will dawn on him.
Think about your past holidays, and how comfortable they were 
when you spent them with your family. Remember how safe you 
felt in your motherÕs house while you helped mix the eggnog 
for the Christmas party. This year, Bill and his wife will be 
coming down to your motherÕs for ValentineÕs Day. You know 
that there is nothing strange about their visit, but for some 
odd reason, you know that they are all gathering now for 
support, not for celebration. In your mind, you will see the 
battered family album on the coffee table, with the pages of 
Missy and Ahab dog-eared with constant viewing. 
Realize that Mulder has never had that type of holiday.
Picture him sitting on his couch, with his mail sitting 
unopened on his table, watching a cheesy TV special with the 
sound off in the dark of his apartment. You picture him 
picking up the picture of Samantha that he keeps on his 
shelf, and gazing at it until exhaustion wins its eventual 
battle. That image will flee, as it is replaced by another. 
Recall the joy on his face as he tore at the cheap wrapping 
paper of your gift. Realize that you have been looking at 
your partner for a long time. Before your rational side can 
take over, you will blurt out, ÒMulder, are you sure you 
donÕt want to come over for dinner at MomÕs?Ó Shock will 
register on his face. It will be quickly replaced with the 
trademark smirk. ÒBill would just love that, wouldnÕt he?Ó
Your heart will sink.
He will see the change in your face. He will make a hasty 
attempt to recover, but not even a full-blown, 1000 watt 
Mulder smile can take that back. You will turn back to your 
desk, determined not to show your true feelings of 
disappointment and shame.
Too late.
==
You both wordlessly decide to work for the rest of the day in 
relative silence. Mulder will excuse himself only to use the 
restroom. You have become involved intimately with your 
laptopÕs screen. Your attention will only waver when you can 
feel his gaze searching your face for an instant. 
What he is thinking, you donÕt know.
Around three, he will push his expense reports away from him, 
stand, and stretch his lanky body. Wonder how many miles he 
runs a day. Without preamble, he tells you to go home. 
Recognize that Mulder is trying to be nice. Lean back in your 
chair, and raise your eyebrow. He will begin to speak 
haltingly, like he is carefully choosing the least offensive 
words. ÒCÕmon, Scully. Go have fun with your family. The last 
thing you want to do is spend the rest of the day down here 
with a stack of bureaucratic BS while you could skip the 
traffic and make it over to your momÕs early for dinner. 
Besides, IÕm no fun to be around anyway.Ó Continue staring at 
him, as you remember that working with him is actually 
enjoyable. You need to remind yourself more often. Briskly 
gather your files, and walk toward the door, hoping that he 
isnÕt hurt by your acceptance of his offer. Stop in the 
doorway, and, turning around, say, ÒThanks, Mulder. See you 
Monday. IÕm sure Mrs. McCarthy will still be here when I get 
back.Ó Before you can leave, he will say, ÒHappy ValentineÕs 
Day, Scully.Ó Tears will spring unbidden to your eyes as his 
words register in your mind. Wordlessly, turn and walk out of 
the office. 
Wipe your hand across your eyes.
==
As you enter onto the freeway, gaze at the numerous happy 
families in their vehicles, dressed nicely, heading to their 
various family gatherings, blissful in their companionship 
that they enjoy. Analyze the dayÕs events in your mind, 
dissecting each nuance and inflection in your conversations, 
and conclude that you still have no idea why this day is one 
that youÕd rather forget. Glance at your cell phone, and dial 
the number you know by heart. Quickly end the call before the 
first ring. Open your briefcase, and bury the phone beneath 
piles of reports that demand your immediate attention. 
Feel the slight shiver move down your spine.
==
Enter your apartment with difficulty, balancing leftovers and 
your briefcase as you walk in. Quickly divest yourself of 
your shoes as you head for the kitchen. Cast a glance at the 
answering machine. No messages. Sigh softly. Realize that 
your partner did not call you, and marvel at his fortitude 
and wisdom. Chuckle softly as you picture him asleep at his 
desk, his pencil supply somewhere ten feet above his head. 
Pick up your cell phone, and dial his office. Ring. Feel your 
heart pound as you wait for him to answer. Ring. Realize that 
you donÕt want to bother him. Ring. Quickly hang up, and as 
you do, a void that you managed to keep together all day 
suddenly splits open in your chest. Laugh nervously.
After all, the bathtub awaits.
==
Enter your bedroom, tossing your suit in the laundry hamper. 
Vaguely notice that the bath did not drive away your chills. 
As you arrange your pillows, and pick up your latest medical 
journal. The words will run together, and the image of your 
contrite partner will fill your mind. Wonder if he knows how 
much sorrow he can convey with his eyes. Your journal will 
lose its appeal, and you try to get comfortable. Realize that 
even if you donÕt hear from him all weekend, he will be at 
work on Monday, cheerfully awaiting your disagreements. You 
smile.
He always does.
Why, you canÕt understand.
Your smile will fade.
End (1/1)
Thanks for making all the way down here! Hope you enjoyed!
-RedDoggX
e-mail: RedDogg57@aol.com
Feedback is always appreciated; in fact, it is devoured like 
air to a drowning man. 
ÒThe only causes worth fighting for are the lost causes.Ó Ð 
Jimmy Stewart, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington