From: "Heather Horn" Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2001 21:16:53 -0600 Subject: Story Revisions Source: revision Title: "The Tangled Web of Time" Rating: PG Author: Heather Horn Category: MSR, A Original Post Date: 11/12/00 Spoilers: "Emily" and "Fight the Future" Timeline: Post-"Arcadia" Summary: The time zones of life and death meet at the crossroads. Distribution: Anywhere and everywhere. Please keep my name attached, and let me know where you are putting it. Thank you! Feedback: Feedback? For moi? I would be honored! Please direct all of your comments to heathabear@hotmail.com. Thank you! Disclaimer: "The X-Files" is copyright Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and the FOX Network. No money is being made from this. No copyright infringement is intended. Acknowledgements: Thank you to my wonderful teacher, Jennifer Fox - I am eternally grateful of you, and I remain forever in your debt. I was lucky enough to have two beta-readers on this piece, Marie Endres and Char Chaffin. Thank you to both of you for your hard work, kind words, and input. I could not have written this story without you. Thank you so much! Thank you, Clemens, for allowing me to use your name! The lyrics from "Piano Man" by Billy Joel are copyright Sony Music. "The Tangled Web of Time" (1/1) By Heather Horn His new number two pencil tapped against the oak wood desktop with ennui, flauntingly greeting the rest of Mulder's collection as it brushed the desk on each gentle tap. A smirk began to grow across Mulder's face as he leaned dexterously back in his chair and aimed the pencil at the ceiling. His right arm drew back in preparation, but before he could release the tiny projectile, an vivacious chime arose from the telephone. Startled by the noise, Mulder lost his balance, and the chair began to tumble backwards. He regained equilibrium in the nick of time, although he was not entirely fortunate. The pencil left his hand and ricocheted off of the desk, causing it to jolt back towards Mulder, the tip grazing his cheek before it fell into his lap. "Mulder," he answered the distraction irritably with one hand, rubbing his injured cheek with the other. "Now, John at the bar is a friend of mine," a voice flowed melodiously through the line. "He gets me my drinks for free." "Who is this?" Mulder demanded impatiently. "And he's quick with a joke, or to light up your smoke, but there's someplace that he'd rather be." "Jonathan? Is that you?" Mulder asked in disbelief. "Who were you expecting, Billy Joel?" "It is you! God, Jonathan, it's been ages!" "Oh, Lord, it has, I know it has. I could shoot myself for not keeping in touch with you - or just let you do it for me." "I wouldn't go that far, Jonathan." "Of course you would. Now, I've got a little favor to ask you, Fox. My baby sister's getting married tomorrow, and I have to fly out for the rehearsal tonight. Clemens was going to cover for me, but he's out sick, and -" "Jonathan, I would love to help you, but I don't know a damn thing about bartending." "Sure, you do! You helped me that week when I was short-handed back in eighty-one!" "That was eighteen years ago!" "You'll do just fine! You'll be in good company, too. Tammie'll be there, she's a great girl, just too new to the job to run the place alone. And Ritchie's still playing piano, after all these years." "Really? Ritchie's still plucking away at the keys?" "All eighty-eight of 'em. So, what do you say? Be there at six to set up?" "All right," Mulder agreed after a long pause. "But you owe me." Mulder let the phone drop back into its cradle as he wondered what he had gotten himself into. He had nothing better to do on a Friday night. Although he found that fact to be slightly disturbing, he knew that he would not miss anything by driving forty-five minutes in rush-hour traffic to the old, rustic tavern in the middle of nowhere that Jonathan called a bar. After sharpening a new pencil from his colossal collection, Mulder resumed his position in the chair, aiming the item with intense concentration and precision. As if on cue, the office door swung open, and his partner slowly entered, struggling beneath the weight of a large box. Mulder barely avoided falling for the second time in ten minutes, this time his legs flailing upwards as he frantically grabbed for the desk to steady himself. "Mulder, I'm going to drop these files that you wanted in about two seconds, and then I'll look even more stupid than you," Scully remarked, yet a hint of a smile still managed to escape from her pursed lips. Mulder stood decisively, pausing momentarily in an attempt to regain his dignity from the chair incident. He took the box from Scully, setting it down on top of a vast array of dusty paperwork and case files. "What've you got in here, rocks?" he questioned, as the box hit the desk with a thump. "Either that, or the files that you asked me to pull," she replied coolly. She waited for him to thank her, but he was already tearing through the box like a toddler on Christmas morning, and that was thanks enough for her. "Mulder, what would you ever do without me?" She laughed. "You don't wanna know." With a content smile from his reply, she bent down to pick up some files that had fallen to the office floor, and stacked them neatly in their place on the desk. "So, Mulder, it's Friday night. Big plans?" "Nah, just doing a favor for an old friend." "The boys aren't making you trek through the Amazon or something wild like that, are they?" "No, no, no, nothing like that," he assured her. "How about you?" "I'm going to my mom's for dinner. Bill, Tara, and Matthew are in from San Diego," her voice softened. "It'll be good to see Matthew, I bet he's huge by now." There was an awkward pause following Scully's mention of the baby, and Mulder hurried to ease the situation with a joke. "Tell Bill I said hi. And that I miss him and the way we used to watch chick flicks and eat Cherry Garcia ice cream on rainy Saturday afternoons," Mulder grinned. Scully laughed, and Mulder looked up from his paperwork at the pleasant surprise. To hear Scully laugh, to hear her genuinely chuckle, was a treat in itself. She shared her polite, professional giggle with him every now and then, but her laugh was in a league of its own. "Say hello to your mother for me. I'll see you on Monday." With that, he was out the door, and Scully watched him go with the smallest hint of a smile on her face before she began to pack up her belongings. "What would I do without him?" she wondered, and headed out the door. Forty-five minutes later, Mulder stopped his car in front of the quaint brick building that read in faded green letters, "Dear Juliana." Juliana was Jonathan's wife, and Mulder had never seen two people more in love than they were. Jonathan had founded the bar after he had been dating Juliana for a year. Beneath the "Dear Juliana" sign, he had painted his proposal in heartfelt letters. It was a fairytale romance of a princess and a knight in shining armor. The only difference was that the story of Jonathan and Juliana was not fiction, nor was it a timeless tale used as a bedtime story used to bring slumber upon young children. Jonathan and Juliana lived "happily ever after," and that was the incontrovertible truth. There were already two cars in the parking lot prior to Mulder's arrival, probably members of the staff. Upon entering the bar, Mulder saw a blond girl in her early twenties wiping down the bar with a wet rag. She had a tiny frame and vibrant blue eyes, and she wore a bright smile on her face. "You must be Agent Mulder," she exclaimed with so much moxie that Mulder could not help but think to himself, "Valley girl." He remained silent, but gave her a nod and a small smile. "I'm Tammie," she continued, not seeming to notice Mulder's silence. When she held out her hand, Mulder shook it and gave her the courtesy of a real smile. "Mister Giovannoni has said so many wonderful things about y -" She was cut short by a holler from the back door. "Tammie, you know that boss tell ya not ta call him 'Mister Giovannoni!'" Ritchie shouted as he entered the bar. "Ritchie! Lord, it's been ages!" Mulder exclaimed, quickly embracing the elderly pianist. Ritchie was a legend, a man of many friends and virtually no enemies. "It be good to have ya back, Fox," Ritchie proclaimed. "It's good to be back, Ritchie," Mulder replied with a grin. "Five minutes 'till we open, people!" Tammie exclaimed. "Let's get to work!" The lights flickered on, Mulder jumped behind the bar, and Ritchie sat down at his piano. As music began to permeate throughout the room, the throng flowed in, taking their seats at the tables and the bar. Tammie waited tables while Mulder stood behind the bar, filling her orders and waiting for someone to sit down at the bar at tell him his or her life story. He watched as Tammie waited on a young couple sitting towards the back. Before he knew it, an older couple had taken a seat close to the piano, and three college boys took a seat in the middle of the room. The customers seemed to enjoy Monica's effervescent personality, but the barstools remained empty for the first hour. After all of his years in Alexandria, Mulder had forgotten what it was like to be in a small-town bar. Eventually, a middle-aged man walked in and sat down at the bar. He had a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth, and Mulder was cautioned by the sign of smoke. For obvious reasons, he did not care for smokers. Tonight, however, he was playing bartender. Playing Jonathan. Playing the role of the all-around nice guy who believes in sugar and spice and everything nice. "What can I get you?" Mulder asked the man with a forced liveliness. "Vodka 7UP, lime and olives," he mumbled, never bothering to look at Mulder. Mulder filled the glass in an impressive matter of seconds, setting it down in front of the man. He seemed to consume the drink before it touched his lips. The man nodded to Mulder, pointing his index fingers at the glass in indication that he wanted more. The man looked angry. Angry at the world, or a friend, or maybe himself. His eyes were glassed over and distanced, and Mulder knew that feeling all to well. The earth had stopped spinning. Someone had stepped on it, and now it was just gum on the bottom of his or her shoe. It was all falling apart, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Yes, Mulder knew that feeling like the back of his hand. What was he supposed to say to man? He remembered the bartender at Casey's. She had asked him simple questions, questions so simple that they barely registered in his mind - and gotten more of an answer than she had bargained for. "Goofy day?" Mulder imitated the bartender from Casey's. "Lonely day," the man answered, finally meeting Mulder's eyes. Then he stood up, threw some bills on the table, and was out the door before Ritchie finished the next measure of his song. Tammie had been standing nearby, and she saw the departure of the man, followed by Mulder's attempt to hide his discouragement. "Don't sweat it, Agent Mulder," she offered. "Some people will tell you their life story, and some people will tell you to go to hell. You just gotta keep trying." "Thanks, kiddo," he gave her a weak smile. Tammie returned his smile with one a thousand times more powerful, then took the tray of drinks Mulder had prepared and carried them to their thirsty recipients. Over the next few hours, Mulder served a martini-guzzling socialite, a paleontologist from New York City, a chief-of-staff at a county hospital, a power plant technician, and a Kinko's employee who had just dumped her boyfriend because he continuously used her employee discount to copy his rear end. They all had interesting stories to tell, and Mulder enjoyed listening. That was all they wanted, someone to listen. They did not ask for ten-dollar words or a sign from above, they just wanted someone to lend an ear. He was enthralled by the fact that in such a material world, it was still the little things in life that made it worth living. Towards the end of the evening, another middle-aged man walked towards the bar. This one had no smoke of any kind protruding from his mouth, and Mulder smiled. "What'll it be?" Mulder perfected his newfound favorite line. "Long Island iced tea," The man replied, returning Mulder's grin with a soft, thoughtful smile. "On second thought, why not make it a strawberry daiquiri?" "Sure thing," Mulder told the customer as he mixed the concoction. "Thanks," he said as Mulder sat the glass in front of him. He listened to Ritchie play for a moment before bringing the beverage to his lips and taking a sip. "Abby loves daiquiris." "Wife?" "I wish. I mean, no, I don't, I don't wish that. That would ruin everything. I mean, maybe I do want it. I don't know what I want. I've known Abby forever. We're best friends. Soul mates. But we're not together." "Do you know why?" "I would die for her, but I would die without her. I love her more than she'll ever know." "Then why not tell her?" "Because I don't want to risking loosing her. I would rather have her as a friend than not have her at all." Mulder knew that giving advice was not in his job description. He was supposed to listen, nod, and get the customer drunk. However, Mulder felt obligated to tell the man what to do. To do what he was too cowardly to do himself. "You would pertain from telling her, so that you could risk not loosing her. Isn't that a pretty big risk in itself?" "What are you talking about?" "You love this woman, this Abby, right? Well, what if she loves you, too? What if she's waiting for you to tell her, but you never do?" "No, not Abby. If she felt anything for me, she'd say it." "How can you be sure?" "I just...I just do." "What if she's sitting in a bar right now, saying to the bartender, 'no, not him, if he felt anything for me, he'd say it'?" "Abby wouldn't do that. She's not like other women." "I'm not questioning your integrity, pal, but everybody makes mistakes, miscalculations. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life wondering?" "No, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone, either." "Well, if you don't tell her, that you're pretty much alone no matter what. If you tell her, there's a chance that you'll have someone to spend your life with." The man's eyes closed, and he inhaled, taking everything in. "Thank you," he whispered as he paid Mulder, and he turned to leave. Mulder smiled, glad that he was able to help the man. Inside, though, he was kicking himself. Hypocrite. The last round of drinks went out, and closing time rolled around. Mulder learned that Tammie was studying to become a doctor, and he came to the conclusion that she was not a "valley girl" after all. He even let her leave early so that she could get some sleep. He claimed that he was still wired, and closing up would help him to wind down. "Well, good-bye, then, Agent Mulder!" She chimed. "It was a pleasure meeting you!" "You too, kiddo," Mulder replied. "Good luck with school." Ritchie stayed to talk to Mulder, and Mulder was glad to be in his company. "So, did Juliana go to the wedding with Jonathan?" Mulder asked. The gleam in Ritchie's eyes vanished as soon as the words had left Mulder's mouth. The old man looked sick to his stomach. "I can't believe he didn't tell you." "Tell me what?" "Juliana died last year. Cancer." Mulder's eyes shut, the color draining from his face. Sure, people died everyday, but how could Jonathan's Juliana die? Wasn't there supposed to be a powerful force within love that was strong enough to shelter people from hardships such as death? No, there is no such force, he decided. The only force is time, and it is no ally of love. Every person who dies is loved by someone, missed by someone, and these people die anyway. Maybe there was no such thing as "happily ever after." There was nothing stopping Juliana from dying. There was nothing stopping anyone from dying. He bit his lip in refusal to come to terms with the fact, although he knew that he had to. There was nothing stopping Scully from dying. After all the countless times that she had been hospitalized with an ailment at the fault of his search for the truth, Mulder should have realized these elements of death long ago. He had encountered death many times, yet it was too excruciating to entertain the notion of Scully's death. Instead, he decided to wait for her peril to cease, and for normal life to return, as it always did. He had become so accustomed to doing so that Scully's recoveries became a fact of life. Past circumstances had led him to believe that if he just ignored the situation, it would eventually disappear. However, the realization was beginning to dawn on him that death could not be prevented. "How's Jonathan been doing?" Mulder found it within himself to ask. "He's the same on the surface, still a happy do-gooder, but he's broken inside. He ain't never gonna love again; ain't never gonna be the same. He didn't believe in love, he believed in Juliana." "Oh. Oh, God," Mulder muttered. "Thank you for everything, Ritchie. It was great seeing you again. I - I'll try to stop by more often. You take care of yourself now, and tell Jonathan I said hi, okay?" "Of course, Fox. God bless you." Mulder washed down the bar one last time, and made sure the entrances were locked securely. He headed for his car once there was nothing more to be done at the bar, but he paused, deep in thought, before putting the key in the ignition. Who would have know that bartending could be such an educational experience? He had learned his lesson. Time does not wait for anyone to get over their fears. It just sits there, a chip on your shoulder, a bomb waiting to go off. It is a race against time, and life must be lived to its fullest before it is too late. He could not imagine how he could begin to tell her how complete she had made him feel, but he would find a way. He had to find a way. There was nothing stopping Scully from dying, he was well aware of that inevitable fact. However, there was nothing stopping her from living, either. He would be taking a chance in telling her, taking the biggest risk of his life. None of that mattered, though, because if he sat idly by, he would be standing in the way of his own happiness, possibly in the way of Scully's. He could not turn back the hands of time, but he could open his mouth and tell her that he loved her. There are chances to be chanced. There are risks to be risked. Above all, there are lovers to be loved in this tangled web of time. THE END (1/1) Thank you for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoyed it! Please send all of your comments - kisses and flames are both greatly appreciated - to heathabear@hotmail.com. Thank you very much! You can find all of my fan fiction and much more at my website, Mulder + Scully = True Love http://mstruelove.tripod.com