From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 5 Sep 2002 02:33:11 -0000
Subject: Unnatural Bridge by bcfan
Source: direct

Reply To: bcfan@shaw.ca


Unnatural Bridge
by bcfan
bcfan@shaw.ca

Rated: PG-13, for language
Classification: SH, Implied MSR, hint of slash
Disclaimer: Not mine, will never be.
Spoilers: Through "The Truth"
Notes at end

Traveling around the countryside was tough, 
considered Scully.  Changing towns and 
identities because of a stranger's mere lingering 
glance made the stresses of a developing 
relationship even harder.    There was only one 
constant in Mulder and Scully's lives - 
basketball.  

It all started innocently enough.  After finally 
emerging from their New Mexico motel, the 
former agents decided on a short stroll before 
moving on.  But when they passed a pick-up 
schoolyard game, Mulder's eyes lit up; before 
they realized, Mulder was enjoying a brief 
moment of camaraderie and Scully - well, she 
was just enjoying the view from a schoolyard 
bench.

It developed into a pattern - new town, new 
search for an outdoor court.  Thus they seemed 
to be traveling across the countryside, one 
basketball game at a time.

August 28 - Wichita, Kansas, 4:07 p.m.

"Hey, Scully, look - another playground court."  
Mulder smiled.  He'd taken to bouncing a 
basketball during their walks, something that 
Scully determinedly refused to let bother her.  
Both wore cut-offs, running shoes and t-shirts; 
Scully added sunscreen and a hat.

Scully glanced at another worn playground 
court, then looked more closely.  The lone 
player was a tall, husky twenty-something who 
outmatched Mulder in size and speed.

"I don't know, Mulder.  You're still limping a 
bit from the last game..."

"Scully." Mulder sounded scandalized.  "I got 
game!"  He waggled his eyebrows.  "Care to 
make a private little free-throw wager?  If I win, 
I can have my way with you, if you win..."

Scully laughed.  "I get your drift.  Just be 
careful, Milk." 

As Scully lounged on the scratchy brown grass 
at the side of the court, she watched in 
amusement as Mulder and his muscled opponent 
wordlessly sized each other up and began to 
play.  Was it the hot sun that made Mulder's 
opponent strip off his shirt?  Was it mere 
aggressiveness that made their sweating bodies 
bump and grind against each other in an effort to 
score?  Scully flushed as she realized that the 
stranger seemed to be feeling an increasing 
physical attraction for her man.   Scully would 
have been miffed, but she was getting pretty hot 
herself.

The bump and grind of aggressive play came to 
an immediate halt when the stranger roughly 
elbowed Mulder in the mouth while trying to 
make a tight shot.

"Mulder!" Scully shouted in dismay.  As Mulder 
staggered then sat on the pavement, she saw 
blood pouring from his mouth.  

"You - " Scully pointed at the stranger, "get 
help."  The guilty-looking man hotfooted it off 
the court, forgetting his backpack in the dust.  
She then sat next to Mulder on the court, and 
wiped his face with his discarded t-shirt.

"Open up, Mulder," Scully gently urged.  
Mulder tried to talk, "Ith hurth, Thully."

"Oh, Mulder...your front two teeth are broken.  
I'm afraid you're going to need some bridge 
work immediately."

"No, Thully, noth a denthith," he moaned. 

"Yup," Scully sighed.  "We better get going.  
That bleeding cut on your lip is pretty bad, and I 
don't want to have to try to carry you."

Scully steadied Mulder as they rose, then 
snagged the basketball and the abandoned 
backpack on their way out of the court.  "Can't 
leave that backpack here," she reasoned.  
"Besides, that guy might have some I.D. - or 
insurance."

Scully supported Mulder as they slowly walked 
up the block, then stopped in front of a pet store 
that had a convenient bench.  "You sit here, 
Mulder - I'll go in and see if there's a dentist 
nearby."

Scully came back out with a paper cup of water 
in her hand.  She gently patted Mulder's 
shoulder as he stared in glazed pain at a fish 
tank in the pet store window.  One that was a 
seeming duplicate of Mulder's own.  "My fith," 
Mulder murmured sadly. Yet another loss.

"Here," she handed him the cup.  "Don't 
swallow, just rinse and spit.  That should make 
your mouth feel better."

Mulder gratefully followed her suggestion and, a 
few minutes later, a taxi appeared at the road's 
edge.

"I called a taxi, Mulder.  The dentist is waiting 
for us.  We're lucky that he's an orthodontic 
specialist - he said that if you needed a bridge, 
he'd get started on reconstruction right away."

Mulder sighed - he didn't even try to talk.  
Scully was right, he knew he needed to see the 
dentist immediately.

At the Motel - later that evening

It was with great relief that Scully helped 
Mulder into the motel room.  Both collapsed on 
the bed, exhausted.  Luckily, the damage to 
Mulder's teeth would be easily repaired, and the 
dentist had assured Scully that Mulder's bridge 
would look almost natural.  Mulder was just 
grateful he could be patched up and on the road 
soon.  Scully kissed Mulder's forehead then put 
ice in a small towel and gently applied it to 
Mulder's puffy lip.  They gazed at each other in 
affection for long moments, until a wince told 
Scully that he needed more medicine. 

Mulder relaxed back on the bed as Scully got 
up, fetched a small vial, and shook out his 
painkiller.  Handing it to him to take with a 
glass of water, Scully smiled.  "Remember our 
little wager, Mulder?  I'll hold you to it later 
when your kissing is up to speed."  Mulder tried 
to grin around his swollen mouth.  "But Mulder, 
a word of constructive criticism - you've got 
game, Milk, but from now on please stick to 
opponents in your weight and age range."

Mulder nodded ruefully.  Within minutes the 
painkillers started to take effect; soon he was 
quietly snoring.

Scully, propped up next to Mulder on the bed, 
spied the stranger's backpack.  "Might as well 
take a look," she thought, "I'll hand it in 
tomorrow morning."

The only thing in the backpack, besides a spare 
pair of sweat socks, was a black notebook - 
some kind of journal or diary.  Curious, Scully 
opened to the first page.

"July 19, 2002" it read -
"Just started the craziest acting job in the world.  
I'm supposed to find b-ball partners and make 
my way across the U.S., playing games and 
earning money in each town before I can 
leave..."

Scully shut the journal with a snap.  "Only 
Mulder," she thought with affection, "would 
have a pick-up basketball game turn into 
someone's weird kind of quest.  Must be an x-
file!"

Cheered by the absurdity of it all, Scully flicked 
off the bedside lamp and snuggled next to her 
comatose partner.  "Night, Milk," she 
whispered.  And sighed gratefully into sleep 
beside him.

Authors notes:  This is apart of Havens first 
challenge.  The elements are:

- not over 30k long

- Mulder, Scully or Skinner offering
constructive (!we mean that!) criticism 

- A Journal (preferably a blog) 

- Something slashy 

- Mulder's fishtank 

- A bridge, the game of bridge, or Omar Sharif.
Your choice