From: "REALITY" <bigbrat19@earthlink.net>
Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2000 23:12:58 -0500
Subject: a story about Scully at fourteen
Source: direct

Reply To: bigbrat19@earthlink.net


Title: Z! A SCULLY LOVE STORY
Author: Reality
Email: bigbrat19@earthlink.net (I love feedback)
Archive: Please
Category: VR - Vignette/Romance (Scully/other romance)
Rating: G
Spoilers: Never Again
Keywords: Scully/other romance, first kiss, first love, haunted house,
Scully family
Summary: Scully reflects back on the love of her life when she was fourteen
years old.
Disclaimer: Z's my character, but as you know, the Scully family and all
related X-Files characters are Chris Carter's brain child, and all rights
belong to him, Fox, 1013 etc. I'm getting no money from this, it's all in
fun.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I was almost killed, it keeps running through my mind. And almost killed
because Mulder said "do you have a date" Scully, like it was the most
impossible occurrence on the planet Earth. So I showed him up by going out
with Ed Jerse and almost got killed. Had I asked for Ed Jerse? Wanted
someone like him the same way I wanted Z.  Z, I haven't thought about him
in awhile. 

He came into my life with that first puff. I stole the cigarette two days
before, getting a thrill out of just having the thing. But like a siren, it
called me to smoke it.  And on the evening of my fourteenth birthday I did.
Of course, like most, I gagged and coughed till I was blue in the face that
first time, but it didn't stop me. This was only a challenge to master it
without such effects. So I continued on the porch, in my pink pajamas,
wearing a flannel robe and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers while the house
slept. My high outweighed my silly apparel, so I didn't really think about
how I looked. And that high was not a product of the nicotine, much like
having stolen the cigarette, the thrill was in the forbidden, the
mysterious, the unknown. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed little Scully," a voice rattled in the shadows.

I quickly tried to put out the cigarette, nearly falling off my perch on
the step before I recognized the voice as that of Z.  I sighed in relief,
but was still angry at him for ruining my experiment with the cigarettes.

"Shouldn't you be at home Mr. Z," I replied. Z  had been derived from his
last name Zalinsky. Often the only one in his class with a Z in his last
name, a teacher of his had begun calling him Mr. Z. His friends caught on
and soon everyone was calling him Z.

"I didn't know you were so saucy little Scully," Z shot back, winking at me.

Well that did it, the wink had me blushing and I was praying that the
darkness around him would keep him from seeing it.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," I said shaking the ashes
from my Pajamas and turning my bunny slippers toward the door.

I think I had retained a cool demeanor, but the truth be told, I was crazy
about Z. I couldn't believe he had winked at me. I couldn't breath, I
couldn't think, Z was my god. Unfortunately, he was a seventeen year old
high school student and I was still a fourteen year old girl, barely
graduated from the ranks of junior high. However, as I snuck back to my
room, my mind was filled with Z. His image was etched in my mind, that long
black hair that his father constantly told him to cut, his slim form that
bespoke grace with each step, those unknown mysterious eyes that had
remained hidden behind those smoked glasses for as long as I could
remember, and that leather jacket. It seemed tailored to fall just right on
his body, to fit his personality, but he in fact had picked it up for five
dollars at a garage sale. I only knew this because he and my sister Melissa
had been going out at the time.

No more hell was raised in our house than when those two were dating. Lucky
for me, that was long over. My crush on Z was never shared with my sister,
but she figured it out. She knew me better than I ever gave her credit for.
My big brother Bill had no patience for Z, dating his sister or not. I
think Bill was just mad that Z didn't worship him the way he had when they
were younger. Before Charles was born, Z had been his surrogate little
brother. He was obviously jealous when Z decided hanging out with his
sister was more stimulating than hanging out with him. 

Before going back to bed, I stole another cigarette. If the first one
brought Z to me, I couldn't wait to smoke another. The next morning, I sat
through breakfast with it in my pocket sure someone would see the outline
of it or somehow catch something was off about me and find it. Z was our
resident bad boy so before the falling out with his father, I imagined this
is how Z felt. Like he was on the edge of trouble, pushing his limits just
to see when they would snap, if they would snap.

After school, I found a quiet place and smoked my second cigarette. I
didn't gag or cough, but it was still the forbidden nature that excited me
more than anything. And again, as if beckoned by the smoke, he appeared.

"You know these things can become very addicting little Scully," he said
with that seductive smile.

"Why do call me little Scully."

"Because your Missy's little sister." 

"Charles is the baby, not me."

"Yes, I know," Z said reaching out to pull the cigarette from my mouth, his
finger brushing my lips. I always pin point that as my first erotic moment,
because just the feel of Z's finger brushing my lip, sent shivers from the
point of contact to the base of my spine and back again. He took a few
puffs before he handed it back to me.

"So, How long have you been smoking?"

"Counting today? This is my second one," I admitted reluctantly.

"Why do you do it?"

"I don't know, just because I want to."

"Are you sure there's no reason?" Z asked as he removed the smoked glassed
I thought unremovable. 

My first view of his true eyes had me frizzled. They were green, beautiful
emerald green eyes like his mother, rest in peace. I could have melted the
moment the masterpiece that was my god had been completed. I prayed I
wasn't looking as stunned as I felt. 

"Little Scully, it's your choice, now that you've tempted yourself, you can
either step forward or back."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you planning for this to lead you back or forward."

"Neither, just experimenting."

"And what else would you like to experiment with little Scully," he
replied, almost hissing the S in my name. A sudden warmth flushed my over
me, little Scully was easily becoming my favorite term of endearment. It
wasn't  as if he was making fun of my age or my height, just creatively
finding a way to identify me. But I knew I was just a little sister type to
him, if he identified me in relation to my sister. Though my actual big
brother would have killed me for stealing a cigarette, let alone smoking
it. 

"Are you up for an adventure little Scully?" he asked presenting his hand.
I put out my cigarette and took it before my brain fully processed the
action. Amazingly, his hand was soft, really soft and warm. For some
reason, I expected the hands of this forbidden man to be coarse and hard.
But it was as warm and soft as a newborn. 

We walked in silence to an abandoned house that had been deamned haunted by
us all. No one went there on purpose, kids rode their bikes a little faster
when they went by it. I myself had crashed into another bike rushing past.
The broken bike still sat in the garage. But Melissa, who's secrets I held
like treasures, had went in with Z and lost her virginity. She said that Z
had brought her hear, challenged her to face her fear, and then taken her
in a moment of pure passion. Melissa didn't have much joy in her voice on
the subject of Z anymore, except when recalling that moment.

"Did Missy tell you about this place?"

"I already know all the ghost stories."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well I figure she wouldn't have told her brothers or her father. And your
mother doesn't seem like the type to discuss those type of things. So I
figure she told her tough little sister."

"Tough?" Something about that word worried me. 

"I didn't mean that as an insult. You should talk to Missy. Sometimes she
feels left out. Your one of the boys. You're the little apple of your
father 's eye. You wanted to learn to sail, to do whatever the boys did.
She's jealous of that bond between you and him. You even have your own
little nicknames."

"She's not jealous," I said really doubting anything he said. Missy would
have told me. Besides, I was the one who was jealous, my sister was free I
was jailed by my own need to be accepted by my father and my brothers. What
did Z think I was rebelling against?

"Dana," a voice yelled in the distance. I didn't recognize the shrill,
sharp, almost disciplinary like tone as belonging to Melissa right away.
And when I did I was quite surprised, only dad, Bill, and mom had ever
exhibited this tone before. 

"Dana, what are you doing?" she asked ripping my hand from Z's.

"Nothing," I replied as innocently as possible.

"Nothing? Here, with him?"

"You're not mom"

"Well, I'm sure mom or DAD wouldn't approve of him, or this," Melissa said
pulling the cigarette from my pocket. 

Despite becoming a Melissa I didn't know, I was glad it was her dragging me
home and not dad. It turned out she had smelled the smoke on me when I
snuck back in bed that night. She didn't say anything else about Z on the
way home or that evening. So I thought the issue had been dropped. But that
night when Melissa and I were alone in the room, he came up again.

"I know the look, I had it," she said softly.

"What look?"

"Your flirting with danger and it's a high. And with each high, you just
want to go further, because you need to top the last just to feel the same.
Dana, he's entrancing, I know, but. . ."

"But what?"

"Your not ready for him."

She was just jealous. Stay away from Z? He came to me and I liked it.
Telling me to stay away now was like letting me lick a lollypop then
telling me never to eat sweets again. I couldn't do it. 

I was restless that night, tossing and turning. Kicking off my covers,
pulling them on. Staring at the clock, thinking hours had passed only to
discover it was minutes. As soon as I was sure Melissa was asleep I jumped
out of bed and put on jeans and a T-shirt. And I rarely wore wore jeans.
Completing the quick outfit with sneakers, I stole a couple cigarettes and
left the house. I swiped my brother's bike and headed right for the haunted
house. I have yet to figure out what motivated me to any of these actions.
I knew if my brother found out I had taken his bike, he would kill me. That
only upped the stakes of my gamble with danger.

Though I could only admit it to myself, being alone in the dark scared me.
I had only been facing that fear recently. But tonight, I was daring fear
to make me run. I needed to go in that house, to know what my rational mind
already knew, there were no ghost. 

In the light of day, beside Z, our resident haunted house had looked like
nothing. But in even at a distance, the darkness that surrounded it was
spooky, haunting, erie, all those things that make haunted houses acquire
their names. All it was missing was some hundred year old owner that
children would call a witch. Many proclaimed creepy sounds had come from
the home, especially around Halloween. I never believed it in my rational
mind, but somewhere inside I still feared that it was true.

"Boo," a voice said, giving me a jolt. Z laughed as he skateboarded around
me. I couldn't believe I hadn't heard his approach. 

"Z, you nearly made me fall off my brother's bike"

"Did I?"

"How did you know I would be here?"

"How did you know I would?"

"I don't know, I just felt the need to come back."

"So little Scully, are you going on or are you afraid of ghost?"

"I'm not afraid of ghost, I don't believe in them."

"Can I tell you a story little Scully?"

"What's it about?"

"It's the same story your sister told you, except from my lips."

As he said the word lips, my eyes were glued to his.

"Tell me the story," I finally said. He presented me with his soft hand
again. I took it and stepped away from my brother's bike. Knowing it would
probably hit the ground and wind up scratched. I didn't care though, at
that moment my world became and was Z. Their was this energy transferred
between us through that contact. All I knew and cared about was this moment
with him.

"Your sister and I talked about it all the time, going inside the "haunted"
house. First we just kind of walked past it slowly, always during the day.
We'd talk about how much we feared it when we were little kids and pretend
we didn't still fear it." 

He walked me toward the steps of the house. My legs turned to jelly with
each step, both because of the thrill of being with him, my own immature
irrational fear of the place, and from the idea of doing something
forbidden. I was with Z, an older guy, the troublemaker my father didn't
want near his girls. We stopped at the steps and sat down. 

"Then we started sitting on these steps," Z said continuing his story.
"We'd talk about all the "evil" stories we heard about this house and how
ridiculous some of them were, laughing at it. We always had one eye on the
door, expecting something to rush at us or chase us away."

Melissa had never told me about these baby steps, she had made it seem like
they just challenged the house one day. Burst in, taken the bull by the
horns, and erupted into passion. 

"Are you ready little Scully?"

"For what?" I said shocked at this up front invitation.

"To go inside? That's what you came here for."

I gulped.

"Sink or swim little Scully."

"Swim," I yelled and ran into the house before I lost my nerve. But once I
was inside, I asked myself what in the hell I was doing. I was tapped on
the shoulder and yelled before rationalizing that Z must have came in
behind me. He pulled out a flashlight.

"There's nothing in here little Scully. You know that, but because of the
way it's dressed you afraid." Z flashed the light around the house. "See,
kitchen, living room, a few bedrooms upstairs. Nothing that isn't in any
house."

He took my hand and walked me into the living room, where the furniture
time forgot lay draped in white sheets. He flashed the light on a family
portrait over the fireplace.

"Some family lived here years ago. Just like yours or mine. Kids once
laughed and played in that back yard. A mom cooked in that abandoned
kitchen. Perhaps the parents danced in this living room. Right about now,
the mom and dad were probably curled up in bed, making love or just
cuddling with each other. The kids were tucked safely in their beds,
dreaming of magic fairies." He felt me relax in his hand as he told the
tale.

"Your definitely not Melissa, she took hours to get comfortable. Maybe she
never quite got comfortable. I was here on a mission, to find out if there
were monsters in places like this. But it's all dressing, just like my
family, my dad. Anyway, Melissa wanted out of here after a few seconds. But
I wasn't finished exploring, so to calm her down, I kissed her. She was
like 'no, not here'. I said, 'let go of the fear. It's just an old house
and nobody's home.' She wasn't convinced, so I decided to tell her a real
monster story, making her swear never to tell another soul. See, what I
found out is monsters don't live here, but somewhere else. The place I
always thought they did."

Z handed the flashlight to me. He took off the jacket and I heard the heavy
leather hit the floor. Then he began to lift his shirt and my face flushed
all over again. He turned his back to me as the shirt went over his head
and on his back were bruises and lashes. 

"Oh my God," I said reaching out to inspect the scar, careful not to hurt
him as I touched it. "Do they still hurt?"

"No," Z sighed. "He can't hurt me anymore. Even if he hits me, I finally
understand he's a monster. That's what monster's do. You can't expect any
different." Z smiled at me. "You looked so concerned. Are you thinking of
being a doctor?"

"No," I laughed, at the time the thought was ridiculous.

"You should be. Your hands are gentle."

I blushed at the comment. 

"Did your father do this?" I asked.

"Yes, he did it. I was never good enough for him." Z sighed and sat on the
old couch. "I wanted to be a man little Scully. I knew if I felt like a
man, I could take it. And I thought somehow sleeping with a girl would make
me a man. I mean, isn't that what guys always boast about. I took advantage
of your sister. She felt sorry for me and she was vulnerable." He sighed
and cupped my face in his hands. "There are real monsters and there are
haunted houses. So why your testing your limits, never forget that you're
still vulnerable and monsters they don't live in haunted houses, their
packaging isn't that obvious."

"Are you a monster or a haunted house."

"Haunted house. I'm doing my best to look creepy, but I'm really harmless
and hoping my window dressing will be enough to convince people otherwise."

I stared into the eyes of my god and finally saw him as a human, a boy on
the brink of manhood. An injured puppy who had problems just like anybody
else. Unlike myself, maybe even Melissa, he wasn't looking for a thrill. He
was looking for an escape. And what he was escaping was a mountain my small
molehill of problems. Then I saw the survivor. I reached out and hugged
him, I felt he needed it more than anything else. He returned my affection,
with his strong arms and I drowned in this simple intimacy. Had he ever
hugged Melissa like this? I wouldn't ask, it wasn't I appropriate. 

"Why did you tell me?" I whispered in his ear.

"I saw where you were going, I just wanted you to realize that there are
worse problems then the ones your running from, so have fun, but step
carefully."

We broke our embrace. Z had saved me from being used from some guy using my
flirtation with danger against me, the way he had Melissa. He saved me from
myself. His revelation made me respect my father even more for being able
to lay down the law, without laying a fist or anything else upon us. Sure
we made our mistakes, but he never resorted to that. 

Our eyes never left each other. I wanted to kiss him, just because I wanted
him to be that first kiss. So I leaned in to kiss him and he pushed me away.

"Your doing this out of pity."

"No I'm not, I'm doing this because I finally see you, the person, Z."

I leaned in again, hoping he'd let me kiss him. But he gave me pause by
placing a finger to my lips. 

"Little Scully, Let them come to you. Never show them you weak for them or
they already posses you. Posses them instead." 

I smiled and he came to me, touching my lips ever so gently with his. I let
him lead, though I wanted to take control. But I could only hold out for so
long, the new sensation was driving me wild. So I attempted to match his
kiss. Needless to say, Z taught me things about making out that night that
would ruin me for many a boy. But making out is all we did. Z wouldn't
allow it to go any further.

We smoked the cigarettes I stole before I went home that night. And when I
finally did go home, I had been completely transformed. I had started my
journey to womanhood. I had awaken my sexuality. 

And learned a lesson about the true monsters of the world. I always thought
the people who did things like Z's dad had done, lived in slums or grew up
in crime families. I never looked at Z's father the same. I never looked at
the world the same and I never looked at myself the same.

I hung out with Z for the next two days and then he disappeared. When I
found out he was gone, I was grief stricken. Only Melissa made the
connection to Z. I think the incident brought us closer.

I saw Z again when I was attending Medical School. He had a wife and a
little girl named Katherine. I didn't even know he knew my first name, let
alone my middle name, yet he named his little girl after me. He said he
wanted her to have my spirit. At the time he was a counselor for battered
wives and abused children.

I think Z is more like Mulder than he ever was like Ed Jerse. Sure they
were all injured puppies trying to act like big bad wolves. But like Z,
just when I thought I knew Mulder he showed me some new trick. Just when I
thought I knew the extent of his pain, I found out it ran deeper. And I
like the fact he calls me Scully, it somehow feels connected to that sexual
peak in my life. And Mulder has a way of saying Scully that is quite
seductive. Z said let them come to you, but it was Ed who came to me in a
moment of frustration. Yet, at the end of the day I'm still waiting for
Mulder.


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