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Title: And The Music Touched Her Summary: Mulder died two years ago in a car crash. Scully no longer works on the X Files, she is a doctor. She's lonely, and wants to fill the void in her heart. See the way she chooses to. . . Sigh. . . Okay folks! You know the drill, we have to have that disclaimer! Hopefully this is a new one to you. . . Scully kicks butt Cancer Man's the enemy Do not steal my pretty song I am not making money on this (Hey, if I could write a cool disclaimer like that the story must rock! Right? Right? You still with me? ) You can reprint my story anywhere, just tell me, and also don't rewrite it, k? And. . . FEEDBACK! FEEDBACK! Please! ! ! ! ! ! Here goes!
"If there's an iced tea in that bag, could be love. . ." ". . . must be fate, Mulder. Rootbeer."
Dr. Dana Scully was having a rough day. The pediatric emergency ward was having a slew of problems. A young teen had been brought in with gunshot wounds, a baby with severe heart defects, a girl with pnuemonia. It was a trying ordeal for her to see all those little faces locked in gruesome pain, or worse still to see them blank, and cold, and empty. If it wasn't for her ability to shut down her emotions and see each case from a purely medical point of view, Dana thought she might have gone crazy long ago. She said goodbye to a worried mother and made her way to the staff lounge. There, she found temporary solitude in gulping down an entire can of Pepsi. Leaning her tired back against the worn brown couch, she listened to the stream of endless chatter that flowed through the waiting room. A baby's thin wail broke out among the confusion, adding chaos to an already disorderly place. Dana sighed and tossed back the rest of the soda when she heard the unmistakeable voice of a little boy saying, "Mommy, is it almost time to go home?" The woman, who she assumed to be his mother replied," Almost, Fox." And with those two little words, Dana collapsed on the couch again. Fox. A flash of real-yet-ethereal shock rippled through her. She could still, to this day, not think of him without wincing. The pain hadn't grown any lesser, though her mother had assured her it would. She didn't, in her deepest part of her soul, want to forget, though. The memory of how she had felt That Night, recieving a cold telephone call from an unimpassioned police officer stayed with her- "I regret to inform you that your partner, Fox Mulder, has been involved in a serious car crash. He is in critical condition." She had dropped the phone and ran to her car, driving to the hospital immediately. She got to the hospital in record time, but for some reason they wouldn't let her see Mulder. She screamed at everyone about being an FBI agent, let me in dammit, but everyone had ignored her. Finally she found Skinner, and demanded he help her see him. He had taken her gently into a nearby room, sat her down as if she were a child, and said gently, "Mulder died, Dana. His body was so mangled that positive identification would have been impossible if we had not known it was his car. We didn't want you to have to see him that way. We knew you two were very close. . are you all right?" She sobbed, unable to speak, and Skinner hugged her uncomfortably. There was nothing he could say. He had known all along that the two were in love, but always in denial. He could never have spoken up - FBI protocol dictated his actions. Now it was too late.
The funeral was on a rainy Sunday. Only those whom Mulder had known and trusted were there, and Dana had asked them to play the song "Walkin In Memphis. "It had been her favorite ever since they had danced together to it. She wished they could open the casket so she could have kissed him goodbye, but the coffin was sealed shut. After the service, they had gone out with their black umbrellas and buried him. As they scooped the dirt over the grave she felt an odd urge to open the casket to see if there was nothing left of him but sand, recalling Emily. And she made her silent promise - "I'll never love another, Mulder, you are my soulmate" - and had dropped a white rose onto his casket while the crystal tears from heaven fell- Mulder's tears, she thought. As the days blurred into each other, the numbness she had felt after her sister Melissa's death, engulfing her and adding to her title of "The Ice Queen," disappeared and turned into endless tears. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had been rage, but the feeling of helplessness was unbearable. She would never see Mulder again. Her life became bland, faceless, undirected. Her iron control slipped. She lost interest in her work-without Mulder, it wasn't right. Even Skinner, who had been so supportive, had later said gently that maybe she was overdoing the grief a little, and suggested a blind date. She had snapped back a cold, cutting reply, and that was when she realized that she couldn't work on the X Files anymore. Too many ghosts of Mulder, his lazy grin, his puppy eyes, his looks that told her what she never heard in words. She sent in her two weeks notice, packed up her things, and left. She had found the job as a pediatric emergency room doctor and never looked back. Her control was held again only by her. . . until that little boy's voice had reopened the wound freshly. She recalled how Mulder had always called her "Scully" from the beginning, at first professional, but then it seemed to soften almost to a term of endearment. . . love. They had known without speaking of one another's forever affection. It was an unspoken truth. Sometimes she had wondered through her haze of pain, whether the FBI had something to do with this. Most likely, they had. But the thought never occured to her that they had lied about how his death occured. She always had a tiny, niggling hope in the back of her mind that Mulder wasn't dead-that bond they had wasn't broken-that he was looking for her. Always, she banished it. But it never completely disappeared. Dana shook herself from her gloom. It was over two years ago. Mulder was dead, gone. Love would never come into her life now, it was a fact she had come to accept. She sighed heavily, picked up her papers, and went back to work.
6:17 PM She sat down on her plushy couch, clicked on the T. V. , and looked around at her surroundings. She realized for the first time how. . . "Ikea" it looked. It practically shouted "Better Homes and Gardens. "Ugh. Well, too bad. It's paid for, she reminded herself, thinking of the credit cards she worked her butt off to pay down. An old monster flick was on. How many times had Mulder come over because "he couldn't sleep?" They'd watch a hideously bad movie from the 50's on TMC, and then crash on the couch together. She remembered waking up one morning to find their hands entwined and other his hand on her. . . well, where it shouldn't have been. She tried to move it and realized that he was awake. "What's with the teenage groping?" she'd asked. "I was feeling your heart beat," he'd replied with a smile that made that same heart melt. Lonely, that's what she was. Just lonely for Mulder. . . a man, she corrected. Emotions could prey on you so easily. That was a reason she'd developed her "iron control": so no one could hurt her, emotionally or professionally. Little did she know that it would ironically be that same control that attracted the very man who had unintentionally hurt her so much. "Enough self pity, Dana!" she said aloud, reaching for the remote. She flipped through the channels and came to MTV. "Maybe watching some hormonal teenagers flirting will calm me down," she told herself. Fat chance, she thought. A new Janet Jackson video was on. She laughed at the backdrop, an African desert. Probably some sound booth, though they did a good job of decorating it. Very good. Yawn. She was about to change channels when she realized what the words were. She hadn't even listended to it, she was studying the background so intently. Oh, you're always in control, It hit her hard. Hurriedly she changed it to CNN. After ten minutes of Rush Limbaugh, she curiously turned back to the music channel. A new song was on, by Paula Cole. I don't wanna wait And I don't wanna wait What was with the perceptiveness of the videos tonight? Were they all out to remind her of Mulder? But with a scornful snort, she thought, everything reminded her of Mulder. Fuck him, she thought, he left me all alone. Goddammit, it wasn't fair. Why? She fingered the cross at her neck, the one Mulder had worn so many times. Was God real? She'd always been taught that is was, but what if it was just another idea made up by the same humans who brought the world PCP, Hitler, and liposuction? Welcome to "Screw your Fate, the Gameshow where you believe in things that aren't real!" Would a truly loving God take away the man she knew was her soulmate? Why did such cruel deeds occur at the hand of the invisible being who was said to be loving? Why? An old poem she read in a book once came back to her in a flash of photographic memory. The sky is deep, the sky is dark Well, I see no reason to perservere, Too bad she never paid attention in philosophy class. Maybe she could have gotten something from it. Turning off the set, she went to bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
"Dana?" called her supervisor. "Yes?" she called back. She had been sitting at her desk in her office, absently doodling on a napkin. She looked down to see what she had drawn. An alien. Huh huh huh. "We need backup in room 433. A little boy with a deep gash, penetrated artery." "K. "She tossed the napkin in the trash, and went down the hall. Inside 433 was a mother and her child, a cute little boy with brown hair and eyes. Dana's heart sank when she saw how deep it went. It would require quite a few painful stitches. "Hi," she said softly. "What's your name?" "Muh-muh-Matthew. I hurted my arm," he hiccuped piteously between sobs. "Ohh, it looks like it hurts bad. We'll get you feeling better, okay?" He nodded. "How did this happen?" She turned to the mother to realize that it wasn't even his. A nametag on her chest said, "Ana De Graves, County Social Worker." She looked indifferent and annoyed. "Matthew was playing where he shouldn't have been. He dropped a glass jar on the floor and then was playing with it. He. . ." "I trieded to pick it up. I-I didn't want you tuh get m-m-mad, Ms. De Graves." Dana's heart melted. Was this little boy an orphan? The other woman's compassion didn't seem to rise, though. "Enough! You are a very disobediant little boy. It's no wonder no one will adopt you, Matthew! Who could love you?" He tried very hard to hold back his tears at this last pronouncement, but two big alligator tears slipped past his nose. Dana's maternal hackles rose. Though she had never before seen this little boy, she felt an odd bond between them, like the one she and- <don't think about him> She flashed out at the nasty Ms. De Graves. "I could love him! I think I do already! And who could love you, you. . . meanie!" she said, for Matthew's benefit. "In fact, I just might adopt him myself!" Two incredulous pairs of eyes swung towards her. What had made her say that?
9:01 pm She just couldn't stop thinking about what she had said that afternoon at the hospital. Did she actually think she could adopt a child of her own? Though Matthew was undoubtedly a sweetheart, there was just no way possible Dana could care for a kid with her hectic job. Besides, after losing Emily, she didn't want to think about having to go through the grief process a second time if she lost him for some reason. <Third time, Dana. You also lost- > Shaking her head, she absently sat on the couch. The TV flicked on all by itself. What was going on? she asked hereself. Were the paranormal abnormalities she had studied in her earlier years coming back to haunt her? Then she noticed the rectangular, hard thing underneath her. The controller. Get a grip, Dana Katherine Scully. She grabbed it from under her, and settled into the cushions. The channel was set to VH-1, the "almost over-the-hill music crowd. Curl up under a comforter and watch our network cause you have nothing to do and no one to do it with" channel. She sighed. The top ten weekly videos were on. Will Smith's "Men in Black" was at number seven. She cracked up at the video's portrayal of government agents, bumbling idiots who couldn't tell a rifle from a thermometer. Obviously you had to be in "Division 6 " to be even considered remotely smart. She wondered if there really was something like that, maybe Cancer Man worked for them. Of course, it wouldn't be so cute and funny and "hah, we saved the galaxy, all in a day's work, no one important died," because in reality, everyone was important, and nothing was so simple. Meredith Brooks' song," What would happen if we. . . " was next up. It was a good song, with a slow, sexy drawl. She found herself getting caught up in it. What would happen if we kissed? It brought back good memories of Mulder. . . all those times when she had wondered those exact same feelings, if not words. The dance. . . the iced tea. . . the field. . . Christ! The man was dead two years and she was fantasizing about him! Couldn't she have a life after him? Maybe Skinner was right. Time to whip out that little black book. . . . only she didn't have one. Mulder was the person for that. 4:21 PM What the hell was she doing here? She couldn't possibly be thinking of adopting Matthew, could she? It would have to require a lot of time and thought, and even then the answer would probably be no. But here she was, pulling up in front of the adoption agency for her 4:30. She berated herself aloud," Dana Scully, you cannot adopt a child. With your busy schedule, you get tired enough. Don't you have too many things to worry about as it is? And I think. . ." She shut up when she noticed the strange looks coming from the other people in the parking lot. It wouldn't help her case if they thought she was a mental patient.
Later, inside the office, she had talked to a social worker, not the same rude woman she had met that day at the hospital. She had also learned more about Matthew. He had just come in four weeks ago, found living on the street. They assumed he was the daughter of an unwed teenager who couldn't care for him anymore, since he had been found with a shirt on that had "Matthew" written in permanenet ink on the front. They had checked him for signs of drug damage, but though they had found needle scarrings all up and down his skinny little arms, the several blood tests they had done showed no sign of drugs in his system. He was perfectly healthy, bodywise, not even undernourished. But he was emotionally scarred. He wouldn't speak for three days, and when he did, all he did was call for "M". "M. . . M. . . . M. "On the third day he began to talk, but his face showed no emotion at all. He had a habit of stuttering, and sometimes at night he would open the window and look up at the sky, calling for M again. Dana didn't like hearing his case history, especially the last part. She didn't believe Matthew was anything but human, but she knew of some humans who could be crueler than any alien being you could imagine. <And also some who didn't mean to be cruel, but still hurt me. . . > She was called back every few days for more interviews. They came and checked out her apartment, her job, her life. And every day she met with Matthew. She wondered how it was that she had come to love him so quickly. It felt so natural to be his mother, she couldn't think of being anything else. Finally, one day, the news came. Dana was approved for adoption. It had taken a lot of time, and red-tape cutting to get through to this point, but she had made it. Thank God, Matthew, ward of the state, was now Matthew James Scully. The first night she had taken him home, he had seemed a little wary of her surroundings. She worried about the room she had prepared for hm, decorated with baseball things. She hoped he would like it. As he slipped his little hand into hers, she panickedly realized that she knew nothing about being a parent. And what if Matthew died, just like Emily had? For a moment she thought she would pass out from fear of what she didn't know, but then suddenly she heard Mulder's voice in her head. <Scully, no one knows exactly how to bring up a child. There's no manual. . . you just do the best you can. . . and you'll be a wonderful mother if you just listen to your heart. > Smiling reassuredly, she took Matthew to his room. He stood there until she said," Matthew, don't you like it?" He turned and with a look of wonder, said," This is for me?" Her heart turned over to think that he had probably never even owned a simple pair of shoes before. "Yes," she said softly. "You'll be fed right from now on. . . you'll have all the things you never got there. And I promise that I'll always love you. Always, Matt." Again, he burst into tears. "C-c-can I call you Mommy? They nuh-never let me call them Mommy at the or-orphanage." "Of course. I'm your Mommy now, honey. Now change into your PJ's, go brush your teeth, and hop into bed." "Will you stay with me, please?" She made a mental resolve to take this poor, lovestarved little boy to Toys R' Us and spend her enitre paycheck on stuff for him. "Yes. I will." He had fallen asleep quickly, but before, he had tentatively given her a hug, and then a kiss. "G'night, Mommy," he said. "Goodnight, Matt." She went downstairs and flicked on the radio to KIIS FM as she finished her paperwork. Even if she had adopted Matthew, she also needed to go to work. Her supervisor had graciously given her a week off to accustom him to school and her home, but one week wasn't forever. Plus, she was taking a paycut since she only worked part time now, when Matt was in school. She was determined that he wouldn't be a full time day care child-why else had she adopted him? She bent her head, scribbling furiously on a WB40 form and half listened to the music. It was about 15 minutes from the time she turned it on when a song got her attention. <You're not alone Now so many miles apart, Stupid, she thought, but her and Mulder all over. She went back to her paperwork.
Dana, and the county social workers, couldn't believe the changes they saw in Matthew. Just five months earlier, he had been lonely, psychologically damaged, and friendless. Now the energetic three-year-old went to a good preschool, had made friends, and seemed happy. The only problem were the nightmares he sometimes suffered, waking up screaming in the middle of the night about," Don't! Don't please! Mommy! M! MMMMMMMMMMMMM!" She always soothed him and stayed with him, singing old songs like, "Joy to the World. "Dana recalled that night she and Mulder had been stuck in a remote Florida forest, surrounded by some strange invisible beings, and she had tried to keep her chin up for him when he was injured. "Poor baby," she crooned," pooooooor baby. "Usually his breathing slowed and he dropped off quickly. One night before bed, he tried out the new diversionary tactic of stalling he had developed. He asked questions that every kid asks, ones that she was prepared for. <Mommy, why is the sky blue? here does the sun set? Why can't I fly? Did dinosaurs really live? > She answered as best as she could, and then said," All right Matthew, one last question, and then it's definetely bedtime." He scrunched up his face in deep thoughtand then said," Mommy, who do you love?" "I love you, Matthew," she said, not understanding the innocent question. "No! Like a big man, one you would marry. My friend Brad said you couldn't find a man to marry cause you were too ugly. I told him that he was a meanie, but Mommy, why aren't you married?" She sucked in air. He hadn't been told about Mulder, but decided he was old enough to know. "Well. . . . . honey. . . . . a long time ago, there was a man named Fox Mulder who I loved very. . . . . . very much." "More than me?" he interrupted. "No, I love you "Where is he, if you love him?" "He was a very good man, and very sweet and kind. I loved him very much, but he died. He was in a car accident. I was very sad and missed him very much, and I never stopped loving him. I still do. Probably if he was still alive he'd be your daddy. I was working in the hospital when I met you, and. . ." She finished telling him the story of how she had adopted him, one he had heard many times and liked. "Now go to sleep, Pookey, okay?" Dana turned on the nightlight and left, but as she walked down the hall she heard him say," G'night M."
Saturday afternoon "Matt! Wait a minute. . . don't yank out that plug! Matthew! Oh my god!" With the vacuum extension cord in his hand and a look of surprise, Matthew turned to look at Dana. "Mommy?" "Oh, Matt, don't ever play with that again! You could have been killed! Sweetie, don't ever touch that, k?" She wiped away the tears coursing down his cheeks and gave him a kiss. "Shh, it's okay now." "I'm sorry, I didn't know, Mommy!" Matt said earnestly. She patted his cheek. Once the commotion was over, she sat with him on the floor and began to play Scrabble. He couldn't really read but she gave him "help" with the words. They were both giggling over his spelling of "Monster" when the phone rang. It was the social worker. The biologicial parent wanted Matthew back. The rain poured down on Scully's umbrella as she nervously adjusted her coat, trying to look professional but loving and able to care for a child. It would be a hopeless situation if she could not convince her social worker to let her keep Matthew, and she didn't relish the thought of having to live in another country to protect her son. She walked inside the agency's cold office where she had been so many times hopeful. She smiled thinly to the receptionist, wondering if her fury was as palpable as it seemed, and said," I'm here to discuss the case of Matthew Scully. Is the biological father here already?" <Don't be afraid, Scully. > Quietly the receptionist pointed to the door of the room. She crisply thanked him, and walked furiously to it. Finally she would meet the bastard face-to-face who tried to take away her precious child. <Walk without fear, Scully. No fear. > When had Mulder began speaking to her inside her head? she wondered. And when had she begun thinking of herself as "Scully" again? She marched into the room with all the confidence she could muster, and right off, said," I don't know who you are, but Matthew is my son, and you will not take him from me." The social worker and the man were in the room, heads together, pointing at a document. Their backs were turned, but when she made the bold statement, they turned at the same time. Dana knew in that instant what heaven would be like. "MULDER!" she screamed. "Oh, Muldermuldermulder, you were alive! I love you! I missed you so much! Where were you? How did you. . . "Happy tears mixed with her incoherent babbling, and she flung herself against him in a huge hug. But the man pushed her away. "Who is Mulder?" he said.
"Mulder! You know me! It's me, Scully!" she exclaimed. Her happiness turned to horror at the look on his face. "I am afraid I don't know you," he stated. "Are you Matthew's foster mother?" "You must know me!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Mulder, don't you remember?" Words came faster and of their own accord. "Remember the field? And Deep Throat? The Lone Gunmen? The X Files?" Tears slipped out of her eyes and she frantically beat at his chest in an effort to make him remember. "The field! And the Arctic expedition! And the dance where the monster met Cher! You can't have forgotten that! We danced together. . . it was so right! And our love. . . !" She trailed off, choking with sobs. He took a step back, a bewildered and helpless expression written painfully across his features. "I really don't know you~I'm sorry!" Scully let out a deep, wracking sob. She clung to the man, shrieking," Remember! Oh, please! What have they done to you? What have they done. . ." The county worker stood with an indignant look on her face. "What's going on?" she demended. Scully couldn't get a hold on herself. She held on to the man she believed was Mulder, shaking him, begging him. He looked frightened. Quickly the woman backed out, calling for security. Scully ignored her and went on pleading. Two burly men grasped her arms. "Nooooooo!" she screamed. "Mulllder!" "This woman is not fit for mothering a child, put that in her file," she heard the worker say to the receptionist, who nodded. As they dragged her away to the waiting police car, Scully tried one last time," Mulder!" He shook his head, tears on his face too, saying," I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. . . " He turned to the rain steaked window. There, pressed against the glass outside, was a woman. . . what looked like a woman. She had the same apperance of the woman who had just confronted him, but different, too. And she was. . . transparent. The rain fell through her. "Oh, God," he muttered. She made no movement, but seared him with her soulful eyes. And then he knew.
Outside, the officers dragging Scully opened the door to push what they thought was a crazy, homicidal maniac into the car. She screamed and struggled, but one small, handcuffed woman could not do much against two huge men who had confiscated her gun. Then the door of the agency opened. The man who a few minutes ago had seemed so confused was sure of himself now. He stood on the step and screamed," Scully!" Time stood still. They looked at each other for a split second. He ran to her and enveloped her in his arms. Their mouths found each other, and she knew that her life would be okay from there on in. She had found Mulder. "See here," said one of the police men," you can't do that. . ." The two ignored him and held each other under the streetlights, under the pouring rain. Scully thought she would suffocate from extreme happiness, or Mulder's embrace. "The accident was planned, so I could be 'picked up' for awhile. They kept me in solitary confinement for seven months. After I was realeased, they told me you were dead. . . I knew you weren't," he said muffledly against her hair. "I looked for you, but you were gone. I searched until I got a note that said to stop looking, or I'd find you, good and dead. "He swallowed a sob. "A few days ago, I think that they found out that we were going to meet, so they injected me with something that made me lose my memory of you. I remember, they were going to use me as a ploy to get Matthew, and then do experiments on him, cloning or something. I remembered just before they took you who you were. I'm so sorry I couldn't find you before this. . . oh, Scully, I didn't want them to get you, but I couldn't protect you if I didn't know where you where. I never stop looking, or forgot our love. . . it just was a little lost for a while." "Don't worry, Mulder. We're together again. The music told me it would happen." He looked at her quizzically, puzzled by her statement. "Never mind," she whispered. Another sweet, gentle kiss followed, wrapped in each other's arms, and they knew that's how they'd stay. Together. . . forever. December 25th, Christmas Matthew had finally been put to bed after coming downstairs fifty times to see if "Santa came yet." The tree sparkled and glistened, the remains of a huge dinner sat on the table. All that was left to do were open the presents left them. "Okay, Scully. You open yours first," said Mulder. She smiled back and shook it. "It better be good," she teased. "Better than a keychain." "And yours better be pretty good, too!" he exclaimed. It is, she thought. It is. Outwardly she just grinned. She pulled back the wrapping to uncover a beautiful hardcover Moby Dick. "Oh, Mulder," she breathed. "You are the sweetest man alive!" He leaned in for a kiss. "And you taste like the sweetest woman alive! You had better watch it or I might feel tempted to make Santa blush!" he smirked. She playfully swatted him, and whispered," You watch out or you'll be minus a moby dick!" "Scully, you wound me!" he laughed. "Now open y. . . "she began, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who could that be at this hour?" she wondered. Mulder got up to open it, but no one was there. Just a big manila envelope. He closed the door before any snow could blow in and read the address," Richmond Gene Testing, Co." "Scully," he whispered. "This is Matthew's maternity test."
Her face grew tight but she said," Open it, Mulder." "No," he said, "not on Christmas Eve." "Dammit Fox! Open it!" she demanded. He paled at her use of his first name. He came around the sofa and held her hands in his. "Scully," he said," I want you to know that whoever Matthew was created by, whatever woman carried him, you and I are his parents. It'll always be that way. And I love you." Her tears glistened. "Mulder, I love you, too. Whatever's in that envelope can't hurt us. Open it." Slowly he peeled back the top. He shook it, but instead of a thick packet, there was a single sheet. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Mulder, Dana Scully is Matthew's mother. We suggest you do not divulge the details of the 'accident' to anyone, lest members of your family should have to be harmed. We are telling you this in the knowledge that you will do the right thing and remain quiet. -A friend.
Mulder gritted his teeth. They were still trying to control him, all these years after the X Files were closed. He closed his eyes and tried to forget. He was finished with the FBI, he was a normal citizen now. He would continue his search for Samantha, but without their aid. A plain, average Joe. He wondered if Cancer Man wrote this note. "So," Scully said, "I am really Matthew's mother." "I. . . " Mulder said. "Listen, Mulder. Right now there are a lot more things I care about than this. Let's just burn the note. Matthew will never know. Okay?" She thought quickly. "Hey, do you know what was my favorite Christmas candy when I was a kid?" she asked. "Scully, don't try to change the subject. Shouldn't we talk more about it?" "Right!" she exclaimed. "Peppermint sticks! And do you know what my favorite thing to do with them was?" Silence. But a half smile, which encouraged her. "Right again! Lick them! But, if they got too sharp, I had to bite them." "Scully, what does this have to do with anyth. . . ohhhhhh. . . ." She grinned and said in a little girly voice," But we don't have any sticks in the house right now. Do you know where I can find one?" "I think I can imagine," Mulder grinned, and they both laughed together. But not for long.
After a completely window-shattering round of lovemaking, Scully lay with her head on Mulder's chest. A little of the earlier gloom had returned to him. "Hey," she said to break the mood," it's Christmas Eve. Let's get under the covers like a pair of naked, hormonal teens, and watch a monster movie," Satan Santa" or something. You make the popcorn, I'll find the movie." As Mulder made the popcorn, Scully sat on the couch. She began to flip through, and her eye was caught by something on MTV. A music video by Savage Garden. I love you more with every breath Beginning I want to stand with you on a mountain Yes, she thought, I do. "What are you smiling at, Cheshire Cat?" commented Mulder as he came into the room and plopped down beside her. "Nothing," she replied, snuggling her head aginst his shoulder. Everything. The End
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