Title: Platinum (1/1)

Author: Christina

E-mail: christinalynne1227@yahoo.com

Date: September 24, 2000

Classification: V, A

Keywords: MSR, Scully POV

Rating: G

Spoilers: I assume you've seen everything up through "Requiem."

Distribution: Anywhere, just let me know.

Summary: Mulder is gone. Scully is coping. Then she finds a message on Mulder's answering machine.

Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox. No infringement intended.

Feedback: Comments and critical criticisms welcome at: christinalynne1227@yahoo.com

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A big thank you goes out to all the cool gals at XScenes for awesome beta. You guys rock!

Author's notes at end.



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Platinum

by Christina

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'm on autopilot, weary to the bone. I'm exhausted all the time; I'm looking forward to my second trimester where I'll supposedly gain more energy. But for now, I exit the elevator and trudge toward the apartment at the end of the hallway.

Reaching the door, I find the key on my ring automatically. The key is in the lock and turns in one fluid motion. Entering the already dark apartment, I reach for the light switch on the wall to my right.

My way now illuminated, although I could navigate this apartment even in complete darkness, I head to the desk by the window. I shrug off my coat and toss it on the back of the chair. I unceremoniously plop into it, closing my eyes to rest. This part of my day always takes its toll on me.

This has been my routine since the three weeks that Mulder has been gone. I go to work, avoid everyone except Skinner, try to ignore the stares, the whispers. Afterwards, I come to Mulder's apartment.

Sometimes, like today, I come to just sit. Sit in his apartment and try to hold on to the feeling of him. Sometimes I might boot up his computer and just stare at his screensaver. Alien spacecrafts, round yellow windows illuminated, floating over a green countryside. The motion mesmerizes me, almost lulls me into believing They might be so cute and innocent.

Sometimes, I'll lie in his bed, curled up on my side, hugging his pillow to my body. I imagine I can still smell our scent on his pillow, even though I know it is long gone, having stripped and washed everything on his bed since his disappearance.

But other times, I actually have a purpose. I bring up his mail, throw out the junk, take the bills with me. I feed his fish and dust his shelves.

My first several visits were spent cleaning the apartment from top to bottom. I wasn't so sentimental as to leave it in complete disarray and filth. And I needed something to do, something to keep me busy during those first days.

But now, I am mostly comfortable here. It was disconcerting, at first, to go through Mulder's things. Reading his mail, checking his answering machine, going through his closets, even cleaning out his refrigerator.

Sighing, I open my eyes and survey the desktop. Everything as I had left it yesterday. It looks as though I'll have to dust again soon. It's amazing how quickly dust accumulates

when no one is here to displace it.

Suddenly I notice the red light blinking on his answering machine. Curious, I lean forward and depress the 'play' button. It's been a good week now since anyone has left a message. It's probably a wrong number or a sales pitch.

A polite male voice fills the room.

"Mr. Mulder, this is Gary from Zales. I'm calling to let you know that your order is in. Feel free to come by anytime between 10am and 7pm to pick it up. Let me say it's beautiful, she'll love it. Thank you again for your business."

The polite voice is gone and I sit there, trying to absorb the information. I play the message again. And again.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



An electronic chime announces my hesitant entrance. I pause awkwardly, surveying my surroundings. Mirrors and glass, counters flanking me, their treasures gleaming within. It's an upscale store, and I can imagine Mulder felt much the same way I do now.

A tall, pretty woman in a slimming suit and a practiced smile comes forward to greet me.

"Hello, can I help you?"



Nervously, I say, "Um, I'm here..." faltering, "to pick up some jewelry."

"Oh, great! Can I have your name, please?"

I hesitate again. "Well, actually, it's under the name 'Mulder.' I'm here to pick it up for him."

She frowns momentarily. "I'm sorry, let me get our manager. He'll take care of you." She flashes me another plastic smile.

I sigh and follow her brisk steps to the counter at the back of the store. I admire some of the pieces under the glass while she disappears into a backroom, returning promptly with who I assume is the manager.

A tall, balding man greets me with an outstretched hand. "Hi, I'm Gary, the manager here. What can I do for you?"

I clear my throat and shake his hand firmly. "Hi, Gary." Having expected this, I reach into my coat pocket. "I'm here to pick up an order placed by my partner, Fox Mulder." I pull my badge out from within and place it on the countertop. Gary leans in to inspect it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss...*Agent* Scully. Our policy normally permits only the buyer to pick up the purchase..."

"I understand that may be the case, Gary," I say, politely. "But I can assure you I have Agent Mulder's permission to be here. I cannot go into details, obviously, as to why he is not able to pick up his order. If you can't trust an FBI agent, who *can* you trust?" I add, trying to smile winningly. Isn't this how Mulder would handle this?

Gary smiles back. "Well, since you are government and all..."

I grab my badge and pocket it quickly. "Thank you, Gary. I appreciate it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart pounding erratically in my chest, I close the door to my apartment behind me. I sit down on my couch, putting the small, handled paper bag down on the coffee table before me.

I had taken the small black box from Gary without even looking at it. "I'm sure it's just what he wanted. I'll be sure to let him see it first," my nervousness and agitation apparent. But Gary decided not to call me on it and I left the store relieved.

I now lean forward, elbows on my knees, my nervousness growing. I'm trembling and my stomach is doing flip flops. Can I really do this? Do I want to see what is inside the small jewelry box?

Before I lose my nerve, I grab the end of the bag and dump the little box onto the table carelessly. I pick it up, between my thumb and first two fingers, studying it cautiously, as if a snake might jump out and sink its poison fangs into me.

The box was too small to contain a bracelet or a necklace. That left either earrings or maybe a pin. Or maybe a *ring,* a little voice inside my head whispers. Couldn't it be a ring?

My heart races at the thought and I gulp. I set the box back down on the table and stand up to go to the kitchen. My hand trembles as I pour myself a glass of water. I've got to get a grip on myself.

What is going on here? I ask myself. Why am I so uptight about a little jewelry box? Finishing my water, I set the glass down on the counter and wrap my arms around my waist, hugging myself.

Rocking slightly, I find myself confused by the influx of emotions I'm feeling. So Mulder's probably bought a ring. I think I'm not being too presumptuous when I assume he's intended it for me.

My next thought is that I'm glad Mulder doesn't know I'm pregnant. I don't think I could handle it if that was the only reason for a ring.

But if not because he knew I was pregnant, why else? I can finally admit that I love Mulder. And in my heart of hearts, I know he loves me, too. But we both know we are not the marrying types. Mulder is too involved with his personal crusades--driven, always looking for something to exorcise his inner demons. Me? I've gotten used to my life--I can't imagine anything else. I'm happy with it.

Okay, scratch that. On nights like these, when I'm alone, just me and my thoughts, I think back to what might have been. What it would be like to just *stop.* To be normal.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. This is just too much to try to absorb right now. I make my way back to the living room and sit before the small black box again. Holding my breath, I pick up the container and raise it to eye level. Exhaling slowly, I lift the hinged lid. Unconsciously, I realize I have closed my eyes.

I've wondered how I would handle a situation like this, if ever presented to me. To have a man, before me, presenting a box like this. Would my heart hammer in my chest like it is now? Would I cry like a baby at the sight of what was within? Would I look up at him, love in my eyes, and throw my arms around his neck, crying, "Yes, yes, yes!" into his ear?

Tears are sliding down through my closed eyelids. Anger and sadness are welling up within me, threatening to break free. Why am I to be tortured like this? Why can't Mulder be here, sitting next to me on this couch? I want to see him, the emotion in his eyes, the nervousness in his body. I miss him so much; my body aches and my heart feels like it is breaking.

Unable to stand it a moment longer, I open my eyes and look inside the box.

I'm crying freely now, quiet sobs, large fat drops splashing onto my hands and the box within them.

Inside, nestled in the black velvet, is indeed a ring. An engagement ring.

Shaking like a leaf, my normally dexterous fingers are fumbling as I pluck the ring from its nest. Gently, gingerly, I examine the ring, my chest tight, my heart breaking yet once again.

Mulder, it's Mulder who has always broken my heart.

This time he has done it beautifully.

A slim platinum band, shiny and smooth. A solitary diamond, neither too large or too small. Perfect, catching the light and refracting a spectrum of color, breathtaking.

Looking closer at the ring, I suck in at the sight of an inscription on the inside of the band. Bringing it closer, squinting slightly, I read the words aloud, my voice wavering.

"My touchstone."

<And you are mine.>

Sobbing, loud child-like cries, I slip the ring on. It fits, perfectly. I'm crying so hard now I can hardly see it on my slim finger. Holding it up to the light, it is brilliant. Through all my tears, I am blinded.

I cannot tear my eyes from the ring. I let my right hand trail to my still mostly flat stomach and I stroke it absentmindedly.

I'm going to be a mother *and* a wife.

Tears streaming down my face, I smile.

"Yes, Mulder, I do."



-end-



Author's notes: Okay, I admit it, I've been obsessing and waiting to get *that* ring. I began wondering if Scully dreams about such a ring and how she would react if Mulder 'proposed' while MIA. Thus this little story. Thanks for reading!

Feedback: christinalynne1227@yahoo.com