It Looks Like Rain
by Foxsong
(4-2-00)
Vignette, songfic; rated G
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Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the property of Ten Thirteen and Fox, and are regularly tormented by me without official permission. This fic was inspired by the song of the same name by Jann Arden (for info: http://www.jannarden.com) . No copyright infringement is intended on either count.
Summary: Scully, The Morning After.
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It was just before five when she finally gave up.
She had lain awake, staring sightlessly into the darkness of his bedroom, for almost four hours. When he moved in his sleep so that she could look over at the clock, she had watched the endless minutes pass; when his body obscured the red digits, she had watched the reflections and the shadows of the lights from the occasional car on the street below the window.
He had rolled over, at last, and sprawled away from her. She moved cautiously as she slipped away from him and out of the bed. If she woke him, she would have to tell him she was only going to the bathroom, and she would have to come back, but he did not stir. She crept across the room, gathering her clothing. When she went through the bedroom door she realized she had been holding her breath.
She dressed as quickly as she could, skipping the nicety of stockings; she ran hasty fingers through her hair, not wanting to take the time to find the hairbrush in her bag. She padded out the front door barefoot, her shoes in her hand, so that he would not hear her footsteps as she left the apartment. When the elevator door closed behind her and she felt the floor falling away beneath her feet, she let out a long sigh. She leaned against the wall and bent down to push her feet into her shoes.
He had been going to drive her back later this morning to pick up her car. She already had her cell phone in her hand as she got out of the elevator; she called for a cab and told the dispatcher she would meet it at the corner of the next block. She pushed open the front door and stepped out into the sunless grey pre-dawn mist. It looked like rain. She skirted the building, staying on the narrow strip of grass, where he would not see her if he was looking out his window, not caring that her shoes were being soaked by the dew. She turned the corner and walked briskly toward the next street.
A starling winged past, close overhead; she instinctively put up her hand before her face. It called and chattered as it flew away, and she remembered a story she'd been told, years and years ago, about a man whose lover had left him, and how he had changed magically into a bird, and had plucked a single hair from the unfaithful woman's head, and flown away with it, that she might never find another lover. She shook her head and hurried toward the yellow cab that was pulling up at the corner.
She got into the cab and gave the driver the address of the restaurant where she'd met Mulder last night. She sagged against the back seat and closed her eyes as the car pulled away from the curb.
She had thought it would change her. She had thought that when she crossed this threshold she would emerge into another place, that she would finally become someone new. Instead she was strangely numb, and the steel cover of clouds overhead was as featureless as she felt. She stared out the window into the fog and wished the rain would fall.
The restaurant was only a few blocks from the waterfront district, and all at once she was seized by a desire to go down to the park at the end of the street, to look out at the sea. It was foolish. Her car was right here; she could be in it, and gone, in a moment, but suddenly she wasn't even sure she could drive. She leaned forward and asked the driver to go on to the end of the block instead.
At the park she paid the cab driver and stepped out onto the pavement on unsteady legs. She wasn't sure why she'd come here. She wasn't even sure why she'd left, why she'd run away again. What they had finally done last night was something she would never be able to run away from. She walked aimlessly toward the water, looking out at the fading dark in the eastern sky.
She had always told herself that when the time came, she would know it, but now she couldn't say whether she had been right or wrong. She supposed she had been waiting for some kind of sign. She wondered why she only looked for the hand of God in moments of crisis, in acts of intervention; wondered why she couldn't seem to see God in the common miracles of each day. Maybe the signs she wanted surrounded her everywhere she went. Maybe the seven years of quiet devotion that she had tried to steel herself against were the truest sign she would ever be given.
It broke upon her all at once, then. Every breath she'd ever taken, every tear she'd ever wept, every star she'd ever wished upon, seemed nothing until now. Every prayer she'd ever said seemed strangely answered. Maybe she had been wrong to expect to feel transformed in a single night. Maybe last night had been only the final act of the play; maybe had he had spent all these years already changing her. Could it really be that she'd been in love with him all this time?
The weight of it buckled her knees, and she sank slowly, gratefully, to the low stone bench behind her. The cab driver, still watching from some yards away, called, "Lady, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she answered, by habit, and thought that for perhaps the first time it was the truth.
She looked back over her shoulder to see the man leaning against the side of the cab. "Thank you," she said. "It's all right. You can go."
He watched her for another moment. Then he nodded, and took a little flask out of his pocket, and held it up, saying, "Here's to the day." He took a swallow, and opened the door and got back into the cab. She heard him shift the car into reverse as she turned back to gaze out again at the sea.
"It looks like rain," she murmured under her breath. And she took out her cell phone again, and she touched the first speed-dial key, and held the phone to her ear, waiting to hear his voice.
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'It Looks Like Rain' by Jann Arden
I flagged a taxi long before you woke
The sun had not yet risen, morning not yet broke
It looks like rain
It looks like rain
A little starling swept above my sleepy head
He plucked a single hair and took off laughing madly as he fled
The driver drinking brandy said "Here is to the day"
It looks like rain
It looks like rain
And every breath I ever took
Every tear I ever wept
Every star I wished upon
Seemed nothing until now
Every prayer I ever said
Seemed strangely answered now
Could it be I'm in love? Could it be I'm in love?
I made the driver park the car beside the sea
I gazed upon the fading dark and slowly buckled at the knees
The driver drinking gladly said, "Here is to the day"
It looks like rain
It looks like rain
And every breath I ever took
Every tear I ever wept
Every star I wished upon
Seemed nothing until now
Every prayer I ever said
Seemed strangely answered now
Could it be I'm in love? Could it be I'm in love?
From the LP Living Under June. Visit http://www.jannarden.com