A Familiar Heart
Chapter Twenty/Epilogue
Scully curled around him, the close quarters of
the single bed making a nice, cozy nest. She
felt safe and not at all claustrophobic, even
though she was wedged between him and the wall.
Her hand slowly caressed his damp skin of his
chest and her head nestled in the curve of his
shoulder.
The events of the day, of the past week, flitted
through her mind and she smiled secretly to
herself. From the moment she saw him back in
Utah he stirred something within her, and the
feelings he aroused were a most welcome change.
She'd never be the same from this night on. What
a way to start a new year.
Suddenly, she found herself giggling. Mulder,
half asleep, moved his head on the pillow, his
lips brushing over her hair. "What?"
"Bill," she chuckled. "I don't think he knew
what hit him."
Mulder stretched a bit beneath her, his chest
puffing up. "He's not so bad." She laughed
harder, Mulder's mental strutting typically male.
"He's not," he insisted. "He never said a word
to me, Scully. Not one word."
"He was waiting to get you alone. And when he
does, look out."
"Oh, I'm so scared," Mulder drawled, his own
sleepy fingers drawing circles on her back.
"Scully?"
"Yes?"
"Think I can call you Dana now?"
She pretended to give it thought, watching the
moonlight slash through the blinds to illuminate
the opposite wall. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"I kind of like to be called Scully. Especially
by you."
"Ah, but you won't be a Scully for very much
longer, you know."
"Mulder, from what I saw of Piedmont, there can't
be more than a couple of hundred people living
there. I certainly didn't see a church." She
jerked, remembering her home with a guilty flash
of responsibility. "I have to wire my parents
from Salt Lake City, let them know where I am."
"Nearest church is twenty miles down the road in
Asheville." With his other hand, he grabbed the
one strumming his chest, bringing it to his lips.
"I didn't tell you? Besides being a damned good
mechanic, Jerry operates the Western Union from
his office. *And* he happens to be a Justice of
the Peace."
She lifted her head to meet his confident, happy
gaze. For a moment, she pondered arguing about
churches and parents and obligations. Then she
thought better of it, raising an eyebrow with a
smile. "Works for me. Besides, I have to pay
your bill." Settling back down, she sighed, "Or
maybe not. I didn't exactly bring my purse with
me."
"Scully, you're straight with me. Believe me.
No further payment necessary."
They drifted into silence, each exhausted from
the day and more so, from the night. Scully,
almost asleep, was jolted awake by a clamor from
the club car, one that made her jump. "What's
that?"
Mulder slurred his words, sighing, "My guess...
it's midnight. Happy New Year, Scully."
"Happy New Year, Mulder," she whispered back,
already falling back to sleep. "I'd give you a
kiss, but umm... too tired."
"Then I'll kiss you." Those beautiful lips
wandered down until they touched skin, and he
pressed a kiss to her brow. "Mmm, taste good...
you wanna ride th'pony again, you wake me, 'k?"
"Deal."
She felt his kiss once again, then almost
immediately heard a soft snore above her head.
Happy New Year, indeed. It was guaranteed to be
a good one, if the first minute was any
indication of things to come.
Before losing herself totally to dreams, she
raised her head to look at his profile, seeing
the man who, despite it all, was sent to her by
forces unseen. A weird twist of fate brought
them together, and she wondered if, after all,
there were angels watching over them both. The
odds against the two of them ever reaching this
point were astronomical, and she looked up into
the moonlight, whispering a prayer of thanks
before lying down next to her love for some much
needed sleep.
**********
The two hazy figures stood on the small end of
the caboose, watching the countryside fly by, the
moon casting the hills and valleys in a serene
white blanket of shimmering snow.
"Nice night," Sam murmured, tucking his hands in
the pockets of his coat. He wasn't cold; it was
habit that he shivered, the scenery stirring him
to memories of snowball fights and hot chocolate.
He was form without real substance, but it didn't
prevent him from remembering what it was to be
human. Or to appreciate his expensive suit and
coat; his combat fatigues were permanently
retired, according to the man beside him.
The vaporous man at his side was just as well-
dressed, his black skin almost blending in with
the night, only his pepper-gray beard visible as
he spoke. "It's time to go, Sam."
Sam hung his head, pretending to watch the tracks
beneath him rush by. "I know, sir." He never
called his superior anything but sir. He didn't
even know his name, and doubted he ever would.
It wasn't important. Feelings, emotions, even
the pleasant exchange of earthly information like
names ceased to matter in the world he was still
getting used to.
It wasn't a bad place, but it wasn't home. Sam
felt as though he was caught between two worlds,
and he supposed he was. He hadn't yet attained
the ultimate goal, his superior reminded him time
and again. This place wasn't like home, where
hitting baseballs and playing the hero
automatically lofted you to a position of
adulation and superiority. Happiness and peace
here had to be earned, and the jobs to be done
were a test of courage and love.
He was finished with Dana and Fox, but he didn't
want to leave. His brother was brother to him no
longer, not on a physical plane. But he still
felt close kinship and wanted Fox to be happy.
And Dana... God, he still remembered the ache he
felt the one and only time he'd held her in his
arms, knowing it could never be.
Love had come to him one breath too late.
"She was never for you, Sam," his companion said
softly. "You have to let go."
"I have," he replied, smiling. Suddenly, after
watching over her for months, he finally felt the
truth. Even if he'd had the chance, he knew he
would have lost her to Fox. His brother was the
better man for Dana; the past week had proven
that. "She's where she was meant to be."
"True." The man next to him paused, looking
about. "Won't be long, we'll be coming up on
Kansas City. We'll get off there."
Sam looked at him with surprise. "Kansas City?"
Everything in this new world had a purpose, and
their destination signaled a new direction for
him. "Why Kansas City?"
"You were a good soldier, Sam. But you were an
even better baseball player. You had heart, and
there's someone who needs your courage now. A
baseball player. Good kid."
Despite the fact he was no longer supposed to
feel it, Sam sagged a bit with sadness. Kansas
City was an eternity from New York. "What's he
play? Second base?" Maybe there was hope, after
all. He loved to play second base. He could
still feel the thrill of turning a 4-6-3 double
play. Even if he wasn't supposed to sense
things, the lingering smell of leather and
horsehide tickled his nose.
"Shortstop. Great player, but he needs a bit of
coaxing. He won't find his new home a welcome
place."
"Why not?" Something about the whole business
tweaked his inner alarms. 'Sir' was not telling
him everything.
"He plays - played for the Kansas City Monarchs,
Sam."
Sam's eyes narrowed; now he understood. "The
Negro Leagues?"
His superior faced him with a similar, bristling
look. "I shouldn't have to ask - but do you have
a problem with that?"
"No!" Sam wasn't a racist, had never been. He
disdained the rules that made black men play
baseball in segregated leagues, when he'd seen
many who were equal to, if not better than, any
white player. "Do you mind if I ask why he needs
my help?"
"He just signed a contract with a Major League
team."
Sam snorted, shaking his head. "He's gonna need
more than my help. He'll need body armor."
"Sam..." Sir warned, his voice speaking of
growing impatience.
"I know, I know," Sam replied with a grin. "I go
where the boss sends me." With a jerk of his
chin, he plunged ahead. "So - what's the story
with this guy?"
"He's reporting to their minor league team early
next - *this* year. Happy New Year, by the way."
"Same to you, Sir." Sam gave him a brilliant
smile, pleased this once-stoic man had a warmer
side, even if he rarely showed it.
Sir cleared his throat and continued, "From what
I hear, he won't be there long. Maybe a year,
tops. The Montreal Royals."
"Montreal?" Sam sputtered, feeling as if the rug
had been pulled out from under him. "But - but
that's -"
"Brooklyn's triple A club, yes."
Sam groaned inwardly. The Dodgers. So close,
yet so far away from the Yankees. "No way will
he ever beat out PeeWee Reese," he grumbled
stubbornly, feeling his chance for Yankee
greatness slip from his fingers.
"He'll come in at first base, from what I
understand. In my opinion, he'd make a great
second baseman."
Sam snorted, giving his sometime friend a sly
glance. "You sure know how to get to a guy,
don't you?"
"Cheer up, Sam. With this kid, the Dodgers will
give the Yankees a run for their money. Believe
me."
"That'll be the day," he muttered. Shrugging, he
feigned interest, knowing it was no use arguing.
He was being sent where the boss wanted, and no
amount of resistance on his part would do any
good. "What's his name?"
"Jack Roosevelt Robinson."
"Great." He was leaving one resolved mess to head
straight into another. Except this one promised
to be more trouble than getting two lonely people
together. "The kid better be good."
"He is, Sam. With your heart and protection, he
could be one of the best who ever played." His
friend gave him a nudge. "Dana likes the
Dodgers, Sam. Make her smile."
"Hey, no fair. You used that one last time."
"Last time, I told you Dana needed someone to
love, someone who'd love her back. *You* were the
one who suggested Fox. Good choice, I might
add."
He knew 'Sir' was kissing up to him, but Sam
smiled, anyway.
"Okay. But if this kid turns out to be no good,
don't blame me."
"And if he turns out to be an All-Star?"
"Then you owe me the Yankees next time."
"Deal." Sir held out his hand, and Sam took it.
As they crossed the Mississippi River, the two
faded away, their laughter drifting off like
snowflakes into the night.
The End
Many thanks to Sybil, for beta above and beyond
the call of duty. This business of posting a
chapter a day was more of a strain on her than
me. Also, my thanks to Clarissa, for info on
Annapolis. You rock, girl!
And thanks to the Havenites for daily poking.
Never could have done this without you all!
Hope you enjoyed my guilty pleasure fic. It was
the first and last, I think. But I had so much
fun writing it, so who knows?
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Mishy
:)
(
geocities.com/mish_rose)