TITLE: Nothing Important
AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer
EMAIL: sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE: Anywhere okay with these headers attached.
CATEGORY: VA
KEYWORDS: Missing scene
RATING: G
SPOILERS: Nothing Important Happened Today
SUMMARY: Missing scene from "Nothing Important Happened
Today." Mulder and Scully say goodbye.
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to FOX, 1013, CC, etc. No
infringement intended.
**********
Nothing Important
by Susanne Barringer
His hair is still damp when he leaves me. It reminds me of
a long time ago - a rainy night in the woods of Bellefleur,
Oregon.
The suitcases sit, witnesses to this absurd scene. He
doesn't say goodbye. He says, "I'll be seeing you."
William cries in his sleep from the other room, and he
winces. His eyes don't leave mine. They are William's
eyes.
The kitchen faucet drips. Drip drip, pause, drip -
repeated endlessly. He was supposed to fix it for me.
William stops crying, settles back to peaceful sleep,
presumably. He doesn't move. His hair is damp from the
shower, one strand sticking up at the back of the part,
refusing to submit to gravity.
I wonder who will cut his hair for him, as if it matters.
I want to reach out and tame it, tame him. The impossible
dream. That it is impossible is no surprise to me.
His arms reach out, but I do not step into them. This is
hard. Although there is every good reason for him to
leave, at the same time there is none at all.
The suitcases tap their feet impatiently in time with the
ticking of the mantle clock, in time with William's short
breathing that I imagine I can hear through the wall
separating him from us, us from each other.
"Scully." It's all apology and "please understand" and
promises of return, of togetherness, of love. He doesn't
have to say anymore than that one word. I understand. I
will never understand.
The cab honks again, time ticks, suitcases beckon. The
faucet drips. I hear the trunk of a car slam shut.
Another person leaving? Another goodbye? Do they all feel
like this one?
He still won't say goodbye, just steps forward with those
outstretched arms again. This time they make contact,
resting on my waist.
"We're okay?" His voice seems far away already. How can
that be? He has been farther away than this.
I reach up and stroke over his wet hair, pushing the
mutinous strand down into place. His hair is cool between
my fingers just before he steps away into the watery blur
of the room.
"Wait for me." What else would I do?
I think I hear the door shut, but I am too busy
scrutinizing the winding crack in the wall to know for
sure.
When I do turn to look, the suitcases are gone, the door is
closed, the faucet still drips. And I will never feel
whole again.
END
_________
In case you're wondering, I'm not sure I'm back exactly,
but I found this story, almost finished, on a scrap of
paper at the bottom of my old bookbag. Maybe it's a
sign...
Feedback welcome: sbarringer@usa.net
All my (now old) fic can be found at
www.oocities.com/s_barringer
(
geocities.com/area51/dreamworld) (
geocities.com/area51)