"Resolved" (1/1)
by Karen Rasch
krasch@earthlink.net
http://home.earthlink.net/~krasch
RATING: G
CATEGORY: V
SPOILERS: Everything up to Season Seven, most notably
"Kaddish" and "Millennium"
ARCHIVE: Please do. However, I would appreciate
my name remaining attached to the story.
DISCLAIMER: A lot has changed in the XF universe
over the years, but this has not--these characters are not
mine, nor is any profit being made. I'm just having fun.
No harm. No foul (or Fowley, for that matter).
SUMMARY: This is a "Millennium" post-ep fic. What
do you think I'm writing about? ;-)
***************************************************
By rights, he should have been exhausted.
After all, fending off the living dead took a lot out of
a guy.
Blood, if nothing else.
Yet, Fox Mulder wasn't tired.
Not even the hypnotic scroll of pavement rolling out beneath
their speeding sedan like a town-crier's nightmare could lure
him to the Land of Nod.
He had way too much to think about.
"How's your arm?"
Hearing her gruff query, he turned to regard his partner.
The instant their eyes met, Dana Scully redirected her gaze,
choosing to focus it on the road rather than on him. She had
been doing a lot of that since they had left Burnside Memorial.
Mulder tried yet again not to be hurt by her withdrawal.
"It's all right," he murmured. "Actually it's numb. I can't
feel anything on that side at all."
"You will when the drugs wear off."
"I know. That's what I'm worried about."
"Don't worry. Just remember to take your medication."
she advised, signaling in preparation to pass a drifting
BMW. Traffic overall was light. The wandering luxury
auto was the first vehicle they had encountered since
getting on the highway.
The New Year's revelers must still be reveling, Mulder
mused as Scully skillfully maneuvered their four-door
around its sleeker, more expensive cousin.
Champagne, party hats, noisemakers. All around them,
the world was commemorating the turning of an age.
Hidden away in the houses and hamlets the agents sped
past on their way to D.C., men and women were laughing
and dancing and holding their loved ones close, unaware
the Apocalypse had been only narrowly averted. Once,
Mulder would have envied their innocence, yearned for
the chance to share in such an evening. No zombies, no
ancient prophecies. Just food and drink and good friends.
Only not now. Certainly not after tonight. True, he might
be stuck in a rental car with only a stale Snickers and a can
of Dr. Pepper to usher in the next century. Still, he couldn't
conceive of a better way to celebrate. After all, he had the
good friend thing covered. She was seated right there beside
him.
And there wasn't anyone else in all creation he wanted to
hold more.
"Do you want to see if you can find a radio station or
something?"
Again, he stole a glance in Scully's direction. This time, she
dodged his eyes completely. A casual observer might argue
she was merely concentrating on her driving. Mulder knew
better.
"Nah. I doubt there's anything worth listening to," he said,
proud of the casual, off-handed tone he was somehow
managing to maintain. "Radio on New Year's Eve is virtually
a wasteland, Scully. Nothing but big band music and top forty
countdowns. I don't know about you. But for me, there's only
so much 'La Vida Loca' a guy can stand."
That coaxed the corners of her lips to quirk, though the resulting
smile was more rueful than truly amused. "In more ways than
one."
True enough, he silently admitted, taking a sip of his soda.
Between submerged alien spacecraft, brain-sucking mutants
and milquetoast necromancers, Scully and he had lately endured
more than their share of insanity.
Smiling a trifle ruefully himself, he said, "Bet this wasn't quite
how you envisioned welcoming the year 2000, was it."
"Oh, I don't know about that."
This time when he looked her way, she was looking back.
"You, me, and a trip to the hospital," she murmured, her
tone dry, her eyebrow raised. "The combination is not
unheard of."
"Familiar territory," he agreed, pleased to have at long last
drawn her attention away from the near deserted stretch of
asphalt. "But I wasn't so much thinking about the emergency
room as I was--"
"What got us there in the first place?"
"Bingo."
At that, she frowned and turned away. "I don't know what
to think about that."
Again, Mulder dipped his head in acknowledgment. Poor
Scully. It couldn't have been easy for her to have come face
to face with something that not only contradicted all she knew
of human biology, but also made an absolute mockery of
Judgment Day.
"You know . . . students of the occult believe that all life,
all existence, is a form of energy," he ventured, picking and
choosing his words with care. "And that such energy can
be manipulated by those with the skill to do so."
Seemingly against her own inclination, Scully listened, her
brow wrinkled, her lips pinched.
"It's what Wiccans refer to as Magick ," he continued. "The
harnessing and shaping of energy to achieve an end."
"That's all well and good, Mulder. However, Mr. Johnson is
not a practicing Wiccan. Nor is he a follower of any other
occult religion," she said, speaking with a quick, hard, rat-a-
tat rhythm. "He is a supposedly devout Christian. A man
who believes that what he did was in accordance with God's
will."
"I know, Scully," he mumbled, attempting to soothe her,
though not at all certain he was going about it in the proper
fashion. "But as I mentioned back in Skinner's office, even
Christianity has its mystical--"
"Johnson created monsters, Mulder," she all but growled,
her eyes glistening now in the dashboard lights, her gaze
doggedly focused on the road before her rather than on
the man at her side, "Monsters that were meant to serve
as foot soldiers in a war between good and evil."
Surprised by her vehemence, Mulder sat mute, sensing
Scully hadn't yet finished her tirade.
"Tell me those *things* were on the side of good," she
goaded. "Tell me they were capable of anything other than
cold-blooded murder."
"I can't," he admitted quietly.
She drove for a moment or two in silence before muttering,
"Neither can I."
The pair rode on for a time, neither saying anything. Skeleton
trees with long, gnarled limbs whizzed past on either side,
empty fields barren of their crops separating the wasted woods.
Darkened businesses dotted the landscape as well, shadowed
and vacant as if abandoned. All at once, the universe seemed
strangely desolate on this dawn of a new age, Mulder mused,
the observation accompanied by a frown.
"I realize that what we saw today was . . . shocking," he said
finally, unable to stand the oppressive silence. "But we have
run across something similar in the past."
Scully shot her gaze his way. He caught it and held on tight.
"The Golem," he said shortly.
"That was different," she replied.
"Both were cases of the dead reanimating."
"Yes, but the Golem, if you recall, was created out of love."
Taken aback, Mulder once more studied his partner. Some
of the tension which had earlier drawn her slender body all
but rigid seemed to have dissipated. Her fingers gripped the
steering wheel now with measured strength. Unlike before,
her eyes appeared to have an easier time meeting his. "Out
of love?"
Scully sighed. "I know men died because of what happened.
That Ariel Weiss was to blame for their deaths. But even so,
I can't really blame her. You read her statement. When her
fiance was murdered, she was distraught, grieving. All she'd
wanted was to say goodbye to the man she loved."
Mulder slowly nodded.
"I understand that impulse," she softly confessed. "To want
just an instant, one moment more with someone who was
dear to you."
Lips pressed thin, it was Mulder who had to look away. I'm
certain you know what that feels like, Scully, he thought as
he stared blindly out the passenger side window. God knows
you've lost enough loved ones since partnering with me.
"I suppose this must seem to you like a belated Christmas
gift."
Her wry words startled him out of his reverie. "What?"
"This," Scully repeated with a guarded glance in his
direction. "Our conversation. I mean . . . listen to us.
We're talking about walking corpses, Mulder. About
beings who have been summoned from beyond the grave.
This entire discussion has been like the opening scene of
a late night creature feature, and yet I'm not raising a single
argument to the contrary. That's got to be a first."
"It's been a night for firsts," he said quietly.
She hesitated for a moment before saying in a similarly
hushed voice, "It has."
Sensing an opening, Mulder chanced, "Scully, about
that--"
"Mulder, there's no need to talk about it."
"I think there is," he stubbornly insisted.
"It was a kiss. That's all."
"That's all?" he echoed, his heart sinking.
"Did you intend it to be more?" she queried in return.
Did he? Had he? Good question. And one he hadn't
thought to ask himself before opting to press his lips to
hers.
"I don't know, Scully," he conceded. "I don't know
what my intention was."
Seemingly focused on her driving, she nodded, as if
confirming something she had already suspected.
All at once fascinated by the dashboard display, Mulder
mumbled, "I do know one thing though."
Scully glanced sideways at him, her lashes hiding not only
her eyes but her thoughts. "What?"
"I know that regardless of what you might believe I hope for,
I don't want anything from you that you aren't ready to give."
Their gaze held so long, Mulder feared their car might end up
in a ditch. Finally, Scully whispered, "What do you hope for,
Mulder?"
He let his eyes sweep across her features before murmuring,
"All good things."
Frozen in place, like road kill waiting to happen, Scully
continued staring at him for a second or two more. Then, as
if their conversation had never taken place, she blinked and
returned her attention to the highway.
Sighing with a mixture of apprehension and relief, Mulder
settled back in his seat, a wave of fatigue washing over him
at last. Head lolling against its support, he looked out the
window to his right, a single refrain repeating endlessly
between his ears.
Oh, Scully. What have I done? What have I done to you
and I?
The remainder of the journey was spent in silence, Mulder
feigning sleep, Scully steering them carefully home. When
she pulled up outside his apartment building, he continued
the charade, stretched as if rousing, then loosed his seat belt
buckle from its clasp.
"Do you need help upstairs?" she asked, killing the ignition
and releasing her seat belt as well.
"No," he replied, gaze averted as he awkwardly gathered his
things. "I'm fine. Thanks for the lift."
"Mulder."
Her hand landed atop his, stopping him. He looked at it, slim
and manicured, then raised his head to look at her.
Only she was closer than he had expected her to be.
So near, he needed to close his eyes.
Her lips brushed his, then settled against them more firmly.
Soft and warm, they clung, tasting of lipstick and wintergreen.
Something caught in his throat, welled, then released as a sigh.
After all too short a time, she drew away, but not before pressing
another gentle kiss to his cheek.
"There are things I hope for too, you know," she said quietly.
"Things that not so long ago seemed all but impossible."
"Seems like you and I have come to specialize in the impossible,"
he told her tenderly.
"That's true," she agreed. "We have the field nearly all to
ourselves."
He nodded.
"Which is why we can't quit, Mulder. There's no one else to
take our place."
"I don't want to quit," he said, his forehead knit.
"I know," she assured him. "I don't either. And that's the
problem. Because right now . . . much as I want to, I can't
do both."
"Both?" he queried.
"Work and you, Mulder," she clarified, her fingers
tightening around his wrist. "I can't do both."
Mindful of his earlier promise, Mulder strove hard not to
push. "Why not?"
For a moment, she bowed her head, her hair sliding forward
to curtain her face. Then, taking a deep breath, she spoke.
"Over the past several years, a lot has changed in my life.
Work, my family, my health."
Well aware of the abuse she had suffered, Mulder could
bob his head.
"Lately, however, this trend has escalated. Basic tenets,
beliefs that I have held since birth as gospel have been
revealed to me as nothing more than illusions."
"Scully, we don't know what exactly the writing on that
spaceship represented," he reminded her.
"No, we don't," she agreed, meeting his eyes. "Not yet.
But I need to find those answers, Mulder."
"We will," he replied without hesitation. "We'll find them."
"Yes," she said, just as determined. "I believe we will."
Taking his good hand between both of hers, she cradled it
carefully. "However, if I'm to do that, I can't take on any
more than I already have. I'm sorry, Mulder. I just don't
have it in me. Not now."
He swallowed hard. "You don't have to apologize, Scully."
She smiled, sweet and sad. "I'm afraid I do."
Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Mulder looked away
and considered all she had said. His gaze falling on their
hands, he contemplated the tangled digits, then gently
changed his grip. Taking Scully's right hand in his left,
he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of her
wrist, right about where he imagined her pulse must beat.
When he spoke, his voice came out ragged, yet warm.
"Listen to me, Scully."
Eyes huge in her small face, she did just that.
"I won't pretend I'm not in some ways disappointed by what
you just said, that I don't wish you were coming inside with
me tonight, that I'm not going to wake up beside you tomorrow
morning."
Scully still didn't speak. Instead, she sat behind the wheel,
composed and quiet, her hand yet clasped in his.
"But I'm going to let you in on a little secret--I'm a very
patient man."
Her brow flew towards her hairline.
"I am," he repeated, chuckling at her incredulity. "When
it comes to the things that matter, the =people= that
matter, I'm willing to wait."
She nodded slightly, as if in encouragement. Yet, even
so, Mulder paused a moment before continuing.
"And you matter to me, Scully," he said at last, his voice
turning hoarse and hushed. "There is nothing in this
world that matters to me more."
Her eyes sparkling wetly, she smiled.
Pleased by her reaction, Mulder grinned back at her.
"What I'm trying to say here is . . . if I have to wait
until the next millennium to kiss you again, I won't
be happy about it. But I will wait."
"I don't know, Mulder. That seems a little excessive.
Even for me."
Her lashes sliding shut, Scully inclined her head and
leaned forward, her lips parted in invitation, her fingers
pressed softly to his chest. Mulder met her halfway,
capturing her cheek in his palm and lowering his mouth
to hers.
Together, they explored each other's texture and shape,
slowly and carefully, neither sure when they would
enjoy such largess again.
In the end, it was Scully who pulled away first, her
forehead resting against his. "I need to go."
"I know," Mulder said, his breath bathing her face,
his hand still holding her close. "Just promise me
something first."
"What?"
"Don't go too far."
"I won't."
"Promise me, Scully."
"I promise."
"Good," he said, sitting back heavily in his seat. "Then I
guess I can live with this."
She nodded solemnly.
"For now."
She nodded once more, then spoke, her words again a promise.
"For now."
* * * * * * * *
THE END
(
geocities.com/area51/zone/2095) (
geocities.com/area51/zone) (
geocities.com/area51)