TITLE: Chasing Mulder
AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer
FEEDBACK: Please! sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE: Anywhere okay with these headers attached.
SPOILERS: Up to Redux II
RATING: PG for occasional language
CLASSIFICATION: SR
CONTENT WARNING: a bit of MSR
SUMMARY: A couple of nightmares, a lunch, and a ferris wheel.
DISCLAIMERS: These characters belong to Fox, 1013, and Chris Carter.
No infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place sometime after the Reduxes
but before PatientX/R&B. Mulder's still in major doubting mode.
________________________
Chasing Mulder
by Susanne Barringer
Scully's lungs burned as she frantically gulped in air. She was running as
fast as she could, but it wasn't fast enough. She could see Mulder standing
at the end of the tunnel. The light coming from behind him rendered his
body only a shadow, but she would know his form, his stance, anywhere.
She had to reach him, had to get there in time. Her legs stung from
exertion and the pressure in her chest was nearly paralyzing. Her body
couldn't withstand much more. She could feel the panic rise in her throat;
she fought to remain in control. She had to move faster. She had to get
there, get to Mulder. It seemed like she had been running forever, but he
was still so far away. She had to get to him in time.
"MULLLL-DERRRR!" The sound of her scream sliced the silence as she
sat straight up in bed. Her heart was pounding and her breaths couldn't
come fast enough. Her body shook with panic and terror as she squinted
her eyes to look for Mulder in the darkness. As she gathered her wits and
realized she was in her bedroom, she slowed her breathing and willed
herself to calm down. It was that dream again.
Scully reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. She grabbed the book off
the nightstand and pulled open the drawer to look for a pen. She waited
for her heart rate to slow even more, then opened the book to where the
green ribbon marked her place. She recorded the date and time, and made
a notation. "Chasing Mulder through the tunnel again. Same images, same
feelings. He's just a shadow. I can't get to him. He's waiting for me. I feel
like I have to help him in some way, but I can't run fast enough. There's
something telling me I'm running out of time." Scully stopped writing and
breathed a heavy sigh, finally feeling almost calm again. Keeping a dream
journal had turned out to be a restorative experience for her. Not
surprisingly, it had been Mulder's idea.
Just after her remission, she had suffered from horrible nightmares about
her cancer. In a fit of frustration and sheer exhaustion, she had confided in
Mulder about them one afternoon at work. She knew he battled with his
own nightmares often, so she had told him a little about the cancer dreams
that seemed to continually haunt her and kept her from getting a good
night's sleep.
Two mornings later, she came into work bleary-eyed as usual. Sitting on
her desk was a beautiful leather-bound book with her initials engraved in
gold on the front cover. She opened the book to find blank pages, trimmed
in a similar gold. She wondered what the book was for until the pages fell
open to the front cover. There, in his distinctive scrawl, was an inscription
from Mulder:
For Scully,
A dream is an answer to a question we haven't yet figured out how to ask.
Always, Mulder
The gift had touched her because it was so appropriate and thoughtful,
something she never would have bought for herself. Much of the time
Mulder could be so damn insensitive, so unaware of what she needed--or
didn't need. But every now and then he would show such awareness of
her, such caring, that those moments made up for everything else. Almost.
She smiled as she thought about how surprised Mulder would be to know
that she was indeed using the book as a dream journal. He probably
figured she would never be interested in such a thing, but she had been
faithfully recording her dreams in the two months since he'd given her the
book.
Scully was wide awake now, so there was little point in trying to get back
to sleep immediately. She flipped through the previous entries in her
journal. The dream about chasing Mulder was coming more often, almost
every other night now instead of once or twice a week as before. As
terrifying as the dream was when she was experiencing it, in many ways it
was a relief because it had gradually replaced her cancer dreams until she
hadn't had one of those in almost three weeks. At least the tunnel dream
was the same every time. She knew what would happen, and she knew
how it ended. The cancer dreams had been terrifying because they were
always different. She never knew what to expect. Sometimes she saw her
body being devoured by insects or by a creature she was unable to see.
Sometimes she watched her body disintegrate slowly, unable to move or
call out. The worst dreams were those where she was buried alive, trapped
under the earth before her time.
Scully turned back to her newest journal entry. She knew she ought to
record her impressions. What did this recurring dream of Mulder mean?
She was running toward Mulder, unable to reach him. Mulder was slipping
away from her. She knew that's what these dreams were about, but she
had been unwilling to face that thought head-on. He was slipping away
from her, and from the X-Files. The discovery that Mulder might have
been tricked into believing for all those years had affected him intensely.
The doubt, and later the absolute certainty, that it was all a lie had
transformed him. He had distanced himself from her in many subtle ways.
His beliefs still didn't fall in line with hers, but he seemed unable to find any
commonality between them. Before, they had had their conflicting beliefs
to challenge each other, but also to give them a kind of common ground
with which to begin their investigations. They had always known where
they stood with each other, their differences serving as refreshing
knowledge of what would never change between them. Now things *had*
changed. He *was* slipping away from her, and she had no idea how to
bring him back.
Scully realized she was frantically writing down all that was running
through her head. It was the first time she had allowed herself to actually
admit that Mulder's changes were driving them apart. She finished her
thoughts, then closed the book, slowly running her hands over the soft
leather cover. She traced her index finger around the gold engraving.
D.K.S. It was a beautiful book, not the kind of blank book one could find
in a book store, but the kind found only in specialty shops. The leather was
smooth and soft, and smelled as only good leather can.
Mulder.
He had bought her this book because she needed it. Now he needed
something, something to bring him back. She had no idea what she could
do or what she could say to help him see that even if his quest had
changed, there could and would still be a quest. The truth was still out
there, even if it wasn't the truth he had originally sought. Without a quest,
Scully knew Mulder would be lost. He *was* lost. She had to do
something to help him. She was sure that was what her dream was telling
her. It was up to her to help him. If there was anything she knew with
certainty, it was that Mulder needed her, now more than ever.
**********
Even before Scully opened the door to their office, she knew Mulder
would be there. Lately, he had always been in earlier than her. That alone
should have signaled her that something was different, that something was
wrong. She opened the door and, sure enough, there sat Mulder, files piled
up around him.
He glanced up upon hearing her enter. "Mornin' Scully. Sleep well?"
Scully simply grimaced in reply.
"Are you still having those nightmares? Still the same ones?" Scully could
see the concern etched on Mulder's face even though he had asked the
question with a light tone of voice.
She debated whether or not she should tell him about her newest dream. It
might worry him even more. Then again, he, like her, might be relieved
that the horrible cancer dreams had disappeared--for the time being at least.
In the end, she decided she had better be open with him. Being honest
about her personal life was an ongoing struggle for Scully, but since she
had been given a second (or was it a third?) chance at life, she had been
trying her best not to disappoint Mulder that way anymore.
"No. Actually, Mulder, the cancer dreams have stopped. They've been
replaced by another one. A recurring dream. It's not as bad as the others,
but it still upsets me because I'm not sure exactly what it means."
Mulder put down the file which he had been reading in order to give Scully
his full attention. He could be a great listener when it came to her spilling
about her personal life. Of course, she did it so rarely that he probably
thought of it as a special treat.
"Yeah? Do you want to tell me about it?" Mulder had the concerned look
on his face again. She appreciated him asking that way instead of grilling
her about it. He had become better about that recently, which had helped
her talk to him more about what was bothering her and about her illness,
her fears, everything that the recent past had created in her. It was actually
Mulder these days who was shutting *her* out.
She wanted to tell Mulder about the dream. It seemed like it was
important for him to know what she felt was happening between them, but
it suddenly seemed awkward to her to be quite so open with him. Scully
had a sudden flash of an idea. She reached into her portfolio bag and
grabbed the dream journal. On a sudden whim that morning she had
thrown it into her bag, not sure why really, but feeling the urge to do it.
Now it had become clear why.
Scully pulled out the book and ran her hand across the cover for a moment,
out of habit. She looked up to find a surprised look on Mulder's face. Yes,
he really hadn't expected her to use it.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Mulder, but I'm not sure I can talk about it
with you. It's very personal, in a way, about us. About you."
Mulder managed a weak smile at her, but the concern lingered about his
eyes.
"I'd like for you to read this, though. It tells all about my dreams and what
I think about them." She held out the journal to Mulder.
"Scully, I . . . " Mulder didn't reach for the book but instead stood up and
stepped toward her. "Are you sure? I mean, that's really personal. It's
probably something you shouldn't share."
Scully couldn't help but laugh. "Mulder, come on. You're always pissed at
me when I tell you I'm fine and just walk off. I'm not fine right now, and
I'm trying to tell you that."
Mulder laughed too. "I know, Scully, but this . . . this is really above and
beyond the call of personal sharing. Know what I mean?"
"Just take it Mulder. I *want* you to read it. It's important to me. Don't
worry, there aren't any erotic dreams in there or anything." She flashed a
leer at Mulder which she knew would disarm him--she didn't do it very
often.
"Yeah, okay Scully." He looked flustered. It was charming. "Even if it
did have all your sex dreams in it, I guess I would just have to deal with it,
huh?" Okay, now he was back to Mulder again--the concerned look had
waned.
"Yeah, in *your* dreams." This felt good. This felt normal. This was
what had been missing between them recently.
Mulder slipped back into seriousness. "Scully, I'm surprised you'd really
pay much attention to your dreams. I mean, you usually don't go for that
kind of stuff." Mulder moved back to his desk and gently placed her
journal in a space he cleared away for it.
"Mulder, just because I don't believe in aliens and vampires doesn't mean I
don't see the value of studying the unconscious mind. Even a scientist can
see the intrinsic value of unconscious thoughts and desires played out in
dreams. There's nothing 'extreme' about that!"
Mulder didn't answer but simply sat down at his desk, his hand hovering
over the journal. He seemed to be waiting for her to leave, like he didn't
want to read it in front of her. Conveniently, Scully had had the same
thought and was planning a graceful exit any minute. As much as it had
seemed right at the moment she had given Mulder the journal, she was
having second thoughts. Maybe this was too much. Maybe she shouldn't
let him know that she dreamed about losing him. Maybe he would take it
the wrong way.
No, this was Mulder. He was concerned for her. He was interested. She
had to trust that this would work out.
"I think I'll just take a trip upstairs and see how that lab work is coming on
the McAllister case." Scully suddenly felt awkward. She headed for the
door. As she turned to shut it behind her, she saw Mulder reaching for the
journal.
**********
By the time Scully had climbed the three flights of stairs to the laboratory,
the second thoughts had become third and fourth thoughts. She was on the
verge of running back downstairs and snatching the journal out of Mulder's
hands. Why was this so hard for her? It was just a dream. A dream about
Mulder. She had had lots of dreams about Mulder. Some made her wake
happy and serene; some simply drove her insane with the desire she
couldn't tell him about. But this dream was an important one, one she
knew she had to tell him about. Knowing that didn't make it any easier
though. It went against every grain in Scully's being to be so open with
someone, even Mulder. Especially Mulder. She was used to keeping it all
in, to dealing with things on her own. It was easier that way. But this
wasn't her own problem; it also involved Mulder, and he had a right to
know. She just hoped that he would see it for what it was--her fear that he
was losing his drive, his passion, his work, his life.
After killing what she thought was an appropriate amount of time, she
made her way back down to the office. She opened the door slowly and
quietly to peek in and see if Mulder was still reading. To her surprise, the
office was empty. Confused, Scully entered and shut the door behind her.
She saw that Mulder had placed the journal back on her desk; there was a
note beside it. Scully picked up the paper and read:
Scully,
Something came up. Had to go. We'll talk later.
M.
Scully crumpled up the note and tossed it toward the trash. She knew
quite well that nothing had come up. Mulder had left because he didn't
want to face her. It was plain and simple. As angry as she was, it was
disgust that flowed through her body--disgust at herself, at Mulder. She
felt like she had opened a can of worms, and there was no way to close it
again. Scully plopped down in her chair, tossed the cursed journal aside,
and tried to concentrate on the files piled high in the "to be reviewed" stack
on her desk. Damn Mulder and his obsessions!
**********
By lunch time, Scully had made hardly a dent in the pile of work awaiting
her. She didn't feel like she should be distracted, but questions about
Mulder kept popping up. Where the hell was he? He'd been gone for
hours, and that was starting to worry her. Was he that afraid of facing her?
Her condemnation of Mulder was interrupted by the ringing of her phone.
She shook off the dread surrounding her and answered by the third ring.
"Scully."
She was met with Mulder's signature pause. Then, "Scully, it's me."
Scully was surprised at the intensity of the relief she felt upon hearing his
voice. "Where are you Mulder?"
"Didn't you get my note?" The question sounded genuine, though Scully
felt a smile brimming at the idea that Mulder was so clueless.
"Yes, Mulder, but it still doesn't tell me where you are." She tried not to
sound too frustrated.
"Oh, right. Well, something came up. You know. I just had to take care
of something." He sounded so unsure of himself, so questioning.
"Anyway, wanna meet me for lunch? Larry's Deli? My treat?"
Okay, so Mulder was trying to make up for his fleeing the room. The only
time he ever offered to treat was when he was apologizing for something.
"I guess. In twenty minutes?"
"Sounds good. See you then." Mulder hung up before Scully could get
another word in. She suspected Mulder was trying to get them to neutral
ground, somewhere where they could talk outside of the office. That
might be a good idea, in fact.
Scully grabbed her coat and headed out the door.
**********
Mulder was already at the deli when she arrived and had taken the liberty
of ordering her a diet soda. Even though she hated to be so predictable, in
a way it pleased her that Mulder knew her so well--and that he actually
paid attention.
She quickly slid into the booth across from Mulder. He smiled at her,
sincerely. It didn't take long for him to cut to the chase.
"Hey, Scully. I'm sorry I ran off on you like that. I just needed some time
to think. Reading about your dreams, well, it really got to me. I mean, I
had no idea your cancer dreams were that bad. They sounded truly
horrifying."
Leave it to Mulder to start with the issue that was not the real issue.
"That's not what I gave you the journal for, Mulder. It's about that other
dream. The one . . ."
"I know, Scully. That's what I want to talk to you about. It reminds me of
a dream I have. Well, they're not alike exactly, but sort of similar in a way.
I've been having it almost every night for the last month or so."
Mulder's confession was cut off by the waiter coming to take their orders.
Scully picked something healthy and Mulder ordered his usual "Dagwood
Special." After the waiter left, the silence enveloped them. It looked like
Mulder was going to need some prompting.
"Go on Mulder. Tell me about your dream."
Mulder's eyes fell to the table and seemed to study his hands clasped in
front of him. He didn't look at Scully as he began his story.
"I'm in a dark place and I feel helpless, like someone I care about is in
danger. I'm not sure what exactly is going on, but I'm standing in front of
someone, or sometimes a group of people. Someone is making me choose-
-between you and Samantha. And I stand there, and I don't know what to
do. I can't decide. They tell me if I don't pick, they'll kill both of you. I
want to say you, but every time I say 'Samantha.' Every time I pick her."
Mulder finally looked up at her, his eyes sad and glistening with unfallen
tears that caught Scully by surprise.
"Of course you do, Mulder. She's your sister, your flesh and blood," she
reassured him.
"No, Scully!" Mulder's voice raised a notch. He paused to collect himself.
"You don't understand. I *want* to pick you. I want to say, 'I pick
Scully.' That's what's in my head and that's what I mean to say. It feels like
the right choice; in fact, I know it's the right choice. Somehow, I know
with certainty that picking you is the only way I can save *both* of you.
But then I say Samantha's name. I hear that name, and I can't believe I said
it, and I know that means they'll kill you. And I hurt. Every part of me just
aches with pain. Then I wake up." His eyes were still shiny with emotion;
it broke Scully's heart to see him so torn up about a dream.
"Why does it bother you so much?"
"Scully, don't you see? I betray you. Every single time!"
"For god's sake, Mulder, you can't feel guilty about a dream." Only Mulder
could suffer such severe guilt from something over which he had no
control. "It's just a dream. You've never betrayed me. It's not like that
will ever happen. You'll never have to make that kind of choice."
"I already had to make it once!"
Scully shivered with the sudden memory Mulder's words created--that
night on the bridge when the man who shifted into a Mulder look-alike had
kidnapped her. The fear and uncertainty she felt that night as Mulder made
the trade still haunted her. As tense and terrifying as the episode had been,
though, what had turned her blood to ice was when the man and the
woman fell over the bridge and Mulder had called out "Samantha." In a
sickening moment of understanding, Scully realized he had traded his sister
for her, and it was all she could do to stop the bile rising in her throat.
That moment had played itself over and over in her nightmares for months
afterwards. Even though Samantha had turned out not to be Samantha,
that didn't prevent the nauseous feeling Scully got whenever she thought
about it.
Scully shook off her memory of that nightmare. "It's not likely anything
like that will happen again, Mulder," she tried to reassure him, but Mulder
still looked miserable. "Okay, so tell me what you think this dream means."
Mulder paused a long time, finally looking back down at his hands before
speaking. "Scully, we're dysfunctional."
The words and Mulder's dead seriousness made Scully laugh. "Mulder, we
chase genetic mutants and aliens as a career. We're way past
dysfunctional."
Mulder looked frustrated with her attempt at humor. He was all
earnestness. "You know what I mean, Scully. You and I--we have a
dysfunctional relationship. You have nightmares about not getting to me in
time to save me from myself. I'm haunted by the thought I might sacrifice
you in order to find the 'truth.'" At that word, Mulder's mouth turned
down into a grimace of pain. "These are not healthy things for partners,
and definitely not for friends."
Scully sighed. Mulder was so serious about this. He had a point, but it
was something that was so ingrained in their relationship that she had never
given it much thought before.
"You're just realizing this now, Mulder? Where have you been for the last
five years?" For some reason, Scully felt the overpowering urge to try to
keep the conversation light. She wasn't sure she liked where it was
heading.
"I know, Scully. It's not news to me. It just seems a lot more important
now." Mulder looked up at her again, his face tortured with whatever
unacknowledged pain this discussion was creating for him. "I've lost
everything else in my life now. Everything. I don't want to add you to that
list." He reached across the table and touched her hand which was resting
next to her soda. Then he retreated again.
Scully felt a mixture of frustration, pain, and love swell inside her at
Mulder's vulnerability. "You're not going to lose me Mulder." She spoke
softly in order to help him see that she was now serious. "That's why I
wanted to talk about this, to talk about what's happening between us, how
things have changed."
"No, Scully. What you wrote in your journal, about feeling like you're
losing me? It's true. We're losing each other. We let these fears and
obsessions get in the way of us, of our relationship. I know you're afraid
I'm going to go crazy if I don't have my quest. I promise you, I won't. I'm
fine." Mulder's face revealed a slight smile as he said those infamous
words. "I'm sorry I've been shutting you out. What you wrote did show
me what I've been doing to you. And what you do to me."
Scully wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she didn't like the sound of it.
"Just what exactly do I *do* to you?" she challenged, quirking up an
eyebrow. Under any other circumstances, Mulder would have jumped on
the chance to make some kind of innuendo. Not today. Today he was all
seriousness, and that was beginning to concern Scully.
"It's not what you *do* exactly. It's that having you as a partner, as a
friend, my caring about you, makes me doubt myself. I'm always
questioning myself, why I'm worthy of you and your trust and your
friendship. That's why I dream what I do. I'm afraid I'll let you down. I'm
afraid I'll unintentionally betray you. Or maybe even intentionally."
Somehow this was getting to be too much about Mulder's unassailable
guilt. "Mulder, that's what my dream is about too. I dream I'm chasing
you but I can't get there. Don't you think that's the same thing? I'm
running but it's too late. I can't get there in time. I let you down. I'm not
there when you need me. Don't think this is all about *your* neuroses!"
The tone of her own voice surprised Scully--all the latent anger and
frustration.
Mulder smiled a small, tight smile at her outburst and her defensiveness of
her own obsessions. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally,
Scully reached out and took Mulder's hand and squeezed it. She held on.
"You're right, Mulder. We *are* dysfunctional. What are we going to do
about it?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
PART 2
When Scully had asked Mulder what they were going to do about their
dysfunctional relationship, this was not what she had in mind. They had
made no decisions at lunch that day, but on Friday night, Mulder called and
told her to be ready on Saturday at 6:00 wearing comfortable clothes. It
wasn't until they were in the car that he revealed that he had bought tickets
to the state fair. Scully was not amused.
"When was the last time you were at the fair, Scully?" Mulder's enthusiasm
was bordering on annoying.
"Not since I was about twelve, probably."
"Exactly. You've been deprived for far too long."
Scully avoided the inclination to demand that Mulder take her home
immediately. Going to the fair just wasn't high on her list of things she
could be accomplishing on one of the rare weekends when they had no
active cases open. "And this is going to help our relationship how
exactly?" Scully wasn't sure she saw the logic of this.
"That's not what it's about, Scully. We just need to get out and have some
fun for a change, doing something besides working."
"Oh, and that's your *professional* opinion, Mr. Oxford Psychologist?"
"Yes, actually it is. When was the last time you and I did something strictly
for fun and for the sheer pleasure of each other's company?"
Scully thought about it for a while. A long while. She couldn't remember
them ever doing that. Was that possible? Sure, she and Mulder had dined
together often, hung out at each other's apartments occasionally (very
occasionally, now that she thought about it), but those things were usually
because they had a case to discuss or some paperwork to do. Okay, so
there may have been a dinner or two that wasn't work related, but that's
always what they ended up talking about. In fact, Scully realized that they
had never even gone to a movie together, or to any kind of concert, or
anything. They were supposed to go to a football game once, a couple of
years ago, but Donnie Pfaster had interfered with those plans. Of course, a
football game wasn't exactly Scully's idea of a fun time. Neither was the
fair, for that matter.
"Never," she finally answered, her voice not betraying her awareness of
how truly strange that was. Mulder turned to look at her. A thoughtful
look passed over his face.
"God, that's weird, Scully. We're friends, aren't we? How come we never
do anything as friends?"
"I guess because we spend so much time together working, any more time
together seems sort of like overkill." She said it with a light tone, even
though she felt like they had stumbled onto something serious here.
"Maybe that's the problem, then," commented Mulder, this time keeping his
attention on the road. "Maybe we get so obsessed with each other and the
danger and betrayal and fear because we never experience each other
outside of that environment." He paused for a few beats. "We need to
have some fun," he announced authoritatively.
Scully stayed silent for awhile, thinking about what Mulder had said. As
much as they said they were best friends, as much as they were even closer
than friends in terms of trust and knowing each other and communicating,
they didn't really *live* like friends. On weekends when they weren't
working a case, they usually talked on the phone, but they hardly ever saw
each other socially during those times off. Of course, given the long hours
they worked on out-of-town cases, it made perfect sense they'd want some
time apart. On the other hand, it made no sense at all. She was most
comfortable and contented when she was with Mulder, and she was
confident it worked both ways. Maybe her fears of losing Mulder in that
tunnel dream were due to the fact that they had only the X-Files. If Mulder
lost interest, as he seemed to be doing recently, and left the X-Files, they'd
have nothing.
Mulder looked equally pensive. This was not a good way to start the
evening. Scully decided to change the subject. "When was the last time
you were at the fair, Mulder?"
Mulder smiled, seeming relieved to have something less intense to discuss.
"Hell, I used to come all the time when I was younger. It was my favorite
place to take a date."
"Ahhh. That explains why you never have any dates!"
Mulder spat out a laugh. "Low blow, Scully." Scully, for some reason,
giggled.
"So, is this a date, then?" she teased.
Mulder looked at her suddenly, then grinned. "No, of course not." He
looked back at the road, then added, "I mean, not necessarily."
Okay, that was interesting. Scully decided to continue the joke. "That's
good, Mulder, because if any man took me to the *fair* as a first date, he
wouldn't be having a second one."
Mulder looked at her once again, surprise lighting up his features. "What,
are you kidding? The fair is the perfect place for a first date. What do you
want--dinner and flowers? Jeez. When you go to dinner, everyone puts on
their best face and you have all that meaningless getting-to-know-you
conversation, and half of it is an act, and you try to be yourself but you
have to be impressive. It's far too stressful."
"And the fair is better because . . .?"
"Because, at the fair, you get to relax, be a kid, scream at the top of your
lungs, eat junk food, and just hang out. There aren't any awkward silences
because you can just be walking or standing in line and silence is okay.
You don't have to talk constantly at the fair." He added, "And, a pretty
sure way of getting a good-night kiss is to win the girl a stuffed animal at a
game booth."
"Uh huh. I see." Scully guessed that made some sense in some sort of
warped Mulder way. "You know, Mulder, those games are rigged. It
doesn't make the odds of getting that kiss all that great."
"Scully, you're too cynical. For tonight, shut down that scientific mind of
yours and just have fun. It's a rule of the fair that you have to act and think
like a kid. You can't be over-analytical."
"A rule of the fair?" Scully raised an eyebrow at him. "And you have this
rule book?"
Mulder just smiled at her. "I know you'll enjoy it. The fair is the perfect
place to bring a woman like you."
"A woman like me?"
"Well, uh." Mulder looked suddenly uncomfortable. Scully was glad she
pressed it. Mulder found his bearings and continued, "Someone
professional, serious, in a good way of course. This way you get to see
what she's like when she lets loose."
"Mulder, if you think I'm going to let loose at a fair of all places, you're
seriously delusional."
Just as she spoke, Mulder pulled off the road into a dirt parking lot, then
quickly pulled the car into an empty spot at the far end of the makeshift
aisle. "Well, in any case, we're here. Try to control your boundless
enthusiasm."
**********
It truly had been a long time since Scully had been to a fair. She had
forgotten how overwhelming the atmosphere could be--the constant
movement of lights, the smell of food drenched in oil and fat, the sound of
music, laughter, voices. The fair was crowded, which only added to its
feel, and Scully smiled to herself as they walked down the midway. She
liked this, though she wasn't close to admitting it to Mulder yet. Let him
work for a while.
Mulder, meanwhile, quickly got sidetracked by the exhibit of the headless
woman. Scully could see that being at the fair with Mulder was going to
be a lot like being with a 10 year old.
"Come on, Scully. Let's go in. I want to see the headless woman." God,
he even sounded like a 10 year old. This was likely to be exasperating.
Mulder paid the man and escorted Scully into the trailer. There sat, not
surprisingly, a headless woman.
"Isn't that cool, Scully? Wow! Imagine going through life without a
head."
Scully rolled her eyes. "Really, Mulder, you know that's done with mirrors
and a dummy. You can't possibly believe it's real."
"Cynicism, Scully. Put it aside. Pretend you're a kid again. Remember
how fascinating this stuff was back then. Of course, knowing you, you
probably always knew it was a fake, even when you were six!" He flashed
a 10-year-old grin at her.
In the back of her mind, Scully knew her party-pooping was only going to
make Mulder more obnoxious. She might as well play along.
"Okay. No more cynicism." Mulder smiled like a child given his greatest
wish. "Yeah, it must be hard to go through life like that. I wonder how she
eats," Scully pronounced with the sarcasm dripping off every word.
Mulder laughed loudly and escorted her out of the trailer. "Much better."
They walked further on down the midway, observing the rides and the food
trailers. Every few seconds, Mulder got distracted by something and
changed their direction. Finally, he stopped walking, nearly right in the
middle of the midway. "So, Scully, I've got a ton of ride tickets. What do
you want to ride first?"
Scully turned in a full circle, scrutinizing the rides and the crowds.
"That!" she pronounced loudly, pointing a finger at a torture trap that
turned occupants every which way including upside down and left them
there, hovering with their heads facing toward the earth.
Scully smiled to see that Mulder looked visibly disturbed. "Um, Scully,
don't you want to start with something a little bit more . . . mellow? Work
up to this?"
"Come on, Mulder, I know the rules of the fair as well as you do. You
save the mellow rides for after you eat. What are you, a wimp?" she
challenged. Mulder looked at her pathetically. "I'm sure you've done your
share of seducing all those dates onto these rides to show off your
manliness and bravery."
He looked like he wasn't going to budge. "That was a long time ago. I
was a lot younger then," Mulder whined, nervously eyeing the ride and all
its loops and turns.
"Come on, you stud. You wanted to have fun. This looks fun." Scully
grabbed Mulder's arm and physically dragged him toward the long line of
people waiting.
**********
After the ride, Mulder looked a bit green around the gills. Out of spite,
Scully made Mulder ride it again, then proceeded to drag him onto every
one of the most terrifying, violent, nausea-inducing attractions, one after
the other. Mulder screamed like a girl on every of them, and Scully was
highly amused.
After about an hour of being spun and twisted until their brains rattled in
their heads, Mulder called it quits. Well, not exactly. He tried to do it with
chivalry.
"Hey Scully, you must be famished. We should eat."
Scully stifled a smile and agreed. It had taken longer than she thought to
break him. She was impressed with how long he had gone along with her,
despite the fact that he obviously hated every minute of it.
They snacked on chili dogs and corn fritters. As much as Scully usually
avoided such food, it was hard to resist in this environment. One night of
artery-clogging food wouldn't kill her anyway. And she felt weird this
evening, not quite herself. Something about the fair was making her feel
young again. Irrepressible.
After dinner, Scully wanted cotton candy. Mulder quickly ran off to do her
bidding and returned with two cones, one pink and one purple. Scully
chose the pink and they sat down on an empty bench in the food area
where they could watch the people go by. Scully carefully pulled off small
pieces of cotton with her fingers and placed them in her mouth. Mulder,
on the other hand, sank his face into the fluff and ate right off the stick.
When he finished he wiped his mouth with a handful of napkins he had
grabbed. There was still a sticky spot on his cheek where a small tuft of
moist purple cotton stuck. On an impulse that came from somewhere deep
inside her but of which she was barely aware, Scully leaned forward and
gently kissed the sticky part of Mulder's cheek, quickly licking off the
offending spot.
Mulder's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Scully!" he murmured in a tone of
voice usually reserved for when he was impressed at one of her deductive
conclusions. Scully just shrugged and wondered to herself what in god's
name had made her do that. It was totally unlike her, totally spontaneous.
Whatever it was must have been contagious because Mulder caught it, and
he suddenly leaned forward to kiss her. On the lips. He lingered for only a
second, then pulled back. His lips tasted like cotton candy, like Mulder,
like the evening. "Thanks," he said. Scully wasn't sure if he meant thanks
for removing the candy or thanks for the kiss. She smiled shyly as she felt
the blush creep up her neck.
What the hell was going on? She felt giddy, like she was drugged. She felt
outside herself, like tonight she could do anything, take any dare, ride any
ride. Yeah, it must have been those rides--her brain had slammed up
against her skull a few too many times and had somehow caused some kind
of personality change. That had to be it. It couldn't be Mulder. Could it?
Why had she kissed him like that? It wasn't like she hadn't done it before.
They kissed often, on the cheek--for greeting, support, comfort, whatever.
But this time she had done it for no good reason, and then he had . . .
Something was weird.
Mulder had stood during her reverie and was holding out his hand to help
her up from the bench. "Are you ready to ride the ferris wheel now,
Scully? Or is that too tame for you, you wild woman!"
"That sounds perfect. I'm really stuffed from that wonderful dinner."
Mulder glanced at her expecting to see her sarcastic look. It wasn't there.
Mulder steered them toward the giant ferris wheel instead of the smaller
one. The line was long, but they decided to wait anyway.
"Remember, Scully, if we get stopped at the very top we have to kiss for
good luck."
Scully tried not to look surprised. "We have to what?"
"Kiss. For good luck. That's a rule. Like mistletoe."
"I've never heard that rule, Mulder. I think you're making it up. Whose
rule is it?"
"People's."
"People's?"
"Yeah. I can't believe you've never heard that rule. I guess you never went
to the fair with a boy, did you?"
"I wasn't like you, Mulder. I didn't use the fair as a seduction ground."
Mulder gave her his best "I'm so offended" expression. "Ha Ha. Seriously,
though, if you don't believe me, we'll ask the ferris wheel guy."
They had moved forward enough in the line that they would be on the next
batch of riders. Mulder maneuvered Scully closer to the ride attendant.
"Hey, isn't it good luck to get stopped at the top?" he asked the man.
Scully snorted with laughter at Mulder making such a fool of himself.
The man glanced briefly at the couple. "Only if you kiss," he said and
winked at Scully. "Otherwise, it's bad luck." Scully's eyes widened. This
was a conspiracy if she'd ever seen one.
"See," said Mulder waving a hand in the direction of the man. "It's a rule
of the fair."
As they passed through the gate to enter into their car, the attendant
grinned at Mulder, and Scully knew for certain that the ride was going to
stop with them at the top, thanks to the burly, tattooed ferris wheel man
who certainly didn't *look* like a romantic kind of guy.
As it turned out, Mulder and Scully were one of the last couples to be
loaded in the ferris wheel, so it made only one stop before the ride got
going, and it wasn't at the top. Scully found herself first relieved, then
disappointed, then anxious. Was the ferris wheel man going to come
through for them? She stopped that line of thought as quickly as it had
come to her. Having to kiss Mulder and *hoping* to kiss Mulder were
two very different things and the latter was not good. Not good at all.
The ferris wheel spun around for what seemed like an hour. Scully just
wanted to get off the damn thing. Now. She didn't like this teasing. It
was creating evil thoughts inside her head. Thoughts she should not be
having about Mulder. Thoughts that would not, in any way, shape, or
form, help their relationship.
The ferris wheel slowed as the ride ended, and Scully felt Mulder tense
beside her. They were going to end up at the top. She just knew it. And
she didn't want it anymore. Better to run than face whatever was going on
between them. Running was safer.
Sure enough, they'd hardly made two decelerating revolutions when the
ride halted, and she and Mulder were perched atop the giant ferris wheel
with a view to end all views.
Nothing happened. They both looked straight out at the lights and the
general excitement and commotion. Scully decided that since they were
here and it was unlikely Mulder wouldn't collect, it would be better to get it
over with than have to deal any longer with the tension that was so thick
that she could actually feel Mulder's hands clenching and unclenching on
the safety bar. She took a deep breath.
"Well, Mulder, he's not going to leave us up here all night. What are you
waiting for?" She turned toward him with a challenge in her eyes. "We
wouldn't want to thwart luck. We need all we can get!" God, did she have
to be so obnoxious about it? Maybe Mulder had just been teasing her.
Maybe he really didn't want to do this.
Mulder looked at her and laughed, but his eyes were serious. Scully knew
at that moment that this was not going to be a simple kiss. Of course, she
was the one who had started it all with that cotton candy thing, so she had
no one else to blame. Not even the ferris wheel guy.
Mulder slid closer to her and Scully thought that she would die with
anticipation. She was certain the ferris wheel man had run the ride longer
than usual just to drive her into this frenzy. She could taste the
anticipation, smell it, feel it. Mulder looked at her so tenderly, and what
she saw in his eyes ran through her--burning hot, yet reassuring. She had
seen that look before on occasion--when Mulder had given her his gun
before he went to face down Robert Patrick Modell, after he had rescued
her from the cannibals in Chaco, in the hospital in Allentown after Penny's
death--but this time there was something different about it, something new,
something that lit up the night brighter than all the carnival lights. Mulder
reached up and gently placed his fingers under her chin to raise her face to
his. No, this was definitely not going to be a friendly kiss. She could see it
in his eyes. That was Scully's last thought before Mulder's lips finally
touched hers after five long years that had seemed an eternity.
It was beautiful. So sweet. Gentle, exciting, everything imaginable. She
could still taste the sugary sweetness of his earlier kiss, but now it was
mixed with something else--longing, desire, passion. His lips gently probed
and parted hers, but stopped there, letting their lips hover over each
other's, experimenting, but not pushing.
The ferris wheel started up again slowly, and their kiss finished with the
motion of falling down the back side of the ferris wheel and then rising
back up again. Scully felt dizzy but wasn't sure if it was the kiss or the
motion of the ride. She preferred to think it was the ride, but the pounding
in her veins and fluttering in her stomach told her that it was Mulder that
made her dizzy, not some stupid ferris wheel.
Their car was close to the last one to be emptied, allowing the moment
afterwards to linger. Neither of them spoke after the kiss, but Mulder kept
his eyes trained on Scully, seemingly not wanting to let go of their
connection. Scully willed her body to stop shaking. She was trembling
violently. She had never had that kind of physical reaction to just a kiss
before. Actually, she'd never had that kind of extreme reaction to
*anything* a man had ever done to her before. That was bad news.
"Are you cold, Scully?" Mulder queried, using the question as an excuse to
drape his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. Scully smiled to
herself at this glimpse of teenaged Mulder using all his slick moves on the
girls he brought to the fair. She hesitated answering his question. If she
said no, he'd know the truth--that he had done that to her--so she lied and
said yes. Mulder tightened his arms around her and Scully sank into them
as if they were her entire existence.
Finally the ferris wheel spun them to the bottom, and the attendant lifted
the safety bar. As they stepped out, he flashed Mulder a grin. Scully
pretended not to notice that Mulder slipped the ferris wheel man what
looked like a ten dollar bill as they stepped off the platform.
They walked the midway in silence, but Mulder had been right earlier about
silence at a fair, it wasn't uncomfortable. Scully's mind was racing in every
direction. They had gotten themselves into some kind of mess, and she
wasn't sure how they were going to get out of it. The fair had cast some
kind of spell over them, she was sure of it. It was the headiness of the
rides, the lights and sounds, the sugar rush of the cotton candy. Anything,
any excuse would do. This couldn't happen to them. It couldn't happen
again. She wouldn't be able to handle it. It resembled too closely
everything she could possibly want in the world.
Without a word on either of their parts, they headed toward the parking
lot. Somehow, they both knew that the evening was over. There was
nowhere else to go but home.
**********
Mulder pulled the car in front of Scully's building, then cut the engine. He
turned toward her, probably worried about the long silence they'd had on
the ride back. Hardly a word had passed between them.
"Are we okay, Scully?"
Scully thought about it. It was a serious question and deserved an honest
answer. She knew the question was not about them in general, but rather
about what had happened that night. Either way, her answer was the same.
"I'm okay, Mulder. You?"
He didn't answer but instead reached out and stroked her cheek gently. In
a weird way, this evening had been exactly what they needed. How Mulder
had known that, she wasn't sure, but it had done something to them, fixed
what was broken. Somehow, Mulder had managed to reassure her that no
matter what happened with the X-Files and his quest, he would always be
there, always be a part of her life. She didn't need to fear losing him just
because a bunch of liars and manipulators had taken away his dreams.
Likewise, she suspected that her behavior that evening had reminded
Mulder how totally she trusted him, how much confidence in him she had,
so he didn't need to obsess about betraying her or not being deserving of
her.
"So, the fair is your idea of counseling, Mulder?" she questioned. He had
told her that the evening was just about having fun, but she knew that he
had hoped it would help ease some of the tension that had been building
between them recently.
"Well, yes. You won't have that nightmare again. I guarantee you." He
flashed her a beautiful, comforting smile.
"Or my money back?"
"Or we'll just have to go out and have mindless fun again."
"Threat or promise?" she teased.
Mulder threw back his head and laughed loudly. His happiness brought a
smile to Scully's face. "Oh, that's a promise, Agent Scully." He smiled and
grasped her hand in his. "A promise." Scully squeezed back.
"And what about your nightmare, Mulder? Do you think we've cured that
problem?" She laced her fingers through his and flashed him a sincere
smile.
Mulder hesitated, then looked at her seriously. "I pick you, Scully. I pick
you." Scully felt the wind rush out of her with the power of Mulder's
words--so simple, yet full of so much that had gone unspoken between
them for so long. She looked at him for an endless moment, knowing that
her eyes would tell him what she wasn't able to say.
"I did have fun tonight, Mulder. Really."
"I knew you would," he said seriously, then his face brightened with
humor. "At least one of us enjoyed those deathtraps!" Scully smiled at
him and could feel tears welling up in her eyes for some reason she couldn't
yet comprehend. Mulder raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of
it. Again, so gently, so tenderly. It took her breath away and she could
feel that uncontrollable trembling return.
She left the car. She was tempted to ask him up, to continue the evening,
but it felt like they had had enough for now. For tonight.
**********
Scully climbed into bed after grabbing her dream journal off the nightstand.
She hunted through the nightstand drawer for the thick black magic marker
she knew was there.
Scully opened the journal to where her spot was marked. She popped
open the marker top and drew a thick black line below the last entry, the
last nightmare she'd had of chasing Mulder through the tunnel. Then, she
drew another thick line below the first. She would not have that dream
again.
THE END
___________
All my fanfic is available at my webpage:
http://www.oocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/2442
sbarringer@usa.net
(
geocities.com/area51/dreamworld) (
geocities.com/area51)