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Title:   Rebirth: On a Clear Night
Author:  Meredith

Rating: PG
Classification: V,UST ("Look Ma, no 'A'!")
Spoilers: Yes; this takes place during "Detour."

Summary:  Scully ponders how quickly she's fallen back 
into the same old routine -- and yet realizes things are 
far from what they used to be. 

Disclaimer:  Not mine. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note:   This is the first entry of a proposed series 
of stand-alone vignettes to track Scully's private thoughts 
during season 5. My addiction to spoilers tells me we are in 
for some Serious Scully Stuff this year, and I plan to be around 
to fill in the missing parts. :-) Any reassurance that you can 
give me that I haven't picked up a foolish idea would be 
tremendously appreciated. Please send any feedback or 
conversation to meredith40@juno.com or meredith_elsewhere@yahoo.com.

Thanks to MCA for catching errors and providing one 
certain nugget of inspiration at least 6 months ago. :-)
_______________________________________________________________

Rebirth: On a Clear Night

**********************************
"If thou beest born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee."
          
-- John Donne
***********************************


I can't seem to stop smiling. 

Thank god I'm sitting here in the middle of nowhere with 
no one -- no one conscious, at least -- to see how silly 
I must look. 

But it feels so good that I don't ever want to stop.

The forest really is beautiful. Even now, in the cold and 
the damp, with a kink in my back and my legs asleep, the 
night is quiet and sheltering -- the trees forming a close 
canopy with a peephole opening up to the starry sky. The 
brilliant constellations directly overhead cast a shimmering 
glow on the clearing around us, letting me see that Mulder's 
face is peaceful in my lap and that despite the injury his 
breathing is even and strong. Of course I can feel his deep 
breaths rumbling against my own chest, but I'm enjoying the 
rare opportunity of watching him sleep. It helps keep me 
awake.

I stopped singing nearly half an hour ago. Funny that when it 
comes down to knowing all the words of a song, the chorus 
and at least two verses, there just aren't all that many in 
my repertoire. Not that I keep a store of them handy for 
emergencies or anything. Dr. Scully's First-Aid Song Kit. 
The thought makes me laugh aloud, the sound bubbling out of 
my throat before I realize it. 

I was sure Mulder was fast asleep by the last verse of 
"Joy to the World," yet for some reason I kept on singing. 
A few Beatles tunes. Some Christmas carols. A discordant 
version of Aretha's "Respect." Only when he stirred slightly 
and snuggled impossibly closer did I stop scaring the wildlife, 
whatever might be left around here. I guess that last song 
was a bit raucous.

But half whisper-singing the rebellious words felt so 
wonderful. 

Barely hiding my laughter at Mulder's incessant wisecracks 
in the car felt wonderful. Having him come crashing through 
the trees while I urgently called his name felt wonderful. 
Unexpectedly dropping by his room with wine and cheese felt. . . . 
wonderful. 

Despite my initial shock, I don't blame him for taking off 
after a lead last night -- he didn't know what my intentions 
were, coming to his door bearing undisguised innuendoes and 
a sense of freedom. Perhaps that's the problem -- I didn't 
know what they were either. 

But he promised he'd be back. If the hunter's wife hadn't 
nearly been attacked just before Mulder's visit, I'm sure 
he would have been.

What might have happened, could have happened, if he had 
returned. . . .well, we might have begun again. Started the 
night over, started our partnership over, started our lives 
all over again. 

But it doesn't matter. We never made the conscious decision, 
but we literally started all over again a few weeks ago -- and 
Mulder and I have only just begun to understand the 
implications. Every day is a new beginning, a new chance to 
get things right. If not last night, then tomorrow. Or the 
night after. 


It's unbelievably clear tonight. In the limited slice of sky 
above, I see a few constellations whose names I actually remember 
from Girl Scout camp. Orion. Ursa Major. Cassiopeia.

Cancer.

I'm not sure why I brought up the subject of death tonight, 
a gloomy topic amidst the comfort, the strange, protective 
security of being alone in the woods with Mulder. Perhaps 
because the unspoken word had taken such a powerful significance 
in our lives for the better part of the last year. It was a finite 
end point to our partnership. To *us*. No options. Definite. 
And it was approaching so quickly. Perhaps last night it was 
finally time to speak.

How peculiar, though, now that I think of it. Every day for 
five years I've -- we've -- faced the possibility of the exact 
fate I nearly succumbed to a mere 14 days ago. Death. The only 
difference being that a doctor doesn't greet me every morning 
to prepare me for the day's gruesome possibilities. 

Today, Dana, you will be attacked by a liver-eating mutant. 
This afternoon's plans include a troubled man threatening you 
with a lobotomy, Dr. Scully. Tonight you will be alone and helpless 
in the woods, with an injured partner and an enemy you can't see. 

Today's events include your possible death, Dana.

Why does that make all the difference in the world? The 
difference between joy and sorrow? The difference between 
demanding all life has to offer and hiding from its rare and 
exquisite possibilities?

Even as my life was slowing unwinding before me, I was never 
afraid of death. I was angry, even combative at times. But 
never afraid. I could never, will never, accept its control 
over me. I will always prefer an almost invisible man with 
glowing red eyes to a rotting mass of cells pressing on my 
temporal lobe. Bring it on. Just give me a fighting chance.

I sit now, with the soul bound closest to mine asleep in my 
lap, and am easy prey to the same fate as I was back in the 
hospital bed in Virginia. Today, tonight, tomorrow, I may 
die.

And yet this feels so divine.

Sticks and hard-pack mud under my pained ass and Mulder 
drooling on my thigh, snoring softly. An invisible and 
deadly creature lurking somewhere close by. Death, 
defeated for now. 


Far off in the distance, the sky is lightening to a 
muted pewter. Softly, inevitably, the sky will turn pink,
then orange, alive with the glow of another day. Slowly-breaking 
happiness is spreading like fire. I am beginning to understand 
it -- to feel it. He feels it too, and we are warming gradually, 
basking in the newfound comprehension. Learning what can be. 
Smiles. Looks. Touches. I'm not sure what our future is, or when 
Death will intrude on our privacy again. But I know that we can 
go anywhere, be anywhere, begin again.

On a clear night, you can see forever.

I like what I see.


END

Please tell me what you think, good or bad. 
Grateful won't even describe what I'll be. :-)

**Meredith**