By Susan Esty (AKA Windsinger)
Windsinger@aol.com

5/8/97 (The day AFTER....)

Synopsis: Two fingers of scotch on a rainy night... Mulder and
Scully muse, not entirely happily, over the marriage of a
'friend'.

Rating: Safe for anyone. A few very mild fourth season
references. This takes place 4 days before the U.S. airing of
Demons and well, if you're a DD fan you know what happened on
May 7.

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are two of the dearest
people in the world and deserve better than what Chris Carter
does to them, still, they belong to him... at least when they
don't belong to US!!!! And as for David Dearest and Tea, best of
luck in your long distance marriage.
 

HE DID WHAT?????? (1/1)

A rainy night in the Greater Washington Metropolitan Area.
May 7, 1997
10 pm.

     Dana had waited long enough. They had both been so dead on
their feet that the partners mutually decided in the early
afternoon to take a break, go home, get some Z's and meet back
at work for a night session. There was tons of paperwork to
finish up after the series of deaths involving that poor, sad
man who worked at the bowling alley. Mulder, however, had called
in sick in the late afternoon. At least he had said he was sick,
but Dana knew the tone of his voice too well. He was down.
Pretty far down.

     Unable to sleep, Dana had gone to the grocery to restock
her larder. After putting away the orange juice and frozen
vegetables she called Mulder's apartment. Busy signal. Restless,
she dusted, ran the vacuum then called again. Still busy. Her
gun probably needed cleaning but not tonight, she wasn't in the
mood.

     After three more or less successful attempts to write
thank-you notes she owed from last Christmas and still a busy
signal. Unable to take any more, Dana grabbed her wallet and
keys and headed for her car.

     What she was in the mood for was finding out what was up
with Mulder.

     At his apartment he didn't answer her knock. After three
tries Dana used her key. The room was mostly dark except for the
electric glow of the TV tuned to a non-working channel. It took
a moment for Dana to make him out on the couch because he sat so
still. Boxers and a v-neck tee shirt. Lots of arm and leg
showing. The furrow on his brow was deep enough to cast a
shadow.

     "You all right, Mulder?" she asked, coming to stand beside
him.

     "He got married."

     Dana blinked. "He what?"

     "He... got... married," Mulder repeated distinctly. His
eyes turned to her. They were weary, blood shot. Someone hadn't
slept.

     After another long pause for it all to sink in, Dana headed
for the tiny kitchen, searched under the kitchen sink, pulled a
half full bottle of good scotch and poured each of them two
fingers. She chipped some ice out of the freezer and handed it
to her partner.

     By tossing it back, Mulder downed three quarters of the
liquid contents of the glass in one swallow.  He gasped and
tears came to his eyes but he managed. He had been pale. In the
gloom, Dana sensed rather than saw the flush rise into his face.

     Dana sat down close beside him on the couch - since he was
sitting in the middle she didn't have much choice - and took an
unScully-like swallow of her own.

     "She's a bad influence on you," Mulder remarked. If she
could have seen his face at that moment he would have had that
one eye brow raised. Dana took another sip.

     "Medicinal purposes."

     "Yeah, sure. Just don't let you-know-who catch you with
that.  Bad for your image."

     In answer Dana raised the glass again. "We've sold our
souls for five years, not for the rest of our lives. Sometimes
I wonder why."

     "For the publicity. Cigarette Slime doesn't dare have us
killed. We're too visible now."

     "Well, he's doing an awfully good job of ALMOST having us
killed." Most silence. Not bad silence. Dana settled back. The
creak of the leather was familiar. So was the smell of Mulder.
Part of her life. "So who did he marry?" she asked, keeping her
tone neutral.

     Dana saw his lips pout a little. "Some woman named Tea."

     "Tea? What kind of name is 'Tea'?"

     "What kind of name is Gillian?"

     Dana bared her teeth a little. "Don't start, Mulder..." The
went back to sipping their drinks and feeling the warmth radiate
off each other's bodies and listening to the pipes in Mulder's
apartment rattle.

     "Are you angry? Doesn't he deserve a wife and children.
He's been saying as much for months."

     "Can you honestly imagine HIM as a father? Vegetarian,
meditation, acupuncture... and people say I'm spooky."

     Dana almost smiled but knew Mulder wouldn't appreciate it.

     "He has your sense of humor."

     Loosening up, Mulder did manage a smile. "And my nose and
hair..."

     And your eyes and your body, Dana thought but kept that
remark to herself.

     "... He also has women, all he wants, while I've been
nearly celibate for four years!" Mulder was suddenly on his feet
pacing with irritation. "Same crummy apartment, same weirdo
friends." He looked apologetically in her direction. "Present
company excepted."

     Dana nodded over her glass. Her eyes eagerly taking in the
always exciting view of Mulder's nearly nude body. This time,
however, the show made her sad. "Has my life been any better? In
case you haven't noticed, I'm dying, Mulder."

     "How can you be sure? It could all be rigged to scare us."

     "Mulder, have you ever noticed that people you are
acquainted with have a fairly high mortality and morbidity
rate."

     He was silent long enough for Dana to finish her drink.
When he spoke it was as if she were hearing an oracle. "I'm
going to have one hell of a headache. I'm going to wish I were
dead. I'm going to try to kill you again."

     Dana scuttled into the corner of the couch. "You peeked!"

     "I needed some good news, all right?" he grumbled, "but
this is the worst, the worst since you told me you had cancer.
Before that, the worst since the dug Paterson up from my past."

     "Worse than the black leaches?"

     "You just had to bring those up... I'd forgotten them."

     "So have the writers."

     "Don't be so sure," he threw over his shoulder as he paced.

     Dana settled down. "You never answered me. Are you angry
with him for getting married?"

     A shrug. An elegant gesture with those barely clad
shoulders. "Not really. I guess just envious. I want someone to
curl up with at night, too. This is one scary life."

     "He works in Vancouver. She works in New York. Not much of
an opportunity for night time smooching."

     "So he can call her at two a.m. and she won't mind."

     "You call me. I don't mind." Mulder seemed not to have
heard just as Dana suspected.

     He dropped back down on the couch, arms crossed as if he
were cold. "He can tell her everything. They can plan a future
together."

     "You tell me everything. We can plan a future together. We
may not have a future but we can plan one."

     That seemed to reach something inside the tired, lean
body. Mulder gave her a extended, sidelong glance. "When?" he asked
almost daring.

     "How about starting now," she whispered.

     His mouth suddenly felt dry and it wasn't from the scotch.
"Will you stay with me tonight? Just hold me."

     "Only if you'll hold me."

     Tentatively, they found each other. It wasn't as if they
had never touched but they had always been too afraid that
they'd be seen, a provision strictly limited in their contracts.
Such contact also threatened to become a habit, and one which
would be tough to break. The TV went off. Time passed and
the feel of their warm bodies wrapped about each other on the
narrow couch was very, very good.

     In the near darkness there was drowsiness but no sleeping.
"The next ten days are going to be hell," he murmured.

     Dana sighed against his chest. "And the year to follow is
going to be nothing to look forward to either."

The End