The Hearthfire

By Helen Wills
Helen.Wills@torbay.gov.uk


Date: Wed, 3 Sep 1997
DISTRIBUTION: Please forward/archive/whatever.
SPOILERS: The Field Where I Died
CONTENT: Mulder/Scully romance.  
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR
SUMMARY: A conversation in the night, following a certain
traumatic case ....

DISCLAIMER: "The X Files" and all the characters etc.
associated with it are the property of 20th Century Fox and
1013 Productions.  In other words, they don't belong to me.  
Mr. Carter, I apologise for any liberties taken with Mulder and
Scully, but I have this over-active imagination which won't
give me any peace.  I'm not making any money out of this, so
please don't sue me - if you did, all you'd get would be a
rather battered TV and word-processor.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: All you other fanfic writers.  I haven't had
a dull moment since I jumped on the Internet, thanks to you
all!  (I'd name names, but the story would never get written.)

NOTES: A friend of mine recently complained that I write too
much conversation into my stories.  Well I'm sorry, Joanne, but
I happen to enjoy writing conversation!  I *like* getting
inside the characters' heads.  So you definitely won't like
this one.  (She also complained that she didn't like MSR, but
that's fast becoming a lost cause too.)  

Just for the record, this is *nothing* to do with "The Wolf
Never Sleeps" - that one occurs pre-Season 3.  I haven't
abandoned the "Wolf" timestream, but I'm taking a break from it
for a while - after all, I spent a year on the original "Wolf"
story!  This story is just a little something which occurred to
me when I should have been doing something else.

Feedback is, as always, very much appreciated and all will
be answered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
THE HEARTHFIRE
By Helen Wills
Helen.Wills@torbay.gov.uk
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Part 1/1


      "The great love is gone.  There are still little loves -  
friend to friend, brother to sister, student to teacher.  Will
you deny yourself comfort at the hearthfire of a cottage
because you may no longer sit by the fireplace of a palace?
Will you deny yourself to those who reach out to *you* in
hopes of warming themselves at your hearthfire?  That is cruel - "
                        from "Magic's Price" by Mercedes Lackey
 

  It was raining.

  Scully couldn't sleep, and lay in bed listening to the
pattering of the drops against the windowpane.  She wished her
brain would switch off, but that was a lost cause, so she tried
to lose herself in the noises the rain made in the quiet of
early hours.

  He'd asked her if she had any regrets.  She'd said none -
except the flukeman.

  Was it a lie?  She didn't think so.  She didn't have any
regrets, at least none the way she thought he meant it.  Of
course she regretted her abduction and her sister's untimely
death, but she'd never blamed him for it either.  She didn't
regret her association with him; far from it.  What she *did*
regret was being unable to do more for Mulder and the personal
demons that drove him.  The Ephesian case had been a graphic
demonstration of how helpless she was to protect him from
himself.

  Scully turned restlessly in the lumpy motel bed, and briefly
wished they'd been able to return to DC immediately.  She
really didn't want to stay in Apison an hour longer than she
had to, and these uncomfortable surroundings were adding insult
to injury, but thanks to endless paperwork and debriefings,
they'd missed the last flight out and had to wait for the
morning.

  Finally she cursed the mattress and pillow under her breath,
and got up, dragging the top blanket with her.  Wrapping it
around her, she went to sit in the window, pulling back the
drapes and staring out into the bleak night.

  Good.  It suited how she felt.

  She'd been his Sergeant, or so he'd said.  Scully had been
raised to believe in one mortal life and a well-structured
afterlife; she didn't believe in reincarnation or rebirth or
whatever people called it.  But just for a moment, she allowed
herself to fantasize.

  What had she been like?  Young, old, plain, good-looking,
maybe even - and the thought made her smile faintly - something
of a rake, a woman-chaser?  It was entirely possible that the
unnamed Sergeant had been very young indeed, no older than some
of the boy-soldiers under his command.

  Had she and Mulder been friends then too?  That was a curious
question.  Were the previous "Mulders" at all like the one she
knew, or were they radically different?  Did personal
characteristics carry over from one life to another, did they
remain constant?  The Mulder she knew claimed to have few
friends - he didn't trust enough to form deep relationships
with anyone.  If Sullivan Biddle had been the same, would he
have been capable of friendship, especially with his Sergeant?  
He'd spoken of souls coming back together, but he'd included
Cancerman in that statement, so friendship wasn't a given.

  Scully sighed faintly and pulled the blanket a little tighter
about herself.  She'd forborne mentioning it at the time, but
that of course was the one big flaw in Mulder's entire story.  
Cancerman was too old to have been a member of the SS; he must
have been born either before or during the War years, and even
Mulder would have to admit that a soul couldn't be in two
bodies at once.

  But then, she felt reasonably confident that when he actually
gave the matter some rational thought - and he would,
eventually, although it might take a while - he'd work that one
out for himself.  There had been no point in antagonising him
further at the time.

  Where did Melissa Ephesian fit into all this, though?  
Despite appearances, Scully hadn't disliked the woman -
although she felt that even if she *had*, it wouldn't have been
unjustified.  But the truth was that she hadn't felt much of
anything for her at all, except perhaps a shred of pity.  It
might have been different if she'd been anything like rational
... or if she'd tried to take advantage of Mulder's
gullibility.  To do Melissa justice, she'd been almost as
disbelieving as Scully - when she'd *been* Melissa and not
someone else.

  But Scully had to force herself to be honest on one point.  
She *hadn't* liked the "soul-mate" story at all - in fact, it
had provoked an unexpectedly violent response in her, and not
just because of the way it was messing with Mulder's head.

  It hadn't been exactly jealousy - but it had been something
perilously close to it.  

  She hadn't expected Mulder to react the way he had.  He was
so much the single, self-contained unit so much of the time,
that she'd been utterly shocked at how easily he'd swallowed
the idea that Melissa Ephesian was his soul-mate.  He *wanted*
that relationship.  He *wanted* to know that there was someone
out there specifically destined for him.

  Good Lord, the man was human after all.

  It was just the moment and way he'd chosen to show it that
made his long-suffering partner want to scream.

  Scully was brought up short in her thoughts by the sudden and
unexpected sound of the connecting door between their rooms
quietly opening.  She looked round sharply, and saw Mulder
peering cautiously into her room.

  "Scully?" he called softly.

  "Over here," she replied.  

  He blinked at her, and took a couple of steps inside the
room, still hanging onto the doorhandle uncertainly.  "Couldn't
you sleep either?"

  She shook her head.  "The bed feels like a left-over device
from the Inquisition.  You?"

  "Hnh.  My brain won't switch off."

  "Grab a blanket and join me, if you like."  She started to
unfold her feet from under her, and caught his uncertain
expression.  "I'm decent under here," she added with a little
smile.

  He chuckled softly, and went to sit in the opposite corner of
the window, facing her.  He was wearing a rather ragged pair of
cut-off jeans and tattered Knicks tee-shirt, which made Scully
smile inwardly - in her prim silk pyjamas and blanket, she
almost felt over-dressed.  An absurd thought, which could only
occur to her in the middle of the night.

  "So what was your brain working on?" she asked lightly.

  The faint smile on his lips disappeared.  "Today."

  "Oh."

  There was a long silence, which Mulder finally broke.  
"Scully ...."

  "Hmm?"

  "Do you think I'm crazy?"

  At any other time, this would have been a prime opportunity
for some good-natured jokes, but right now Scully didn't feel
like laughing.  His tone was too serious.  "In what way,
Mulder?"

  "For believing that stuff."

  "The past-life regression stuff, or the soul-mate stuff?"

  "Both."

  She leaned her head back against the window frame and sought
to find the right words.  "I don't think you're crazy, Mulder,"
she said finally.  "I think you're very driven, and I think you
have an intense need to believe in these things because your
belief in conventional things - conventional religions - has
been destroyed.  There's nothing crazy about that.  As for
believing in soul-mates ...."  She smiled a little sadly.  
"Well, you're alone so much, and I don't suppose that's
particularly from choice.  So no, I don't believe you're crazy
for wanting to know there's someone out there for you."

  "But you don't believe Melissa Ephesian was my soul-mate," he
stated quietly.

  "That's not for me to say, is it?" she replied.

  His eyes searched her face for a moment, considering.  
"Actually, I'd like to hear your opinion."

  "Mulder - "

  "No, really," he insisted.  "Scully, you're my best friend,
my only friend.  I *need* to hear what you think."

  "You didn't want to hear it earlier," she retorted sharply,
before she could stop herself.

  Mulder flinched.  "I know.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said
that.  Honestly, Scully, I may not *want* to hear what you're
saying, but I do *need* to hear it."

  "Okay," she sighed, too tired to fight him.  "The honest
truth is no - I don't think she was your soul-mate.  But that's
mostly because I don't believe such things exist."

  His brows drew together in confusion.  "So what are you
saying?"

  *What *am* I saying?* Scully wondered for a moment.  "I'm
saying that, based solely on what I know to be scientifically
true, I don't believe she was your soul-mate, Mulder.  That
doesn't explain the names of the people you both remembered,
the details you knew of the bunkers, and the fact that I could
find historical evidence to prove Sullivan Biddle and Sarah
Kavanaugh really existed.  But you asked me for an opinion, and
I've given you one.  She wasn't your soul-mate."

  He tilted his head to one side, considering her face
thoughtfully.  "But is that a scientific opinion or a personal
opinion?"

  "Both," Scully said honestly.  "Science finds no evidence of
the 'soul', Mulder - "

  "Despite which, there isn't a culture in the world that
doesn't believe in it - which includes your own Catholicism,
Scully."

  " - So evidence for souls 'mating' is equally open to
question - "

  "While if we're to accept that the soul is the essence of the
person, rather than the body, then it follows that the most
profound attachments a person makes during their lifetime are
more a matter of the soul too.  So why shouldn't souls 'mate'
and stay together?"

  " - Which leaves the personal viewpoint," Scully continued
doggedly ... and stopped.

  "Go on," Mulder said quietly.  "What are your personal
reasons, Scully?"

  She looked down at her hands.  "Melissa Ephesian is dead,
Mulder."  

  Silence.  She couldn't look up, but she had to continue.

  "If she was your soul-mate, the person you were destined to
be with, then why did you know each other a bare twenty-four
hours?  What happens to the rest of your life, Mulder?  Do you
have to wait another, say, twenty years for her to be reborn
and grow up again, so you can be together?  Or are you supposed
to be alone in this lifetime?"

  "Maybe."  His voice was very quiet indeed this time, and
there was a strange, rather desolate note in it which Scully
didn't like.  When she looked up at him, he was staring out of
the window blindly, his face wooden.

  "If that's the case, Mulder, it's not very fair."

  That brought a bitter smile to his lips, and he turned to
look at her, resting his head on the cold glass pane.  "Life
isn't fair, Scully, you know that."

  "It's not logical, either," she added.

  "Life?  Tell me about it."

  "No, I mean - losing your chance this lifetime.  If that's
true, Mulder, how do you explain all the people who are widowed
and marry again quite happily?  My grandmother was married
three times."

  That brought a genuine smile to his face.  "But the Scully
family doesn't have the Mulder luck," he pointed out teasingly.

  "Actually, her maiden name was O'Donnell," Scully replied,
straight-faced, and he laughed softly.

  "Must've been the luck of the Irish then."

  "Seriously, Mulder," she continued gently, "how *do* you
explain that?  And there's something else."

  She paused, and he nodded encouragingly.  "Go on."

  "Okay.  You said that souls come back together - different,
but always together.  I came back as your Sergeant and then
your father, for example.  But you also said that souls mate
eternal.  Why would it be possible for some souls to shift
between relationships but not others?"

  Suddenly his whole attention was on her, his eyes fixed
curiously on her face.  "Meaning?"

  Scully sat back, suddenly aware that she had been leaning
forward into him.  "You know what I mean.  Why would it be
possible for Samantha to be your sister in this life and your
son in another, but for Melissa to always be your so-called
soul-mate?  Why shouldn't *that* relationship shift too?"

  An odd little smile crossed his lips.  "I don't know.  I'm
not an expert in reincarnation.  But do you know what I was
thinking just before I came in here?"

  She cocked her head on one side questioningly.  "What?"

  "I was thinking that I didn't even know her, Scully.  I knew
things *about* her, but even that wasn't much.  I was trying to
convince that woman we were soul-mates, yet I didn't know a
damn thing about her."

  In the brief silence that followed this confession, all
Scully could think of was how relieved she was.  He'd worked it
out for himself.

  "Mulder," she put in after a while, "would you say that
you're a lonely person?"

  He smiled faintly.  "I try not to give myself time to think
much about it, Scully, so I couldn't say."

  "Well, I'd say you're a lonely person," she told him bluntly.
 "And given that, I don't think it's unreasonable that you
should jump at the chance of something that seems stable and
tailor-made for you, at least initially.  I don't think a
relationship based on something as flimsy as the possibility of
a spiritual connection would be healthy, but I understand the
impulse."

  "Do you, Scully?"

  She hesitated, wondering what it was she could hear in his
voice all of a sudden.

  Mulder's eyes were fixed on her face intently, that odd
little smile playing on his lips.  "Are *you* a lonely person?"
he asked her after a moment.

  "Mulder, you don't give me any *time* to consider whether I'm
lonely or not," she retorted, striving for lightness in her
tone.

  "Yeah, we're pretty good company for each other, aren't we?"

  Scully wasn't sure what to say to that.  "Yes, I suppose we
are."

  There was another long pause, this time slightly tense - at
least on Scully's part.  Mulder had turned to look out of the
window again at the pouring rain, leaving his partner to wonder
where this conversation was going.

  Abruptly he turned back to her.  "Suppose reincarnation
doesn't happen," he said softly.  "Suppose you only get one
shot at life."

  "Okay," Scully agreed, a little warily.  "What then?"

  "If you were intent on finding the right person, Scully, the
one person you intended to spend the rest of your life with -
what qualities would you look for?"

  Scully was silent, her face troubled.

  Mulder smiled at her expression.  "Don't look so worried -
I'm not trying to trap you into saying something you'll regret.
 I'm just ... exploring the subject.  Humour me, Scully - what
would you look for?"

  "Friendship," she said quietly.  

  "Not love?"

  "That too.  But you can love someone and not be friends with
them, Mulder.  I'd want friendship as much as love in a
relationship.  And I'd want similar interests, I think -
something in common, something we could share."

  "Mental stimulus?" he suggested.

  "I suppose so ... yes."  She gave him a sudden unexpected
smile that had a touch of amusement in it.  "I'm used to
associating with pretty challenging people."

  He gave a swift grin, but he was focusing more on her words.  
"So you'd want friendship, similar interests and someone who
was your intellectual equal.  Funny - those would be my
criteria too.

  "I think those are fairly universal requirements in a
partner, Mulder."

  "Interesting that you should use that particular word,
Scully."

  "Mulder - "

  "Relax!  I do have a point here, if you'll let me make it."

  Scully subsided back against the window frame.  "Then what is
it?"

  He looked down at his hands for a moment, then back up at her
with eyes that suddenly sincere.  "I think what I'm trying to
say is - maybe it doesn't matter if Melissa was my soul-mate or
not.  Maybe it doesn't matter if I've lost that chance.  I've
still got a friend who's just as important - even if she *is*
gone, I'm not alone."

  For a moment, Scully was too surprised to move or speak.  
Then she pushed the blanket aside and held out her arms to him.
 "Come here."

  He stared at her, a little uncertain.  "Scully - ?"

  "Honestly, Mulder.  Come here."

  He leaned forward, stiff and unsure, and she pulled him into
a hug.  For several moments his muscles were rigid at the
unaccustomed closeness; then he abruptly relaxed, and put his
arms around her, burying his nose in her hair.

  Mulder couldn't remember the last time he'd been really
hugged by anyone.  It was ... wonderful.

  "You're not alone while I'm here, Mulder," Scully said softly
into his left ear.  "You never have been.  You never will be if
I have a say in the matter, whether you really have a soul-mate
or not."

  He made no answer, but squeezed her a little more tightly.

  Some time later, however, he said very quietly, "I do love
you, you know."

  "I know.  I love you too."

  Outside, the rain stopped.


Finis


NB: *Is* this MSR?  I'm not sure - I'd appreciate feedback.