By  shawntaw
shawntaw@hotmail.com
 

Spoilers: After the Cancer Arc
Disclaimer: Don't own them.  Don't own Ford either (as in Taurus)
Don't own Pepsi and wouldn't want to 'cause I'm a Coca Cola girl.
(oops, don't own Coca Cola either) I certainly don't own the park, or
the Lions' Club or the City Band either, although I used to play
flute a loooong time ago.  But that's neither here nor
there...Anyway, no money being made here.

Author's Notes: Since my Dad passed away, I've noticed that alot of
what I do I see if I can see Mulder and Scully in the same
situation.  Escapism I suppose.  That's where "Flight" came from.
That's where "Playground" came from.  And its where this came from
too.  I think I might be getting melancholy.  I'm just feeling my age
and more lately...anyway, join me on the journey....

************************************************

Another damn case that went nowhere.  Another damn small town and
nothing to do before their flight out in the morning.  Mulder's
running footsteps pounded out a rhythmic tempo on the broken
sidewalk, interrupted only when he sidestepped the occasional
obstacle.

Running cleared his head and he tried to fit it in whenever he was
able.  He felt jittery and restless inside, like he was supposed to
be somewhere and he was late or supposed to be doing something and
he'd forgotten what the something was.  His tennis shoes made
plodding, smacking sounds as he ran.  His breath sounded harsh as he
puffed along.  He wished he had brought his headphones to help him
empty his head.

And Scully was no help lately.  She had started staring off into
space.  He caught her doing it at her computer.  Out the window on
roadtrips.  When they stopped to eat.  Once he charged through the
adjoining door between their hotel rooms intent upon showing her a
subtle clue he'd discovered in a file and she was just standing
there.  Staring.

She always blinked after a few seconds and continued whatever she was
doing without acknowledging the momentary lapse, but it left him
worried.  Was she having petit mal seizures?  Was it aftereffects of
the cancer? Or was she just feeling like he was?  Like the tatoo on
her back?  A snake chasing its own tail....

He sighed as his thoughts continued to spin in his head.  The running
wasn't helping this time.  Mulder looked both ways as he approached
what passed for a major intersection in the smallish Midwest town and
jogged across to the other side.

A green park stretched out before him surrounded by the city
sidewalks, but criss-crossed by meandering paved walkways as well.  A
gazebo sat atop a small rise in its center and Mulder could see
people carrying folding chairs and sitting around it.  Smoke rose
from a grill and people stood in line with paper plates.  His pace
slowed until finally he stopped.  He wondered what was going on.

A man walked past him pushing a little girl in a stroller and Mulder
reached out a hand, touching his arm.

The man turned expectantly.

"Sorry, but I'm not from around here and I was just
wondering...what's going on?"  Mulder gestured toward the gazebo.

The stranger smiled, "Oh, its the last 'Concert in the Park.' The
City Band puts them on free during the summer and the Lions' Club
sells Bratwurst and burgers.  The local Pepsi folks hand out free
soda.  I think some of the band member's spouses might've even baked
cookies this time too - since its the last one," he said, looking
toward the crowd.

Impulsively, Mulder asked, "What time does it start?"

"Seven."

Mulder glanced at his watch.  There might be just enought time, if he
hurried.

"Thanks," he waved at the man as he jogged back toward the hotel.

***********************************************

Without anything else to do, Scully was lying on her bed at the hotel
in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt rereading an article in an old
medical journal.  But sometimes she didn't see the page.

Lately she would float away unexpectedly.  She would see her life as
it used to be.  She saw the person she had been.  She wondered if she
could even be her anymore.  She longed for laughter.  She longed for
purpose.

Scully knew that she could quit the F.B.I. and pursue that life.  She
could still take a shot at being 'normal.'  Heck, the shadowy 'THEY'
would LOVE that...and they would definitely leave her alone.

But what about Mulder?

*mulder mulder mulder mulder* rattled around in her head.  She
couldn't leave him.  She couldn't desert his cause.  His mission.
His passion.

But sometimes she wondered if he'd come with her if she asked.

************************************************

Mulder arrived breathless at Scully's hotel room door.  He knocked
and worked to slow down his breathing.

Scully opened the door and tried not to react to the sight of a
sweaty, spiky-haired Mulder in cutoff sweats and old Academy t-
shirt.  She desperately filed away the memory for later reference.
He was real.. standing there.  So human.  She sometimes felt like she
was cut out of cardboard.  Scully needed Mulder to remind her that
she mattered in this life they had made for themselves.

She blinked.  She'd been doing it again.  And Mulder was frowning
slightly.

"Scully?  Did you hear me?  I said, get some jeans on.  I've gotta
surprise for you."

*Surprise?* "Surprise, Mulder?" She said it aloud, caution and
suspicion in her voice, "Not a 'let's go for a quick trip in the
woods'- type of a surprise, I hope?"

He was shaking his head, a twinkle in his eye, "No, no, nothing like
that.  Come on, hurry up," he said and was keying into his own
room, "Last one ready has to buy the brats."

And with this cryptic statement, he entered his room.

"The what?" Scully said loudly, stepping outside her own room.

"The brahhhhhts, Scully," Mulder said, leaning out again, "You'll
see."

***********************************************

Hauling a folded, borrowed hotel blanket over one arm, Mulder got out
of the Taurus and waited for Scully to get out of the car on her side.

He admired her for a moment as she squinted toward the crowd in the
park.  She wore the same baggy t-shirt she had been earlier, but had
exchanged the sweats for a pair of worn-in jeans.  Her hair was
mostly pulled back in a clip, but Mulder noticed she had foregone
most of her make-up.  Her only dressed-up item was the requisite pair
of tall, square-heeled brown suede boots she wore.

"So, what's going on here, Mulder?" She turned to him, her blue-eyes
hidden by stylish sunglasses.

He simply pushed his own sunglasses up to the top of his head,
waggled his eyebrows at her and slammed his door enthusiastically.

"Come on, Scully," he said and strode off into the park.

With rolled eyes and a sigh, she did the inevitable and followed him.

*************************************************

*Man, but he looks good* she thought, admiring her partner's tall
form as he stalked into the crowd.  He was wearing his "Typical Off-
Duty Mulder Outfit," as she thought of it.  *Are those the only type
of clothes he owns or does he know they're my favorite?* she wondered.

Gray t-shirt, jeans, running shoes and his brown leather jacket...she
sighed aloud since he was too far away to hear and picked up her own
pace to catch up to him....

where he stood in front of a booth that proclaimed "Brats 1.00,
Burgers 2.00, Chips .50.  Proceeds go to your local Lions' Club.
Pepsi donated by your local Pepsi Bottling Company. Cookies donated
by the City Band Boosters."

"Ohhhkay," she said, "That still doesn't explain what a 'brat' is,"
she pointed out to Mulder.  He was rubbing his hands together and
held up one finger as if to say, "Ah, but watch this!"

"Two brats, two chips, a Pepsi and a Diet Pepsi," he told the woman
inside the booth, "Oh, and two chocolate chip cookies."

The woman smiled, turned and repeated their order to the cook and
turned back to them, "You two are new around here, aren't you?  The
F.B.I. agents?"

"Yes ma'am," Mulder said as he handed her the money, "How did you
know that?"

She waved a dismissive hand at him, "Oh, my Harold's a detective with
the department.  He's on trombone today," she said proudly, pointing
toward the gazebo.

"You better hurry and find a spot.  Its going to start any time now,"
she said as she handed Mulder their food stacked on paper plates.
She handed Scully the drinks.

"There's a spot over there," she pointed, "under that tree."

When they'd walked a few paces away, Scully looked at Mulder.

"On trombone??"

Mulder smiled and led the way to an empty spot on the grass under a
small tree not too far from the gazebo.  As he set down the heaped
paper plates and spread out the blanket from where it had been draped
over his arm to make a clean spot to sit upon, Scully pushed up her
own sunglasses and  again looked toward the gazebo.

She had a good view from here and could see what looked to be a
marching band setting up to play.  There were flutes and clarinets.
Coronets and Trombones.  Bass drums and symbols and more. Scully
began to relax and had to fight the urge to laugh.

"This really IS what I think it is, right?" she said, turning back
toward Mulder as he reached for the drinks she held, "Just a nice
concert in the park?  No case? No secret meeting with an informant?
Nothing like that I should know about?"

Mulder paused and stared at her for a moment.  He got a soft,
melancholy look on his face.  "I just wanted us to relax, Scully.  No
hidden agenda.  I promise."

He held out a hand to her, "Come on, join me."  Scully felt her
insides unclench.  No, they would never have a completely 'normal'
life, but maybe they could indulge every now and again.

The band played pretty well.  Scully found out she loved brats -
which turned out to be great-big, greasy sausages served on a bun
like a hot dog - with onions.  She watched the children run and play
in the park. She watched Mulder tap his foot off beat and was proud
of herself when she didn't pick on him for it.

For Mulder's part, he just enjoyed watching Scully.  She looked
happy.  Her gaze wasn't empty and she sat so close he could feel the
heat of her warming his side.  And he didn't even mind her onion
breath when she laughed at something he said.

All in all, it was a 'normal' evening and when it came to an
inevitable end and the crowd drifted away, Scully did something that
Mulder would never forget.  He would never forget it even later when
their relationship progressed physically.  He would always think of
it as the pivotal moment when he learned something important about
Scully.  She needed 'normal' every now and then so that their quest
didn't drain all the life out of her. She needed it like air.

As the crowd thinned, she leaned in close all of a sudden and gave
him a soft onion kiss.  When she pulled away it was only far enough
to speak.

"Thank you, Mulder," she whispered, her vision filling with his warm
hazel eyes, "Thank you."

******************************************************

Had a nice evening in the park today with my daughter.  We had
a "girls' night out" and left the guys at home.  Good burger (no
onions).  Good Pepsi (although I prefer Coke) and bland chips.  Good
marching band.  Made me wanna get up and march around.  Watched my
daughter swing on a tire swing and marvelled how big she's getting.
She's starting to cock her head to one side and say in an exasperated
voice, "Mah-muh" as though she is about to tell me something so very
OBVIOUS and can't I see?? Where has the time gone? Does pre-teen
behavior really start when they're EIGHT?? *L*

  *sigh*