================================================================ Roman de la Pendrell - Mary Ruth Keller ================================================================ This little back-story just fell out when I was working my way through what to do with Pendrell in my Scully Trilogy. Normally, since it's only fluff, with no case involving the paranormal, no Conspiracy, I would just have left it on my hard disk. But, with the two appearances of the character in the Fourth Season, and the stories that have been posted about it, I gave it a second look. "Folly", while a wonderful piece, left me a little down, so I wanted to post something regarding Pendrell from the viewpoint of the Dynamic Duo as close friends and colleagues. There is another way to handle the whole Mulder- Scully-Pendrell situation, you see, and that's by writing the three of them as mature, responsible adults. Well, except for Mulder, but then, he's never really been an adult, at least not emotionally, anyway. Writing this over the summer basically told me Pendrell isn't worth more than the Scully-Byers discussion in "Passages in Memory". So, consider this a side- tale to the main trunk of the trilogy I'm working on right now. In the interest of individuality, I've given Pendrell 'Arthur' for a first name. It may be something else, but Arthur Pendrell is darn close to Uther Pendragon, so it fits the Celtic theme. A much shorter version of this story was released to the X-Philes Creative Mailing List on October 25 & 28, 1996. For those folks who usually don't read my longer stuff, I've branched off the show after "Syzygy" to create a parallel reality for FM & DS. They are a investigative team (FBI Agents and PARTNERS, what a thought), so 'Mulder knowing it all without doing any work' and the Scullyditch don't exist in my Universe. Over here, he still has to think to earn his kibble. He also wouldn't fall for a line about "soul-mates through eternity", spoken by a Jim Jones groupie with multiple personalities. Anyway, this is set after "Passages in Memory", but you really don't need to have read it for this to make sense. All you need to know is that, at present in my story arc, Mulder and Scully are heading an expanded X-files section, with two other agents (Rosen, a skeptic like Scully, and Nichols, a believer like Mulder) and a secretary (Cynthia). Oh, yeah, the disclaimers. Mulder, Scully, Pendrell, Margaret Scully, and the Pomeranian are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. They are used totally without permission, but with a great deal of respect and pleasure. Any reproductions must have my name and E-mail address attached, and are not to be used for profit. Given the current row Fox has started with the fans, insert a mental (TM) or C (inside a circle) after every occurrence of the above names. I'll have more to say on the whole business at the end. The film mentioned is John Sayles', and I don't know if he produced it himself or not, but it's not mine either. Finally, 'Scullyditch' is Mary Pleiss' phrase, but it about sums it up, don'tcha think? ================================================================= ------------------------------------------------------------- Leonato: So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. Beatrice: Just, if he sends me no husband; for which bless- ing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face: I would rather lie on the woollen. Leonato: You may light on a husband that hath no beard. Beatrice: What should I do with him? Dress him in my ap- parel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth; and he that hath no beard is less than a man: and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his apes into hell. Much Ado About Nothing --------------------------------------------------------- FBI Crime Lab J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC Friday, July 18, 1997 10:46 am For what seemed like the thousandth time this week, Arthur Pendrell took the envelope from his briefcase and placed it squarely on the lab bench in front of him. Tucked inside were two tickets to the National Symphony Concert tonight. Ever since she had walked into his lab to ask for his help with her implant, he had been dying to do this, but now, he was afraid he would die if he didn't. Picking the white packet up, he checked the two tickets inside. These were for a matinee performance of pieces by some famous, and some not- so-famous American composers. With Leonard Slatkin at the helm, the NSO had developed into a world-class Symphony, and the early slots were all that were available on short notice. He slipped the envelope away when he heard the lab door rattle. If it was his boss, he didn't want to be caught mooning by his microscope. But, it was only Phillips, the lab tech from forensics, bringing down a new evidence tray for him to check over. "Agent Pendrell?" "Yes, Agent Phillips?" --o-0-o-- FBI Gymnasium J. Edgar Hoover Building Friday, 12:47 pm Pendrell marched through the weight room determinedly. Before he could put his plan in action, he had to clear one minor detail up first. As he pushed open the glass door to the pool area, he saw only one athlete still left in the water, whose curly brown hair he recognized almost immediately. It was the new X-Files agent, Rosen, he thought was her name, the one with the PhD in Astronomy and more brains than he could even begin to fathom. However, there was another swimmer toweling off by the edge, and Rosen paused in her even strokes to nod as the lean figure in red Speedos knelt. "How many more today?" "Ten, Mulder, I have a competition next Saturday." Pendrell watched Mulder nod, rise, and walk away, wondering what it was like for him to work with not one, but two, brilliant, beautiful women. He had heard all the rumors, had observed them together at multiple FBI functions, but he still couldn't divine the nature of their relationship. He never saw them dance together, even at the mandatory Bureau- wide Christmas parties, but the tall agent otherwise never left her side. Always the perfect gentleman, always bending over so she could speak in his ear without standing on tip-toe, Mulder appeared to dote on her. Taking a deep breath, he approached the X-Files Section Head, who was rubbing his hair vigorously with the thick white terrycloth. "Agent Mulder?" Draping the towel around his neck, the tall man faced him. "Agent Pendrell." Mulder worked to keep his voice level, even though he had a good idea as to why the red-haired man was here. "How may I help you?" He turned to watch Rosen work her way systematically from one end of the pool to the other and back again. "Um,..., I'd like to speak to you about Agent Scully." Mulder pretended to be surprised by this. "Oh? What about Agent Scully?" Running his hands through his hair, he started walking towards the men's locker room. Pendrell glanced over at him. If the partners were sleeping together, he could certainly see why. Mulder was everything he, physically, was not, tall, slender, and muscular. Except for a slightly over-large nose, he was nearly as perfect a man as any Greek sculpture. But, Pendrell had too many Jewish friends in his neighborhood growing up to consider any such trait detrimental. Pulling the door open, Mulder passed through ahead of him, holding it until Pendrell had a firm grasp before walking on. As the shorter man followed behind Mulder, Pendrell caught sight of the multiple scars on the front and back of the older agent's torso and limbs. He flushed at the thought that Scully had treated many of those wounds with her own hands. Now the partner to the love of his dreams faced him, his eyes openly amused. "What about Scully?" Just for the fun of it, Mulder would drag this out as long as he could. "Ah, Sir, are uh, you and Agent Scully, ah..." Mulder lifted an eyebrow. "Are we what, Pendrell?" One corner of his mouth twitched at the freckled man's discomfort. "Are you and Agent Scully, um, _seeing_ each other?" Mulder sighed. "Well, it would be tough for us to see each other, Pendrell. She's not standing in front of me, is she?" He waved his arm at the other agents changing in the room before patting the younger man's shoulder. "It would make for some interesting aerobics in here if she were, don'tcha think?" He smirked at the exasperated sigh from his red- haired colleague. "That's not what I meant." "Oh?" "I mean, are you and she,..., um,..., dating?" Mulder lifted down his gym bag, wondering if he should play this as insulted or angry. But, one glance at Pendrell's anxious face made him opt for honesty instead. "No, Pendrell, we aren't." The light in the pale green eyes was astonishing. Mulder unzipped his bag to retrieve his shampoo, soap, and an extra towel. "Agent Scully and I are very close friends, but we're not," Cocking his head, he copied the younger man's inflection, "um,..., dating. Does that relieve your mind?" His hazel eyes twinkling with mischief, he watched the red curls bob. "Is there a reason you're asking me this?" "Well, um, I was, uh, thinking of,..., asking her to the Symphony tonight?" Mulder made a great show of serious contemplation as he rolled the toiletries in the towel. After they walked to the shower, he turned. "I think Agent Scully would enjoy an evening of Classical Music, Agent Pendrell." Now the younger man beamed. "But, and I'm saying this as Scully's partner and friend, if you hurt her in any way, be prepared never to have a restful night again. In that case, always watch over your shoulder, because I'll be waiting for you. Remember, I know where you live!" Mulder spun on his heel to saunter into the showers, grinning madly. The look of horror on Pendrell's face would buoy him through this afternoon's bull session in the basement, postponing the fear of loss he knew would settle on him like a toxic fog. As usual, Nichols had written a summary report that had sent Rosen and Scully through their mutually refueled stage of raging fury into full nuclear annihilation. Although, he had to give Doctor Curie, as he loved to jokingly refer to Rosen, credit for her patience. She would explain, in her calm, even mezzo just how whacked out Nichols' ideas were, showing how, with the evidence in hand, no stretch of the facts could be construed to support them. Nichols, to be given his due, would tolerate these discussions far more easily than he ever could in the early days of the X-Files. He, as the Section Head, enjoyed serving as referee of their free-for-all debates, because between their four different viewpoints, an idea or solution would usually fall out that would eventually resolve the case. His partner and Assistant Head was developing the ability to serve as conciliator, collecting and focusing the group's efforts. He smiled. They were as much a team as ever he could have wanted, but now there was Pendrell. --o-0-o-- X-Files Offices Second Floor J. Edgar Hoover Building Friday, 1:13 pm Mulder opened the heavy oak door to the reception area just as Pendrell approached, so they nodded to each other. The tall agent took the opportunity to twist the knife one last time. "If she's not smiling on Monday, you're a dead man." The skin beneath the freckles turned pale. Mulder smirked as he stepped inside, but was pulled up short by a fuming Dana Scully, who latched onto his arm with a vise grip and dragged him towards his office. Pretending not to see anything, Cynthia typed furiously at the keyboard when they passed her. Scully locked the door behind them. Tapping her foot while her tightly clenched fists pushed inward against her hips, she glared at him. "What did you say to Pendrell? He could barely string two words together with me!" He hunkered behind the great desk. "That he should show you a good time." Her eyes were almost as capable of boring holes in him now, as they had been in their dream in Arkansas. "No, Mulder, what did you say? I want a direct quote, not a paraphrase." Sighing, he sat up at his full height. "OK, Scully, OK. He asked me in the gym if we were seeing each other." They rolled their eyes at the neverending rumor. "I told him we are close friends, but no." She crossed her arms. "And?" He stared at the desk top. "I told him not to hurt you, or I'd come after him." Her audible burst of exasperation brought him to his feet. "Scully, you asked!" She looped her hair behind her ear. "Yes, I did, didn't I?" Her eyes glinted as she started dribbling his basketball. "Well, I guess I'll just have to give you the blow by blow then, now won't I?" Grinning, he held out both hands to stop the orange sphere from crashing into his abdomen. "Ooh, kiss and tell, Doctor Scully!" She turned to the door. "Let's go, Chief. Rosen probably has Nichols in a choke-hold about now." He stepped away from the desk after her. "Yeah, but knowing him, he's loving it." At her glare, he leaned into her face and added: "When I see you later, Scully, you'd better be glowing, or I'll start loading my gun." They exited the office together. --o-0-o-- --o-0-o-- Concert Hall Kennedy Center Washington, DC Friday, July 18, 1997 6:14 pm Dana Scully smiled at her date, sitting to her right in the rear orchestra section of the gigantic hall. Arthur Pendrell flushed, then smiled back. He had met her at the door, a bouquet of yellow roses in hand, had offered her his arm, and squired her delicately out to his Subaru. The powder blue tuxedo was obviously rented, and she was touched by the consideration, even though her choice of a long azure dress left them looking like a couple of kids going to the prom. He leaned towards her, and she found herself bracing for a quick quip about haunted chandeliers. "Agent Scully?" She shook her head. "Please, just use Dana. We aren't at work." His eyes widened. "Oh...OK, Dana." Scully thought she caught the slightest sheen of perspiration on his forehead, even in the air-conditioned space, so she waited. He finally licked his lips and continued. "Then please, use Arthur." Nodding, she sent him another small smile, which agitated him still further. Dana Scully focused on the pages in the thick Playbill she had been handed as they entered, hoping the man beside her would settle in a bit. She chewed her lip. She and her partner probably would never think to attend a symphony performance together, even after work, even if the program was all music from the conservative school of British composers. Mulder, having been exposed to them at Oxford, proclaimed them to her, one long night on a stake-out, the best Classical music to have come from Twentieth Century. After her introduction to Alwyn, Finzi, Rubbra, and the rest, their consonant, yet thoroughly modern music harking back to a gentler time, she had come to appreciate his tastes. Checking Pendrell without turning, she discovered he was watching her, rather than the musicians assembling on the stage. "Dana?" She raised her head to meet his eyes. "Are you cold?" "Um, no, but thank you for asking." She shifted around in her seat. "Are you feeling a draft?" He flushed again. "No, thank you." Scully laid the program in her lap. "Arthur?" A nervous twitch was all the response he seemed to be able to muster. "Thank you for asking me here tonight. I haven't had a quiet evening like this for years." For a brief moment, he grinned broadly, his eyes crinkling almost into a blink. She found herself surprised at the difference between him now and the man who chattered incessantly whenever she entered the Crime Lab. She found herself thinking of Mulder again, how they could drift from topic to topic, but, after five years, they shared so many things someone like Pendrell would never understand. Fortunately, the concert-master called on the oboist to set the pitch, so they were both distracted by the beginnings of the performance. --o-0-o-- West Coast Video Arlington, Virginia Friday, 6:34 pm Fox Mulder wandered aimlessly around the display racks, half expecting his partner to approach him, carrying one of those art films she seemed to revel in. He sighed, stepping back to allow two young women to pass in front of him. Spinning, he began to casually throw a line out. But, the voice was in his head, so he shrugged. He wondered when he had become so dependent on having her around. That was what she had reassured him with on the way back upstairs before they signed off early, for them, but a good ten hours after they had both darkened the door of their Second Floor Offices. Lifting the clear plastic box off the shelf, he added it to the stack of two others in red covers from the back room. He had paid for the videos, returned to his car, and was driving up the street to his apartment before he wondered why he had rented a film his partner would enjoy. Mulder chewed his lip, waiting at the intersection for a line of cars to pass so he could turn into the parking lot of his apartment complex. He grunted. He pulled into the spot marked '42', turned the engine off, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Shoving the door open, he stomped angrily into his building, jiggling his change loudly with the fist thrust in his pocket while he waited for the elevator. He started pacing, waiting for the car to descend from the third floor. He crossed his arms, heedless of the three tapes slapping against his side, thinking only of the surgery she had undergone, over a year ago. As the doors opened, Mulder nodded reflexively to the woman leaving for the evening, dressed for her own date. Mulder entered, punching the glowing two thoughtlessly. He began pacing in the small box as it ascended. When the doors opened, he moved out, then pulled his keys from his pocket as he walked to Apartment 42. --o-0-o-- Kennedy Center Friday, 6:47 pm The concert hall filled with the sound of polite applause. The orchestra had just finished John Knollys Payne's "Overture to 'As You Like It'", the last of three opening works. When their elbows bumped, she turned to her date, but Pendrell wasn't waiting to speak to her. Scully watched the guest narrator take a seat on stage, while the orchestra settled in for the featured work, Aaron Copeland's "A Lincoln Portrait". It was, after all, just past Independence Day. She found herself smirking at the sly thoughts that rang in her ears in her partner's voice. She glanced at Pendrell, who smiled back nervously, and she let her mind wander as the lights began to dim. She considered the possibilities, none of them extreme. Arthur Pendrell wasn't bad looking, and who knows, once he was over his shyness, he might turn into a good companion and conversationalist. There were times when she would be glad for a break, from the horror and twisted knowledge she and her partner had. Would Pendrell have to end up like them, watching over his shoulder, checking his apartment for bugs, his water for chemicals? How long would it be before the little lines would appear around his eyes, before he would have trouble sleeping too? One thing she knew, her partner would try, would pull back to give her the space she needed to be happy, joking that Pendrell was luckier than he realized. That was all his teasing had been earlier today, a desperate cover-up of how much he really needed her in his life. All their connections, the way they could read each other's thoughts and finish each other's sentences, would be strained. That window she had into his troubled mind and anguished soul would eventually glaze over, then darken completely. They would fall back, possibly so far back that the recriminations and back-biting that had sprung up before would recur, as poisonous and painful as the first time. Each depended on their connections to keep themselves alive and sane, she more than Scully was willing to admit, even to herself. It had happened when her Father had grown older and slowed down, so he had finally chosen to take shore duty and a desk job. It was supposed to be a good thing, this being home with his Margaret and his children, but it had been a trial for all of them. Her Mother had lost what little independence she had, and for the first time in their marriage, they had spent hours in their bedroom, quarreling quietly where the four children couldn't hear them. Initially a good thing as well, her getting that life Mulder always teased her about, but, what would that really mean? She would have to adjust, just as her Mother had, which would be hard, too hard, probably. Pendrell would have his own set of shortcomings she would be expected to compensate for, a different collection of likes and dislikes that she would have to adjust to. Mulder would still be there, at work and on cases, with his needs and crazy ideas. Two men, each requiring two carefully developed mental and emotional sensors, equally finely tuned, one for the health of a purely selfish relationship on her part, the other for staying alive and sane. She glanced at her date, who looked like he was relaxing for the first time that evening. She hadn't been there to save her sister, and who knew whether the rest of her family was still under observation as well. Mulder had it right, back in February, no one else should be drawn into the maze they were in, least of all the amiable, gracious man beside her. Turning her attention back to the performance, she pushed aside the unbidden realization that she was becoming too much like her partner. --o-0-o-- Japan Inn Washington, DC Friday, 9:23 pm Pendrell gulped, hard, wondering how to respond to the statements of the woman across the low table. He had heard things, certainly, but the incredible tales that she spun, one after the other, knocked him for a loop. "Dana, I don't know what to say." Leaning forward, she nodded. Talking had cured him of his shyness, but the conversation had left him, as the honest, open creature he was, full of concern. "I understand, Arthur, believe you me, I _know_ how strange this all sounds. Mulder and I tried to work out how much we would tell Rosen and Nichols when they first came to work with us." Setting down her chopsticks, she took a sip of green tea from the blue and white tumbler. While scanning the Japanese landscapes painted on the silk screens set up to enclose their dining space, he blew out a small breath. "But, Dana, if your job is as dangerous as you say, don't you need someone around?" She cocked one eyebrow at him, so he apologized immediately. "Not that you can't look out for yourself." He smiled briefly. "Back at the Bureau, we all know you're the reason Mulder's still alive." She chuckled, so, emboldened, he continued. "But you can't be constantly at the same high level of vigilance forever. I'd be willing to..., I'd be honored to..." Now she lifted one corner of her mouth, the fundamental decency of this man catching her off-guard. "You have to realize what's at stake here, Arthur. If you were to continue with me, you would be putting not only yourself, but your family, at risk. How many is that?" She settled back, waiting, wondering how far she would have to go to persuade him to leave off his hopeless quest. "Well, both sets of grandparents are still alive, my father has three other children from his first marriage, and I have six..." He shook his head. "You mean they'd all be..." She nodded. "You know about my sister, of course." "Yes, I really sorry, Dana." She inclined her head to show her gratitude at his courtesy, then looked directly into his viridescent eyes. "Well, we haven't let it be known that my Mother's house was bugged, as was my brother Charlie's." He dipped his last piece of salmon skin roll in soy sauce, dabbed on an extra bit of neon green wasabi, and swallowed it in one gulp before responding. "I never thought it was that blatant. We hear things in the labs, you know, but until now, I thought they were just rumors, inflated by retelling into something out of the Twilight Zone." Chewing on a piece of pickled ginger, she shook her head. "I wish, Arthur, but I've seen too much to treat it as anything other than very real and very dangerous." She glanced at the silhouettes of the couple on the other side of the screens, who had fallen silent as the evening progressed. The tables were placed a little too close for private dining, so Scully was afraid they had heard far too much to be comfortable. "Besides, mutants and multi-national government conspiracies don't make pleasant dinner conversation." Now the red-haired man grinned. "Well, the mutants would be fun, anyway. Whatever came of those samples of Tooms' DNA you sent off?" She laughed, a quick, short bark that startled the tiny woman a foot or two from her elbow. "The genetic structure was so unusual, the group working on it tried to publish the results. But they could never respond to all of the comments from the reviewers, even after trying three separate journals." "Well, if you and Mulder are right, I could see why. You know, I figured you would tell me we couldn't continue to see each other, but I didn't think it to be for the reasons you gave. I expected it to be because of Mulder." Scully smiled. "You believed I was harboring some unrequited lust for my partner's body?" She shrugged. "Limerance requires distance and mystery, Arthur, but with what's out there, distance is the last thing we can afford." She reached across the table, touching his hand. "Look, I know this all sounds clinical and cold, which is why I am so relieved you're this understanding." Sighing, he set down the chopsticks so he could wipe his mouth. He was still stunned by their discussion, but his natural politeness spoke through him, hoping to salvage something from all his efforts. "No, really, it all makes sense. Would you mind if we did this again, just as friends, I mean?" Blinking, he watched her think, expecting a negative response. Her growing smile, as she considered, left his spine tingling in anticipation. "I'd like that. Mulder and I are really close, but sometimes it's good to step back and relax, to take off the badge and gun, so to speak. This was delightful, really special. Thanks for everything, Arthur. Let's do this again, just," Scully glanced down at her dress. "without all the hooplah, OK?" She touched his hand a second time, the action offering not promise, but continued connection. --o-0-o-- --o-0-o-- Apartment 42 Arlington, VA Friday, July 18, 1997 10:07 pm Mulder swung the door open before his visitor had a chance to knock the third time. As he had hoped, it was his partner, still dressed from her evening. For the occasion, she had chosen a short- sleeved, princess-lined, floor-length satin dress in pale blue, with lace overstitched on the long vertical seams. Her hair was pinned up and allowed, for once, to curl as it did when they had first worked together. Her new heels must have raised her head higher than her date's, Mulder wondering briefly if she had intended them for use with a taller man. But any such thoughts were pushed out by the image of Pendrell, who he guessed had rented a matching tuxedo, so he smirked. "What, Mulder?" She glanced down at herself before he reached for her elbow to guide her in. "Nothing, Scully." He closed the door. "You're early." He made a great show of holding her chin in his hand, turning her face from side to side, tilting it up and down, before she ran out of patience and stepped back. "MULDERRR!" He frowned. "I see a distinct lack of internally induced emanations, Scully. Shall I load my Sig?" She rolled her eyes and stomped to his futon. "What did you expect? Did you believe Pendrell capable of a wild night of passion?" Sitting beside her, he placed one hand on his chest. "Are you asking for my personal experience?" The LOOK. "No, I wasn't. Did you at least have good seats?" Nodding, she pushed off the heels. "It was a wonderful performance, and a nice dinner afterwards." She reached for the West Coast Video bag on his coffee table, but he snatched it up and tucked it behind his back. "No, no, the dirt first, like you promised. Besides, two of the tapes in there are for me, not us." "MULDER! There's no dirt to tell! We had a pleasant meal of sushi at Japan Inn after the concert, and I told him the reason I wasn't um,..., dating you was the same reason I wasn't interested in um,..., _dating_ anyone seriously." He nodded. "It's too dangerous for the other person." Her shoulders sagged. "Yes. I think he understood, at least I hope he did. He's a sweet guy, who should have a nice, uncomplicated life, Mulder. I'm glad he finally asked me out; now he can get on with it." She stood. "I'll be back, partner." After a quick stop in his bedroom, she limped into his bathroom, closing the door. He followed her with his eyes, feeling the fear and depression that had kept him slumped on his sofa, flipping channels relentlessly, evaporate. When she returned, she had changed into one of the old pairs of her sweats and an oversized T shirt she kept at his place, just as he kept a few clothes at hers. But, she was without shoes, and her white feet had red stripes from the straps in her new heels that made him wince. She hobbled into his front room, hanging the borrowed suit bag containing her dress and shoes over the hook on the inside of his front door. Waiting for him to return from his bedroom, Scully settled on the far end of the empty futon from her partner's nest of cheese curls and sunflower seeds. When he resumed his seat, he was still holding the films, but also a small tube of aloe-based skin cream, so she smiled her gratitude. "What's the movie?" Placing the bag on the floor, he held the plastic case out for her to see. "Something for my Celtic priestess." The video was 'The Secret of Roan Inish' so she granted him one of her few, broad smiles. "Ahab would have loved that story; the sea and the skelkie-woman would have made him so happy. I could hear him teasing Mom about being one for at least a month afterward." He slid the tape in the machine. "Good, I'll play it for us all, then." Mulder fast forwarded through the advertisements and previews, settling back only when the credits began to roll. Then, clucking softly at the blisters, he lifted both of her feet onto his lap. Relaxing against the cushions he passed her, she let him rub the ointment into the red lines with gentle fingers, soothing the aches in her heels and ankles away under his caring massage. Once she could wiggle her toes without stiffness, they stopped the tape, taking a break so she could prepare some herbal iced tea, and he some microwave popcorn. When they returned to the sofa, she sat beside him, snagging a few kernels as the movie continued. When the bowl was empty, she moved it to the coffee table to nestle against his side. Mulder glanced down at Scully, but did not lower his arm from the back of the futon to hold her. When the two children departed to rebuild the old family homes, she pressed the pause button. "Mulder?" He shifted his shoulders so he could look her in the eye. "Hum?" "Does it bother you?" "Does what bother me?" "That Pendrell asked me out?" He lifted his cel phone off the end table. "Let me get this straight, Scully. My gorgeous, unattached partner and friend is asked out on her first real, full-blown date in years by a colleague. Said colleague takes her to the Symphony and a fine restaurant, generally treating her as honorably as any father or brother might wish for. My partner appears at my door afterward at an entirely respectable hour, spills all the non- details to me, and settles in for a movie and popcorn afterward." He held the phone to his ear, speaking in his best Tom Hanks imitation. "Houston, we do NOT have a problem here!" She lifted one corner of her mouth and stared at the darkened screen, then back at him with raised eyebrows. "OK, I see your point. I just had to ask." He shrugged. "So, finish the movie?" Scully nodded, so they watched for a few more minutes in silence, her feet tucked up beside her, his arm curled snugly around her waist. Abruptly, he stopped the tape. "Actually, Scully, I do have a problem with you being concerned I might have a problem." They faced each other, Scully crossing her legs on the cushions to keep her balance. "You are far enough along as an Agent now that a few dates won't count against you career- wise. Do you want to see other people but can't, because I am monopolizing your free time?" Reading the guarded look he shot her, she shook her head. "I was just checking. I don't want things to change between us, one way or the other. We understand each other too well, share so many things I don't think even we're aware of them all. I've saved your life." She covered the hand holding the remote with her own. "You've saved mine. Pendrell deserved to be let down easily, so I went out with him, but I meant it when I told him it was too dangerous to be involved with me." He shifted closer to her, that big- brother protectiveness he tried to restrain taking over. "Oh." She settled against him again. "Besides, it's been years between when I could just sit like this with Ahab, and now, when I can do it with you. Until college and medical school took over my life, he and I would spend part of every evening he was home on the porch, counting the stars, or talking about the sea, or saying nothing at all." She fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt, and her voice was very soft as she continued. "I still miss him, and this helps, even if it's not the most exciting way you could be spending your Friday nights, Mulder." He idly released the clasp on one of the gold barrettes holding her bangs back, smiling as the copper curls cascaded over her forehead. "Yah, well, Sam's not so far away when you're around either, so it helps us both, I guess." She tucked her shoulder under his arm, and they drew strength to give each other for another day, another week of struggle. Scully patted his stomach. "Finish the tape, Mulder, I need to call my Mom." Lowering his lips to her ear, he whispered his affirmation. "Yes Ma'am, Doctor Scully." The excessive formality, spoken in jest, told her he was reassured, finally, that she was still his partner and friend. Settling in, she dropped her head on his chest. Mulder dipped his face forward enough to catch the scent of her rosemary shampoo, but no perfume, and could see she wore no make-up. "Poor Arthur." Rubbing her shoulder, he chuckled. "Right." The light from the screen flickered on both of their faces as they watched. Once the movie ended, he passed her the cell phone. "Number four." She arched a brow at the information. "Mom?" "Dana!" A pause. "Are you alright? Is Fox OK?" "Yes, Mom, we are." She shifted until she was sitting, her knees drawn up, leaning back against his side. He left his arm snugged around her waist, so she rubbed his elbow as she talked. "I'm at Mulder's right now, where we just finished seeing a movie Ahab would have loved, Mom, 'The Secret of Roan Inish'. Have you had a chance to catch it?" She waited. "No, well, go rent it soon, or I'll bring it east for you, alright?" She twisted to look at her partner. "Labor Day? I'll ask." He nodded before she pulled the phone away. "He says yes, Mom, so expect us on the Friday night before." He grinned. "Oh, nothing much else to report, Mom. Work is work." She waggled her head. "Right, nothing I can tell you about, that you'd believe anyway. Nichols is crazy as usual." Mulder snorted, so, frowning, she mouthed his name. "No, Mulder doesn't have a cold. He thinks Nichols is nuts too, sometimes, although as Section Head he has to be fair to him. Rosen?" She smiled. "She scares me, Mom." He cocked his head. "She can build and demolish evidence chains faster than Mulder." He unclipped the bangs on the other side of her head. "Oh, that's the dog? Alright, love you too. Bye." She terminated the call before handing him the phone. "Mom sends her love." After he replaced it on the table, he faced her, smirking. "So, do you want to watch these other tapes with me, Scully? You can get even more comfortable if you want." She pushed herself off the futon, refusing to respond to the boyish glee. "No thanks, partner, I don't have to see one to know the plot, from beginning to lurid end." He stood as well. "Oh, be that way, then. What time do you want to hit the trail tomorrow?" She shrugged. "I'll see you back here about six? Are we meeting Rosen?" "No. You can keep up with her on the blades, but you two run me into the ground and leave me for dead." He pointed at her feet. "You'll be OK? You could use the bedroom and I could drive you home tomorrow afterwards?" "I'm fine. I've driven barefoot before. Thanks for the movie, Mulder." He walked her to her car and waved her off. --o-0-o-- FBI Crime Lab J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC Monday, June 20, 1997 9:17 am "Yes?" Pendrell looked up from the microscope. "Oh, hello, Agent Phillips." The tiny blonde woman in her lab coat hesitated in the doorway, so Pendrell walked over to her. "Are those the new chemical analysis slides?" "Yes they are, Agent Pendrell. Do you have a minute?" He waved her in. "Sure do. Which cases are they from?" She recited the numbers and crimes. "Really? Tell me more." She rolled the cart to his workbench as he closed the door behind them. "Oh, Agent Phillips, please call me Arthur, alright?" Her eyes wide behind the thick glasses, the woman turned to him. "Great. Then I'm Terry. This one is from Alabama..." After a long weekend of soul-searching, he had decided to move on. Someone like Dana Scully was out of his league anyway, although he had no intentions of backing out of the genuine friendship she offered. Terry Phillips was thin and pretty in her own serious way. --FINIS-- --------------------------------------------------- Good morrow, masters; put your torches out: The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well. Much Ado About Nothing --------------------------------------------------- Like I said, pure fluff. That bit of Mulderangst was tough to write; I don't see how people do it for pages and pages. It'll be a month or two before the scientifically correct "Firewalker" is ready for others. Matt Weed is giving me a crash course in molecular biology. Anyway, I couldn't finish this up without a few remarks about our current stand as fans against the heavy-handed tactics of Fox television. Right now, 1013 is riding a wave of tremendous popularity, and the short-sighted network weenies have decided they don't need our help, that marketing can do it all for them. Well, in six months, I think they'll wake up and find themselves with a rude surprise. "The X-Files" (TM) (I suppose I have to do this now) and "Millennium" (TM) are shows that will never make it for long in the mainstream of television, that would never have made it this far without the fan support. Lest he forgets, CC gave permission for the fan groups to exist, for the fan fiction to be written and posted on the Net, as long as it adheres to three rules: (1) No romance between Mulder (TM) and Scully (TM). (2) No time travel. (3) Eugene Victor Tooms (TM) is dead. (I don't remember anyone trying to violate that one.) Much of the stuff released on the Creative Group and the mailing lists conforms, so to shut down all the fan pages for the sake of a few dollars violates his agreement with us. As for the rest, well, the genie is out of the bottle, the horse is out of the barn, etc., and no way in that hot dark place will he be able to shove it all back in. Furthermore, (and I'm sure there are many other authors out there who share my experience) I know my stories have been given to others to read, and those third parties have become hooked on the show as a result. CC can't throw around the concepts of subjective reality, truth, freedom, and the evil of conspiracies by the powerful over the powerless as advertising gimmicks, then expect us all not to take him seriously. If he thinks we will all roll over now, then he's become one of THEM, sad to say, and he's blown the biggest opportunity of his life. He should take his oh-so-smug self over to Majel Barett Roddenberry's place and let her explain to him why "Star Trek" is the phenomenon that it is. If that doesn't convince him we are on his side, (sound familiar?) he should take some of those profits he's so concerned with and convert them into a trans- Atlantic call to Patrick McGoohan. Let him explain why a seventeen episode series, released on the BBC in 1967, and banned on American television in its day, is out on laserdisc, when "Peyton Place" isn't. Enough. I need to get back to my creative thoughts. Comments, criticism, etc. on my little piece of "The X-Files" (TM) universe are welcome. I'm a big girl, so if you have suggestions as to how I can improve my writing, I'd be glad to hear them. After all, it's not for filthy lucre, just for my own intellectual development. So, there, lawyers. Never forget the Bard's opinion of you. -- ================================================================================ Mary Ruth Keller - Alexandria, VA "Is it possible distain should die while Phone: (703)683-1599 she hath such meet food to feed it, as mkeller@universe.digex.net Signior Benedick?" - Much Ado About Nothing ================================================================================