From: macspooky@erols.com (Macspooky)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Generations:Macspooky, Reflections 1
Date: 27 Nov 1995 17:13:56 -0500


Hi.  I'm back after a lot of downtime due to a dysfunctional
computer.  Good old "Krycek" is up and running for the
time being, though I am still have fantasies of buying a
MacPerforma6220CD.  Ah, well. Life is tough.  Anyway,
here is a story set right after Margaret's wedding to Skinner
in my "Generations" series to fill in the gaps while Juliettt
and I get our acts together to write our next installment.  It's
rated R for Romance and some adult content.  It is a two
parter, and I wrote it on September 21, 1995.  All the
characters still belong to CC, 1013, Fox, etc.  I really don't
want to violate any copyrights, but borrowing is so much
fun!  Still have no money guys, or I'd spend it on the Mac
Computer and you could sue me for that!   I hope you all
enjoy!



Reflections on a Rainy June Morning

by

Macspooky                                                             

     Fox Mulder woke up slowly, reluctantly, from a deep and restful
sleep.  He was lying half on his side with his wife curled up in his
arms.  He thought drowsily that they had a wonderful queen size bed
and they could have managed with a twin, so close did they tend to
cling together at night.  Though neither had ever spoken of it, each
knew that was the only time they felt safe, however illusionary it may
have been.  It was only when they were curled protectively in each
others arms that they truly felt secure.  They had seen, had been
through too much, for it to have been any other way. He became aware
that it was raining heavily.  The falling water made a pleasant
drumming sound against the window pane.  Dana had put clean sheets on
the bed the day before and they felt soft and comfortable smelling of
the lavender scented fabric softener she favored.  All in all, at that
moment life felt pleasant.  She stirred in his arms and made a soft
contented sound, and then he felt her deep regular breathing once
again.

     The night before had been wonderful.  Her time of the month had
finally ended.  Those days were always difficult for him because he
couldn't make love to her then.  Sometimes he found himself resenting
it, and then felt a little guilty about it.  They were harder on her.
Each time her period started it meant that she had once again failed
to conceive the baby she so longed for, and there was nothing he could
say to make it better for her.  Without telling her, he had even gone
to the doctor to be tested.  He was fine.  He didn't want her to know,
because then she would worry even more that something was wrong with
her.  He had almost hoped the problem lay with him.  As much as he
would have liked a child, if they never had one, that would have been
alright with him too.  As long as he had Dana, he was content.  He
would never tell her this, of course, at least not now.  She would
interpret that to mean that he didn't really want a baby, that he was
only doing it for her, and that would break her heart.  Yes, he felt
guilty even in his mild resentment of those days when he couldn't make
love to her.  In the past he had had long periods of celibacy
stretching over months, not just days, during which time he would lay
on his couch and watch adult videos and dream of what it would be like
not to be lonely, not to be always alone.  When the tension grew
unbearable, he would pick up a woman in a bar, have a wild one night
stand, do crazy foolish things.  After all, he had received his
initial training from Phoebe Greene.  He hadn't known the meaning of
not wild.  All attempts at steady relationships failed.  As soon as
they found out what he was really like, how obsessed he was with his
work, his sister, women fled, afraid, all but one, all but Dana. Dana
had never, ever left him.  When Mr.  Bruckman had teased him about the
way he might die, Dana had been silent, but after the man had passed
away, an event she had taken rather hard, she had approached him
quietly and non judgementally.  He remembered.  She had asked him if
she could come in for a cup of coffee, and he had agreed reluctantly.
His apartment, as always, had been a mess. His mind faded to that
scene.  She had sat at his table, with the little dog she had named
Psychic and had ultimately given to her sister in her lap, stroking
the animal's soft fur.  Fox remembered a tinge of jealousy, wishing he
could be that dog, have someone, have her, touch him like that.  He
had pushed those thoughts away quickly at the time.

     "F......Mulder," she had begun quietly, "You and I.....we've been
through a lot together."
     "Yes," he replied softly. "Too much."
     "I....well,.....I am a doctor......"  She had seemed a little
hesitant and sipped the brew.
     "For which I am eternally grateful, Scully."  He had looked at
her remembering New Mexico and the brief hug she had given him in the
elevator after his return, how she had still been shaking from her
encounter with Skinner, but how she had withdrawn from him quickly,
embarrassed that she had displayed weakness and fearing that she had
overstepped the bounds of their professional relationship. Scully
didn't like to appear human, or so it seemed sometimes.
     "What Mr. Bruckner..... I like to think there is nothing we can't
talk about....I mean, what you do is none of my business,
Mulder......"
     "True," he replied wondering where this was leading.  He
suspected it wasn't going to be in a direction that he liked or wanted
to talk about with her.  He was embarrassed that she had found out
about his taste in adult videos.
     "You don't.....you wouldn't try anything like that would you?"
     Well, he hadn't been able to pretend that he hadn't known what
she was talking about.  He had lowered his head.  He'd tried a lot of
crazy stuff in the past.  Heck, look what he had done with Kristen. He
hadn't cared.  He hadn't cared then if he had died.  Then, Scully had
come back, and suddenly it had mattered again whether or not he had
AIDS, and it had been a long six months of constant secret testing
before he had finally been satisfied that he hadn't committed a form
of slow painful suicide.
     "Fox, it's very dangerous......please, please, please don't do
anything like that again.....please...I mean, if you ever have....She
knew he had.  She knew he had a wild sometimes dark past, that he had
done things that she would find appalling.  She didn't care.  He was
her friend, her partner. Dana had grabbed his hand tightly across the
table, and then realizing that she had called him by his first name
released it and blushed.  "I'm sorry, Mulder.  It really is none of my
business.....only I'd hate to lose you again....like that....."
     She had not judged him.  She had only worried about him. They had
never spoken of it again.  He had never again tried anything else so
stupid or dangerous.

     It had been raining the night he had failed to perform so
dismally with Justine.  The rain hadn't sounded so nice then, not like
this morning.  It had brought no peace or security.  She had been a
beautiful woman, and he had honestly liked her.  He hadn't rushed
things.  He had wanted things to be just right this time.  He had
wanted things to work.  He hoped that something would come of the
relationship.  Instead she had grown angry with him, infuriated that
he couldn't do what she wanted him to do.  Justine had not understood.
He had done things for her that he had never bothered to do for Dana,
brought her flowers, surprised her with candy.....She had left his
apartment after saying some terrible things to him.  Worse, he hadn't
cared. He hadn't wanted to acknowledge the fact that she was not who
he really wanted, but he hadn't cared when she had left either.
     Dana stirred in his arms once again and Fox was torn between
wanting his wife to wake up, and the pleasure he was taking in holding
her sleeping form with its delicate bone structure and round
comfortable curves.  He kissed her head gently.  Her hair, as always,
smelled pretty and felt like silk against his lips. He had always
loved her hair, even the first time he had met her when he had thought
her so plain.  He had thought, "Well, at least she has pretty hair."
Dana....sweet Dana, his little twerp, who had stood in the cold
pouring rain in Oregon laughing hysterically next to the empty grave
of an abductee.  Is that when he had started loving her, or had it
been when she had come to his room like a frightened little girl, half
convinced that mosquito bites were alien marks of some kind?  It had
been her first field assignment.  He wondered how he could have been
so mean to her during that case, her first case.  She had learned
quickly from the experience.  It had been a long time, until Donny
Pfaster in fact, that she had let herself appear vulnerable in front
of him again, and that was only after she had been pushed beyond the
limit of human endurance. Maybe he had started loving her when her
father had died and he had touched her cheek, or had it been that
night he had sat in the car watching, waiting for Eugene Tooms to do
something, and she had slid in next to him and teased him about the
way the car smelled.  He had watched too long without a shower.
     "Fox, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you."
Words spoken reluctantly after careful consideration.  What an ass he
had been!  "Scully, I even asked my parents to call me Mulder." He had
laughed at her. He had been pushing her away. He wondered how badly
that had hurt her.
     After Justine had left that fateful night, he had actually fallen
asleep.  He had grown suddenly despondent upon waking, however.  He
had never told anyone, but that morning, he had put his gun to his
head, not because he cared about the woman, but because he had been
tired of being alone, tired of the pain, tired of the fruitless search
and the grief, sick of the unanswered questions, angry with himself
for having placed his partner in so much danger.  It had washed over
him in a horrible black tidal wave, suddenly and with such great force
he had been unable to resist.  The phone had rang.  He nearly hadn't
answered it, but in the end, he had picked it up fearing that it might
be Scully, and that she might be in trouble as she had been the night
Duane Berry had taken her from him, the night he hadn't been home.
     "Fox, this is Margaret.  I have an extra ticket to the Irish Folk
Festival.  Oh, please come.  It would be a favor to me."  He had put
his gun away, the prospect of spending the day with Dana lifting the
blackness at least momentarily.  He wondered if somehow Margaret had
known with her strange dreams, and Irish feyness.

     "Marry me, Scully, and I'll show you how afraid I am of bodily
fluids."  Fox Mulder, ever the wise guy, always cracking a joke.  That
would be the day that anyone was foolish enough to marry him. He'd die
as he had lived......alone.  That would be the day he would ever
marry.  If he didn't blow his brains out one day, there was always Sam
to look for.  He recalled blue eyes looking at him quietly, silently
for a seeming eternity as he waited for an answering barb, one that
matched the spitting baby she had inflicted on him that afternoon, the
little one that looked just like her.
     "Okay."                                 
     Dana had simply said. "Okay."
     Sitting at her kitchen table drinking coffee.
     "I love you, Fox."
     "I love you, Dana."
     What a release those words had been.  "I love you, Dana."  It had
been like good sex, or like what he thought good sex was up until
then, better almost, to finally say what he had been denying to
himself, or trying to.  Suddenly, he hadn't cared about what had
happened the night before, or anything else for that matter.  For a
moment, he hadn't even cared about Samantha.  They had walked to the
door....and that kiss, that first kiss, his lips touching hers, the
feel of her in his arms.....He had gone home to his dark messy
apartment that night a happy man.
     Again, she stirred beside him and he knew soon she would be
awake.  It was raining harder than ever outside....so nice to have
nowhere to go, nothing to do but lay here in the comfortable bed
beside the woman he loved.  Yes, he knew she would wake up soon as
certainly as he now knew every freckle on her small body, or just
where she liked to be touched, or when she was going to melt during
their lovemaking as she had the night before.  He hadn't known what
good sex was like until he had married her in that crazy ceremony in
that hospital room and made love to her that night.  He hadn't truly
believed that there was a difference between the physical release, and
the total joining of two deeply committed people.  The first time he
had made love to Dana was probably the tamest sex he had ever had.
She had proved to be inexperienced, a little shy,
sweet....wonderful....perfect...loving, warm. Knowing his past, she
had trusted him totally in even this, the most intimate of acts,
trusted that he would not hurt her, that he would respect her and care
for her.  He was grateful for his eidetic memory.  He would never
forget that night, the night he had learned what physical love really
was and should be.
     
     Briefly he wondered what it must be like to be her, to be a
woman.  There were so many advantages to being a man, no worries about
unwanted pregnancy, no monthly cycles to concern him.  He had never
had endure sitting on a stakeout hour after hour suffering from cramps
as he knew she had done so often, never suffered the embarrassment of
having bled through your business suit during such a stake out, or
having to deal with it in the forest when your crazy partner decided
to go chasing after green bugs.  Yet, he felt a little cheated
sometimes.  He would join with her briefly, leave a part of himself
inside her, yet he would never know what it was like to have the woman
he loved so much in him.  She was right, had been right on that first
night, their wedding night, when she had told him that for him it was
over, but for her, well, there was a part of him remaining inside
her. He would never, ever know that feeling. Sometimes he wondered
what he had missed in being born a man. Dana moved, slipping out of
his arms, and sat up, a little bleary eyed for a moment.
     "Morning, Wildman," she smiled thinking of the night before.
     "It's raining, Sweetheart," he said softly, "and I've been
lying here thinking about how much I love you."

     She gazed down at his face, her hair askew, his t-shirt, the one
she had worn to sleep falling half off her shoulder. His lips curved
up slightly as he thought of her comment the night before about how
she didn't know why she bothered to buy nightgowns as quickly as her
crazy Spook stripped them off her every night.  Her hand reached out
and touched his unshaven cheek gently.  Her face lit in a beautiful
smile, just like the one he had awakened to in Alaska when he had been
so injured and sick, a smile that indicated joy in life, in him.  He
was happy.  His sweet Dana was beside him on a rainy morning in
June. The only sound was that of water beating against glass.  Even
their monster parrot was quiet, the one he often suspected was a
government plant to ruin their happy marriage. He reached up and
pulled her down to him.  All was right with the world.  He was with
his beloved Dana..would be with her forever.

The end of part one

Thanks to RaEnright for giving me the idea of the parrot
being a government plant.  Just about laughed my socks off. 
Thanks to Juliettt and Nancy for reading this and
commenting.