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Angst, MSR.

Beach

by Shalimar

shalimar@earthling.net

5/1/98

Rated: R for profanity

Summary:    Scully & Mulder's thoughts, post Emily

Disclaimer: Like, O Tubular One?  Can't we buy stock in this totally

rad franchise so we can stop with the disclaimers already? 

Special Thanks: To Amanda and Becky.... Beta-trix Goddesses

Beach

by Shalimar

copyright 1998

The chill salt wind whipped her hair around her face.  A strand hit her

in the eye, stinging it and making it tear.  She blinked hard, but real

tears wouldn't come.

She wanted to cry.  

She wanted the tears to just well over.  Now, when there was no one

here to see her but a few seabirds.  All day long she'd been on the

verge, but she'd held back. 

So why couldn't she stand here alone at the edge of the sea and just let

the tears come?

But they wouldn't.

It had been a long miserable day.   First the unrelenting rain, then the

funeral and Emily's body gone from the casket.

Back at the house her Mom and Tara looking guilty but unable to help

themselves from oohing over the baby ... Mulder and Bill circling each

other like wary dogs ... and everyone treating her with kid gloves, as if

at any moment she might break.  

And her pretending--she didn't know what the hell she'd been

pretending and she was sick of pretending it.

So she'd escaped.

So now here she was on the beach watching the tumultuous waves of

an El Nino-roused Pacific under a sky heavy with glowering grey

clouds. 

Really, the whole scene reflected her mood perfectly.

She'd hoped the sight of the ocean would make her chest clench and

her throat fill with tears--the way it always used to--and give her

solace.  Solace.  She stared stonily out at the gray water. Today it

wasn't giving anything up.

Why was her life turning out like this?  Everything was all wrong.

It wasn't fair.   In the few seconds it had taken her to accept this little

girl was hers, she'd wanted her with every fiber of her being.  To be

happy and healthy and be a normal little girl with a normal life ... but

a normal life meant a normal mother.  She was hardly that.  She might

have been once, but life with Mulder had stripped her of that.

God the wind was blowing.  It was snatching away her breath before

she could breath.  Her lungs were aching.

Why couldn't she cry?

Why the hell could she have a normal life--like Tara?  She was

beginning to think Bill was right.  

Why couldn't *she* have happiness?

Emily....  

She'd held a vision close in those days and nights in the hospital. 

Mother and daughter.  Happy, laughing, warm sunlit days, picnics at

the beach, playing in the sand together.  Splashing in a gentle ocean....

She stuffed her hands into her pockets and hunched her shoulders

against the mean bite of the wind.  It was fucking freezing out here. 

She didn't even care.  Maybe instead of crying she could freeze solid,

so she didn't have to feel any of this.

She didn't want to feel anything about Emily. 

Or anything about Mulder.  

He probably had washed his hands of her and her family by now and

was on a plane back to Washington.

Good.

She didn't want to think about him.  She stared hard at the seething

grey waves trying to think about anything but him.  About how sweet

he'd been after the cancer.  About how easy it had suddenly been to

slip into a camaraderie they'd never had before.  Joking with him just

enough to be rewarded with his rare genuine smiles.  Even holding him

all night long.  It had been the most natural thing in the world to pull

him into her arms. 

And she couldn't get that song out of her head.  Damn it, she wouldn't

start humming it again.  She wouldn't.  

She narrowed her eyes and stared far out at the gulls wheeling behind

a fishing boat coming in.   Fish, she thought, a deck full of big stinky,

slimy fish, and a bunch of big laughing fishermen, singing whatever the

hell big laughing fishermen sang.   Not Cher.  Smelling like fish, done

with their day and going home to their wives ... and their families ...

and their babies....

And that's what it all came back to.  The fact that she'd spent quite a

bit of mental effort keeping Mulder out of her own daydreams of a

family.  She'd very carefully made sure he wasn't there....

She hadn't slept that whole night in the woods.

She'd spent it thinking about the man she held, about their time

together.  Her job, her priorities, her relationships.   Since the cancer

everything had been different.  She'd been rethinking everything. 

Moments were never more poignant.  The air was clearer.  The wind

was fresher.  The feel of her cotton turtleneck against her skin was soft

and comforting.  And Mulder was dearer to her.

She knew she was dearer to him, too.

Every look he gave held an underlying quality--a something--a there-

ness that it hadn't held before.

Before he hadn't always been quite paying attention to her.

Now every time she looked into his eyes she saw it.  That alertness,

attentiveness, searching her face, her eyes, searching for what?  Signs

of her weakness?  Signs of her returning strength?

But since he'd come to San Diego, everything had changed.

God, she was suddenly exhausted--she wasn't sure she could deal with

any of this any more.  She'd tried so hard to suddenly be okay again

after the cancer went into remission.  Too hard to prove to everyone

that she was fine, oh yes of course, Dana was fine, she licked that

cancer just like that, you'd never know she even had it, oh yes, Scully

was fine ... she was a great sport, she was even fun.  She was back on

the job--back on her quest for the little grey guys, the dependable

sidekick.

But she wasn't.  She was wiped out.  Emotionally she was completely

exhausted.  And now this business had done her in.  

As for Mulder, she decided maybe she didn't have time to be Donna

Quixote and have a daughter, too.  So she'd chosen the daughter.  But

that had only been after she found out about the eggs.

And now she didn't have that daughter.   And there was no sunny

picnic on the beach, only dark skies and a lonely ocean.

A wisp of hair caught her eye again, stinging it again.  Angrily she

pushed it away--and started to cry.  Finally, silently and hard.  Why

hadn't he told her about her eggs, damn him.  Damn it.  She hated that

he'd lied to her.  She hated that after all they'd been through together

he was still lying to her.

Who knew what else he'd lied to her about....

God, she was so tired she couldn't move.

The tears rolled down her face and made her cheeks stiff as the wind

dried them.  She really had nothing.  Nothing to show for all these

years with Mulder except an empty womb and an empty beach ... and

an empty future.

She lost doubly.  Mulder and Emily.  

A wave splashed over her feet, soaking her sneakers, the tide was

creeping in.

How can losing someone that she hadn't even known existed hurt this

much?

Another wave slammed over her feet, soaking her to the knees.  The

ocean wasn't cold after all ... it was warm, it pulled at her feet, sucking

on them.  She was so tired.  It would be so easy.  She could just let go

....

"Scully?"

She jumped.  God, how had he found her?  

Another wave washed over her sneakers.  The water felt icy now.  She

staggered slightly in the soft wet sand.  Mulder swore and reached out

to grab her.  He was in the water up to the ankles too.  He yanked her

back and marched her up the slope of the beach until they were safely

out of reach of the surf.

"Scully," his voice was anxious, a frantic note in it that she didn't want

to hear. "What the hell are you doing?"

She couldn't look at him.  She shrugged off his hand and turned and

stared back out at the frenzied sea.

"Go away, Mulder.  I need to be alone right now," she said in a frozen

little voice.

He didn't answer, but he didn't go away either.  She knew without

turning he was still there, standing silently--watching her.

She was beginning to shiver.   Her wet feet were freezing.  She jumped

as his hands suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders.  For a moment she

thought he was going to shake her--hard.  God, she'd welcome it.  She

closed her eyes and wished he'd shake her til her teeth hurt.

Instead his fingers dug painfully into her shoulders and he pulled her

backwards towards him.  Suddenly she was engulfed in his jacket.  

"No." she said stubbornly.

"Yes," he said, his breath hot on her cold ear.

She shut her eyes and willed herself not to melt backwards into his

heat.

He pulled the front of his jacket around her and wrapped both arms

around her, holding her close against him.  She knew he could feel the

tremors running through her body.   She could feel his heart thudding

against her back.  He'd really been scared.  

She stood as stiffly as she could and stared through tearblurred eyes at

the seething sea.  She felt the tears start streaming even faster, if that

were possible, as her throat choked up, filled, it seemed with

everything that was gone.  

Emily....  

Her trust in Mulder.  

Her easy assumption of a future working with him.

All of it gone.

Two weeks ago snuggling up close to him would have meant something

to her.  Something happy, something promising.  Not any more.  He

could hold her all he wanted but....

Everything had changed.

Everything.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When he climbed over the top of the sand berm to see her solitary

figure, small and alone down at the very edge of the turbulent water,

he stopped, unsure he had any right to break her solitude.

So he sat down on the damp sand on the top of the berm and watched

her and waited as she stood, absolutely motionless, and stared out to

sea for a long long time.

Waves crashed, gusts of wind snatched their tops as they broke and

hurled white spray into the air.  Gulls reeled and screeched as the wind

blew them in mad circles.  Her figure was the only point of stillness in

the whole scene.  

But not her hair--it whirled around her head like orange wisps of

frenzied flame.

It startled him when the first wave broke suddenly over her feet and

she didn't so much as flinch.

He was terrified when it happened again and she didn't move back,

just stood there like she didn't even feel the wave as it soaked her to the

knees.

He was dragging her back from the surf before he knew he was

moving.

He didn't remember her ever being like this before.

He didn't know what to do.

While Emily was sinking fast, all he could do was stay back and watch

her, trying to figure out what was going on behind her expressionless

face.

Maybe she hadn't wanted him to think she expected anything from him

in the way of responsibility.

They'd been getting close, very close since the cancer.  Maybe this was

her way of saying, You're free, Mulder.  This burden is not your

burden.

He didn't know why he hadn't quite been able to tell her he felt like

Emily was as much his as she was hers.

Hell, when the doctor asked if they were the parents he'd almost

opened his mouth and said "yes".

Part of them both.  

It annoyed him Scully hadn't felt that way, too.

On the flight out he'd felt a hundred different feelings. But the

thoughts tumbling through his mind never once spelled out an actual

little human being.

Nothing had prepared him for the sight of the child.

From the moment he'd seen Emily playing on the floor with Scully--

he'd felt the tug at his heart.  No, more like a yank.  Sudden visions of a

home and a family had flashed through his head--something he'd

always thought might happen somewhere far down the line--and then

suddenly here it was sitting on the floor in front of him.

He wanted to rush to her to assure her everything would be all right. 

He wanted to rush off to Washington to buy a house in the burbs and

then rush back to present it to her on a platter.

He wanted to rush over and wrap his arms around them both.

Instead he'd grinned at her sheepishly and wondered where the hell his

grandmother's engagement ring was.

But her stillness had stopped him cold and made him still too.

And it drove him crazy that she hadn't called him sooner.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Mom, it's Fox."

"Fox!  Happy New Year, darling."

Jesus, it *was* the new year. 

"Happy New Years, Mom. I need you to do me a favor."

"What.  Fox?"

"Where's Nana's ring?  Is it in the safe deposit box?"

Silence.  

Then,  "Fox!  Are you going to tell me who!?"

"I--  I--  not yet, Mom--what if she says no?"

"You never even said you were seeing someone.  Of course she'll say

yes."

His mom's voice was warm, warmer than it had been in a long time.

"I hope so."

"So you're not going to tell me who it is?"

"If she says yes, Mom, you'll be the first to know.  Is it at the bank?"

"Yes.  Are you driving up to get it?"

"No Mom, I'm in San Diego. Can you Fed Ex it?"

"San Diego!?  What are you doing there?"

"It's a long story, Mom.  I'm staying at Scully's brother's house."

"Scully's brother?"  

Pause.  

"Okay, Fox, I've got a pen.  What's the address?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He felt the jewelry case burning a hole in his pocket.  His mother'd sent

the pearl and ruby ring which had belonged to his father's mother and

the necklace his grandfather'd had made to match.

But now, without Emily, he didn't think he could do it.  There was no

need to ask.  Because the one reason she might have said yes was taken

away.

She cared about him, he knew that.  Cared a great deal.  But he

wouldn't kid himself that it meant anything more than that.

He rocked her slightly in his arms....  Dipping his head he gently

touched his cheek to her hair.  She was relaxing against him, even

though she didn't want to.  He could feel it.

She continued to stare out to sea and he stared out too, what was she

seeing out there?  All he saw was cold, angry waves.

The sun had dropped below the overcast sky at the far edge of the

horizon.  It suddenly lit the edges of the clouds with a band of gold.  It

dropped lower and threw into stark relief the purple shadows of the

clouds, gilding their undersides a brilliant red gold.

His mind went back to the other fetus in the incubator with Scully's

name on it.  He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.  It would be

born and end up out there somewhere--being raised by ... someone.

It had been how old?  Six?  Seven months....  He doubted they'd

destroyed it.  In a couple months he'd get Frohike to check the birth

records, though by then the trail would be covered, the birth mother's

name changed....

Should he tell her?

If the FBI's plan to get the DNA of everyone in the United States on

record were already enacted ... if DNA were registered now at birth

he'd have no trouble tracking down the child.  Maybe in a few years....

If the child lived that long.  

Or if there were others....

The sun disappeared below the horizon, but the undersides of the

clouds remained lit.  Gilt, red, purple....

For one eerie moment it looked like heaven.

He shivered and pulled her closer.

The gulls were gone.  A group of pelicans rushed by on silent wings--

heading home.

Suddenly she turned in his arms and buried her face against his chest. 

Her arms snaked around his back beneath his jacket.  He tried not to

flinch when her icy hands crept under his sweatshirt and flattened

themselves against the warm skin of his back.

He couldn't give her the ring.  She'd look at him with that worried

pitying look she reserved only for him and tell him he must be joking. 

But maybe he'd give her the necklace, maybe she'd let him.

She'd probably pull away from him in a few moments.  But for right

now he had her in his arms, and he was content just to hold her there. 

He tightened his arms around her and warmed his cold lips in her

hair....

Rocking them both gently, he watched the ocean darken...purple to

gray and the sky fade to night.

fin

shalimar@earthling.net