untitled
'SAWS,
SANDERS AND SPECTRES'
By: Erin M.
Blair, Mae'chii', XSketch & Pattie
J. EDGAR HOOVER
BUILDING,
WASHINGTON, DC
OFFICE OF THE X-FILES
The office was quiet for a Friday afternoon. It was three and the
phone hadn't bothered the agents since ten. There was really
nothing left to do in the basement office but think of things to
do.
Mulder finally broke the long-held silence with a stretch and a
yawn.
"Somebody miss his nappy time?" Scully chuckled, with
an 'I'm only kidding' smile.
Mulder leaned back in his chair. "No, no. I'm just biding my
time until we either get an assignment or the Gunmen send me
another National Inquisitor piece. Say, Scully... how about a
trip up to Greenwich?"
"Your mother's house? Why... "
"Before I sell it, I want to do some updates. You know, the
cupboards, countertops need replacing, new fixtures for the
bathroom... I have the money set aside, and I just
figured..."
"You'd ask your little buddy here to help carry your
powertools? Mulder, I think we'd be like Alf and Ralph doing a
make-over of your mother's house. I think I'll pass and do some
research."
"Well, you know, there's a lot to be said for helping out a
friend. Never mind. I'll ask Frohike..."
"Frohike?" Her smile was almost broader than Mulder's
desk. "All right, Alf. Let's see if we can punch out early
and get the powertools. I never thought I'd be doing renovations
with my fellow X-File inmate." She grabbed her coat and
purse. "Well?"
"Yeah... I'm just surprised you'd trust me with your life
around powertools." Mulder closed his laptop and donned his
jacket. "I just knew you'd help."
Scully paused in the doorway. "Well, I am your personal
physician."
"I know you're my personal doctor, Scully," Mulder
said. "I'm not that much an expert on powertools. In fact, I
only build a few things in the past with a kit with
instructions."
"You're lucky that I know a few things about building. My
brothers and I build a club house once in the backyard."
"But that doesn't make you an expert at handling them,
Scully."
"Mulder, sometimes you just have to put the instructions and
the kits away, and get creative," she countered.
"Okay, let's get going, then." Mulder was beginning to
feel a bit in the dark about the world of cabinet making.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The drive to Greenwich was uneventful. It was perfect weather for
a few days of renovating: neither very hot nor unpleasantly cool.
The skies were expected to be clear for three days straight.
After having put their personal belongings in the house, Mulder
and Scully were off to the lumber yard.
Scully caressed some of the assorted veneered panelling.
"What are you doing, Scully?"
"Well, Mulder, I'm looking for durability, the pattern of
the mock grain, and value. You also have real pine to choose from
over at the end, there. Natural grain differs a lot from the...
the fake wood. Trust me, Mulder, go with the natural."
"I wish we could have bought a kit at Target, Scully. They
had a sale of hammers in the paper," Mulder whined. "I
know nothing of lumber."
"Mulder, it's going to be OK. We will get the natural wood.
Your mother would love it if the cabinets came from scratch and
not from a kit at Target!"
Mulder bit his lip, his hands on his hips. These brief periods of
silence always worried Scully, as she remembered this posture and
pacing was his way of rallying for an argument.
The no-nonsense approach lit her fire very nicely.
"Mulderrr... what's going on in that head of yours?"
"Scully, this was my mother's house. Got that!? If I want a
kit from Target, and there are, may I inform you, many worthwhile
cabinet kits to choose from, I will get a kit. Even Bob Vila
would see that I would be making the right choice, seeing as I'm
not a hands-on person!" There, take that, Miss Prissy.
Mulder's diatribe didn't move Scully from her original opinion.
"Mulder, Bob Vila would recommend you get advice from
someone who knows that "real wood", and the effort put
into building your own customized cabinets, is well worth the
effort. And I just happen to know my way around materials and
tools. A kit from Target? That's not very original, not creative,
and certainly while convenient I suppose, the lazy way out!"
She took her partner by the shoulders, spinning him around to
face here. "Now, look at me, Mulder: Target kits are great
for people who want a pre-designed, everything at the ready
project. I am going to walk you through the real thing. Wood,
hammer, nails, measurement and even handles. We're going to do
this together. Remember, some day you may just want to settle
down here."
Mulder gave Scully's words some thought, and she granted him that
right. "Something tells me I'm going to regret the
"hands-on" method, Scully."
"We'll see, Mulder. Now, I estimated the amount of wood,
quantity of nails, wood glue, hinges, countertop types, even
knobs and drawer pulls, as well as varnish... "
Mulder admitted to himself that he liked a strong, confident
woman. Scully was all that, and more. He smiled and nodded as she
recited her list, marvelling that this petite woman could not
only save lives, but remodel a dated kitchen.
"...and of course, we'll also need to rent a table saw,
mitre blocks, and a level can be purchased along with the other
small items. Ready to start the adventure Mulder?" Scully
waved her hands past his eyes.
"Oh, sure. Sorry, I was off somewhere else for a
minute."
"You weren't listening..."
"Yes, I was. I was just admiring certain personality traits
in a friend. Let's get started."
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THREE HOURS LATER
With a still-reluctant Mulder in tow, Scully had carried out a
thorough reconnaissance expedition of the house on their return
with the lumber, turning up most of the tools on her list except
a hand-saw and small wood chisel, so she'd had to coerce her
partner into driving them to the nearest tool store.
"Just one more trip, Mulder, and then we can get this
started." There had been a pause as she flirtatiously
stepped up close with car keys in hand. "The quicker we get
it done, the sooner we can... relax."
Now, with everything needed laid out at their feet and dust
sheets covering the nearby furniture, the partners prepared to
finally get started on the challenge.
Mulder and Scully were clad in worn jeans that were almost too
soft to be actually called denim of any sort. but they were
expendable. Mulder had one of his favorite old tee shirts, with a
long-faded Adidas logo, while Scully wore a used-to-be-white tee
shirt underneath a flannel checked shirt.
With everything at the ready, the brave workers were ready to
face the job.
Scully had piled sheets of ply wood alongside a hobby horse,
ready to cut the cupboard panels. First though, there was the
framework to consider.
So, with specifications listed on a sheet of paper, she and
Mulder marked out several pieces of wood to begin the
festivities.
"Ever think you might want to go into construction,
Scully?"
Scully thought the idea idiotic. "Uh, no, Mulder. I'm not
THAT interested in doing this for a living. Construction workers
do seem to be in demand lately, though. How about you? Have you
ever wanted to do something other than fighting crime?"
Gee, he was just about to start up the table saw. "Well, no.
Me a construction worker? Heck, it's a wonder I can unclog the
bathroom sink. I bought my first wrench after the super stopped
coming to my place. Said something about bad vibes."
Scully laughed. "Before you start that, Mulder, you should
put on the safety glasses. Okay, we've got the number of 3-foots,
the number of shelves worked out and that wood marked. Buzz
away."
Mulder was handling the wood to bring over to Scully who was
sawing the pieces to make the doors for the cabinet. In the
process of handing them to her, a tiny piece of wood gave
burrowed through his skin. "Ouch!"
He withered in pain, biting his lip, as he was never used to this
kind of injury before.
"Let me see your hand, Mulder," Scully said. She looked
over at the tiny sliver of wood which was deep into his skin.
"It's just a splinter."
"It's just a splinter?" Mulder repeated. "Get that
thing out of me, Scully!"
Scully took Mulder into the house and hunted for rubbing alcohol,
cotton balls and a pair of tweezers. She did pack her tweezers!
Quickly, she dipped the tweezers in the alcohol, then pulled the
offending object from Mulder's finger.
"Ahh! I kind of wish you'd left it in, Scully!"
"Well, this is going to sting a bit, so keep still. I'll
just clean the site with alcohol, and here's the bandaid. Agent
Mulder, congratulations. You'll live. Honest to God, you've been
through almost every indignity, fracture and other injuries too
numerous to list, and you do the girly cry over a splinter!"
"Well, I guess I over-reacted. A little."
"Well, if you did more with your hands than just wrote
reports and slugged Krycek, your hand's wouldn't be so soft. You
need some callused skin. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to
get the framework nailed into the kitchen wall. That way, we can
sand and varnish the doors and have them dry by tomorrow, ready
for hanging."
Mulder nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it is getting kind of
late."
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4:00 pm
They were ready. Finally, the sawing was a success, and the
framework was up in the old house. Scully swallowed the last of
her bottled water and Mulder did the same.
"Ready to go, partner?"
"Sure, Scully. I'll just open the can of varnish and we'll
have shiny cupboards by tomorrow!"
"Yes, um, there's something that needs attention
first."
"Such as?"
Scully picked up an electrical device.
"What?"
"Mulder, this is a rotary sander. We need to sand the door
and the edges of them so you won't be attacked again by the nasty
splinters. When the wood is finely sanded and smooth, THEN we
apply the varnish." She smiled as she plugged the power tool
into an outdoor outlet.
"Rotary sander..." Mulder echoed.
"Yes, Mulder. Rotary Sander. A fine grained sandpaper works
best for this job, and then you can varnish till you're higher
than a kite. Here. Put this in that hand, that's right."
"Switch it on and start sanding, I know. Did I ever tell you
I saw 'Batteries Not Included'? It was about... "
"I know," Scully tried unsuccessfully to stifle a
laugh. "I know what it was about, but I don't think little
appliances will be affected by those little creatures."
Mulder held the sander up for inspection. "Better put
goggles on. huh? All right, here goes nothin' " Mulder put
the sander to the wood and pressed the 'on' switch, moving around
in circles like he had been doing this all his life. However, he
held his left hand a bit too close to the sander while holding
the wooden door, and abraded his hand severely down from the
pinky finger to the wrist.
Scully quickly switched off the sander and took a look at
Mulder's hand, shaking her head in silence. "Okay, we may as
well call it a day. After I bandage up that hand, we'll put
everything away and start over tomorrow. May as well order
dinner."
"Well dammit, Scully. The thing... just... whatever happened
to good-old hand-sanding?"
Scully groaned at his pun and playfully swatted at his arm.
"It's not funny, Mulder. Why is it, no matter what you come
into contact with you always have to injure yourself in some way
or another?"
"I didn't think it was funny - I'm the one standing here
with the side of my hand partially skinned!" he pouted,
stung by her words. "Besides, I don't get hurt on
purpose...I know you do a good job of patching me back up again,
but honestly, Scully, if-"
"'If the world was on your side, you wouldn't be injured so
often'?" Obligatory raised eyebrow appeared, and she stared
him square in the eye until he gave a single nod of his head.
"Oh, please, Mulder." Her head turned away as it shook
in dismissal. "The chance of a day going by without you so
much as getting even a paper cut would be a miracle." With a
gentle tug, she led him in the direction of the bathroom.
"Your reluctance to not do this was frustrating, but maybe I
should have known..." Yet another low sigh from her and she
stopped walking - turning to sheepishly look up at her partner's
worried face. "I'm sorry." The apology was quiet, but
genuine. "It's been a long day, I'm tired, hungry and...and
I don't like seeing you injured."
Mulder nodded, using his other hand to tenderly push an errant
strand of hair behind her ear. "I know. I'm sorry." The
pain in the side of his injured hand flared up and he winced -
his eyes flicking down to look at it briefly before meeting her
stare again. "Come on, patch me up, G-Woman, and then you
can feed me."
"At least this way we can save your passing out from
inhalation of any fumes from the tools until tomorrow!" She
had tried to be grouchy, but the effect failed and they both
ended up smiling.
"Never give up on a miracle, Scully - that day may be right
around the corner!"
"In your dreams!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bright and early the following morning, Mulder and Scully set the
cupboard doors out to prepare them for hanging.
Scully was wielding a device as Mulder leaned the last door
against the backyard fence. "Okay, Mulder. Please pay close
attention to what you're doing. Make the home reno companies
jealous."
"Scully, I doubt I'd make even Maxwell Smart jealous. Right
now, he's not a screw-up compared to me."
"Mulder, that was a TV show! Now, more and more men and
women are discovering a lost art: taking care of one's own
repairs--instead of calling a renovator and paying through the
nose."
"Or the hand or the finger." He held up his left hand.
"I have earned my badges. What do you want with that drill,
if you don't mind me asking?"
"Well," Scully said in a soft, sultry voice, "I
marked out the holes through which the handles and their backings
will be, and all you have to do is drill a hole through each
cabinet door. You can impress me, Mulder!" She eyed the
doors and turned three of them around. "Some of them are
going to open from the left, Mulder."
"Ah, yes. Sorry. Okay." Mulder took the drill and
plugged it into an extension cord that ran to the house.
"You sure this is the right drill bit, Scully?"
"I did my background check, partner. It's definitely what we
need. Fits the profile."
"Yeah. Maybe I'll autopsy our budget for all this
later."
"Go ahead. Switch it on and drill."
Well, Mulder had the drill in his hand, and as he heard the
sudden blare of a stereo from the house next door, dropped the
drill on his right foot. He sat down and gripped his instep.
"God, Scullly! Damn, damn, damn... "
Scully knelt down to see a one centimeter wide gash in her
partner's instep. There was blood running from the wound.
"Blood, Mulder. We've got to get you to the hospital.
C'mon," she grunted, "I'll give you a hand. Take this
kerchief and apply pressure once I get you into the car. Mulder,
I don't think you're cut out for the handyman's job."
"Me neither, Scully. Let's just get me patched up before I
lose a gallon of blood..."
It was late in the afternoon when Mulder and Scully returned to
the house. Scully had situated him on the back patio under an
umbrella, drinking lemonade out of a plastic tumbler. "No
sense tempting fate," she'd laughingly said.
"You're not gonna do the whole thing yourself, are you
Scully? 'Cause, I can still use one hand and hop on one... "
Scully turned from the cabinet door, still propped against the
fence, holes all having been drilled, and with varnish at the
ready. "Mulder, if I hear one more word out of you, you'll
be hopping onto a bus straight to your dark little
apartment."
In mock horror, he slapped his good hand against his chest.
"Ouch! You certainly know how to cut me deep, Scully!"
"Whatever." Varnish and brush in hand, Scully eyed him
one more time before turning to do the task at hand. "This
is the easy part, anyway," she called over her shoulder.
"Well, for people without the inept ability to keep injuring
themselves, that is."
"Ha, ha. You wanna be careful what you say," he
smirked, taking another sip of his lemonade and secretly enjoying
the chance to sit back and watch her do all the work (well, it
was her fault after all...if she'd just let him get that kit from
Target...) "You never know, the condition might be
infectious!"
The sound of bristles slapping against wood slowed and then
abruptly stopped before she finally turned to glare at him -
hands on hips. "The `Mulder's Clumsiness Syndrome'? If such
an infection existed, Mulder, the world would be doomed - alien
invasion or not."
"Could be worth investigating...a real X-File."
Dana shook her head and sighed - a small smile lifting the
corners of her mouth. "Maybe. If we find such a case,
though, you do realize that I won't be able to feel as much pity
for you anymore? I mean, you won't be as special a case..."
That got him, and the smug smile quickly disappeared from his
face as he begun to regret he'd ever brought the idea up.
"Now, I told you, be quiet and let me get on with
this," she laughed out loud, "Or you really will be
ordered to go home." With one more smile at his expense, she
once again turned to finish the varnishing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With a practiced skill even she was proud of, all the parts for
the cupboard were varnished in no time, and were now outside
resting against the picket fence drying off. Having put the brush
into hot, soapy water to ready it for later cleaning, Scully now
sat at the patio table with her partner drinking iced tea.
"So, what's next?" Mulder queried, scratching at the
band-aid on his hand.
"When it's all dry, we have the fun part of putting it all
together...which I will need your help for, I hasten to
add."
"Oh, goody."
She reached out and smacked him on the forearm, making the ice in
his glass clink sharply. "And stop scratching that."
"Hey!" he protested with a mock scowl, drawing his arm
away from her short reach. "I'm an injured man here. No more
hitting, or I'll have to..." His eyes flicked around the
patio looking for a likely candidate to threaten her with.
She watched him from the corner of her eye, careful to keep the
smile off her face. She took a sip of her ice tea. "Or what,
G-man?"
"I'll think of something."
"Hmm, a lame threat, then?" When he didn't respond
after a moment, she looked over at him. He was absolutely still
and staring intently at some spot across the patio.
"Mulder?"
He blinked and murmured at her quietly. "Scully...do you see
what I see over there?"
She followed his gaze., but saw nothing unusual. "Over
where?"
"Something poking out of the dirt at the far corner of the
patio. It wasn't there before."
She looked again and saw...something. "Pff, Mulder, it's
probably just a mole hill."
"We were gone nearly all day with my plethora of injuries.
Somebody could have come in and placed it there, wanting to get
our attention."
She pursed her lips in annoyance. "Mulder, don't tell me you
are looking for an X-File."
"Ok," he smirked and started to rise to check it out.
"You're staying seated, Mulder."
Scully reached out to smack him again, but he cringed and drew
himself a safe distance from her, his lower lip sticking out.
"No more hitting. You are abusive, woman."
"Not half as abusive you are to yourself. Now sit."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder resigned himself to the fact that Scully was taking
charge. He had to admit, the painkillers he was taking were
inducing drowsiness, and his muscles were not obeying his mind,
so he leaned back in his patio chair.
"Okay. But be careful, and don't pull anything out unless
you dig around it. There may be something evidentiary to our
search, and we need anything we can get at this pint."
Scully bent over to examine the mysterious tip of something
sticking out from under the grass. "Could be a time capsule
you buried when you were a kid," she said and hoped.
"This looks to my like a handle to a steel box or old
lunchbox."
"I never... I never got into that sort of thing, Scully.
Maybe you should use a shovel."
Scully stood and stretched. "Good plan. Where..."
"In the basement."
Scully gave him a warning glare.
"Hey, I have my iced tea. Besides, I know what you're
perfectly capable of...really." The mock fright face was
never an expression he could quite perfect.
When Scully had carefully unearthed the object, a rectangular
box, hinged lid and handle rusted very badly, she carefully
placed t on the table in front of Mulder. "Well, I think
it's probably rusted shut, Mulder. There's a padlock on it, but
frankly... "
"Frankly, all we need is to coat the edge if the lid and the
hinges with linseed oil, then peel it open, Scully. Maybe it's
all that macaronic stuff I wrote back around the time Samantha
was abducted."
"Mulder, you wrote a theory?" Scully sat down all ears
for what she expected to be a long explanation.
"Not exactly. It was just a lot of things I had heard my
parents and their friends haggling over when they thought I was
out playing."
Scully laughed. "Somehow I just can't picture you as one who
played! It seems to me you were a stoic little kid, almost
emotionally shut down. Buttoned down for business."
"Well, I did play. With Sam... " Mulder had to cut
himself off before the tears that were threatening to flood his
face began to fall. "Linseed oil, in the basement beside the
old grey toolbox."
"You okay, Mulder?"
"Yeah. I don't think it's anything I could have written, and
if it was, Mom probably threw it out r burned it way back. Maybe
it's personal papers. Or pictures."
Scully put her hand on Mulder's right shoulder. "We'll find
out. By the way, where did you learn the word macaronic?"
"An old physics teacher I had."
"Smart man."
Scully was then off to the basement.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Thank God for my FBI training, otherwise I might never have
found it!" Scully exclaimed, stepping back out onto the
patio twenty-five minutes later with the Linseed oil can in hand.
"What happened? Don't tell me you forgot that you have to go
downstairs to get to the basement?" her partner smirked,
glancing over his shoulder and then following her movement toward
the table he sat at.
She frowned and sat down with a deep sigh. "It's not funny,
Mulder. Have you seen the amount of junk stored in that basement?
Finding the shovel right at the bottom of the stairs was one
thing, but you forgot to mention that the toolbox was on the
shelf at the back of the room! Honestly, with only the aid of my
flashlight, I'm lucky I made it out alive!"
Despite the amount of injuries he'd managed to collect just in
the process of trying to put together a cabinet, Mulder laughed
at her words - deducing that he had balanced the scales enough
for her to be clear of danger. Her exaggeration of the mess down
there didn't help her case any either. As the chuckle faded, he
watched apprehensively as his partner used the oil to open the
box as he'd instructed. "Moment of truth, eh?" What a
shame the painkillers couldn't ease his nerves as well...
Sensing his anxiety, Scully offered him a smile and then lifted
the folded papers from inside the box. At the bottom were two
reels of 8mm film. She ignored the tape for the meantime and
opened the papers to spread them across the table (being careful
not to knock over her half-empty glass of iced-tea). There were
two colorful drawings obviously done by a child, one school
report with 'Mulder, Fox W.' printed at the top, a Mulder family
photo taken before Samantha's abduction, and another sheet of
written paper that needed further inspection to be understood.
"No macaronic meanderings?" Mulder asked, staring at
her and secretly scratching at his hand again under the table as
he broke out in a sweat. There came no reply. "Scully?
Surely it can't be that interesting? And if it's some cheesy love
poem I wrote in some haze I don't remember, I will have to kill
you." Even his joke didn't register, and he watched as she
continued to read - her eyebrow occasionally raising and then
falling into a frown. "Don't make me guess!" Silence.
"Come on, don't hang out the wounded guys misery!"
The scrawled text came to an end, and Dana glanced up at him
before carefully folding the sheet and placing it in the pocket
of her slacks.
"Scu--"
"Later." Short and simple seemed the only option on
this one, and she sharply stared at him with arched brow to let
him know there was no point arguing - he wasn't going to change
her mind.
That didn't stop him from foolishly trying, though.
"Hey, if I wrote that, I think I have the right to know what
it is!" he whined, struggling to his feet and trying to move
on his one good leg round the table to her side. Thankfully she
was faster and halted his helpless movements by also standing and
placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I told you once...Actually I told you a million times...But
I'll tell you again: Sit!" she sighed. "You didn't
write it. But I'll show it to you later - it's been a long day,
and I don't think we should go rustling up too many memories at
this hour." She smiled and glanced down at first the items
spread across the table and then the reels still in the box.
"That said, I wouldn't mind reading what your school
teachers thought of you...And then seeing what interesting home
movie we have here..." Still standing, she put everything
back in the metal container, replaced the lid and then reached
out a hand to help him up.
Mulder frowned slightly, unhappy about what she refused to share,
and then once again uneasily stood up. "You really do like
to laugh in the presence and at the expense of my misery, don't
you?" he grumbled, picking up his glass of drink and turning
away.
"It's one of the things that helps me keep my sanity with
you."
"I heard that!"
She smiled and carefully placed the metal box under her arm
before following him in.
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As Scully took the coverings off of the stove, Mulder sat at the
kitchen table resigned to the fact that he was to sit. His limbs
felt heavy from the painkillers anyhow, so there was no point in
him hovering over Scully's shoulder as she fashioned them dinner.
"Good thing I brought out that folding card table, right
Scully?"
Scully was by this time at the refrigerator, taking some
vegetables from the bottom bins. "Yes, it was, Mulder. Thank
you. Hopefully by this time tomorrow we can hang the cupboard
doors, replace the countertop, and start gutting the
bathroom."
Mulder smirked. "We? Yeah, I suppose with one good arm and
one good foot I could be of some use. We can get through the
together."
"Right." Scully started browning some ground beef.
"How about early to bed, Mulder? It's been a hard day."
"Sure. Scully..."
She looked up from the fry pan. "What is it, Mulder?
"Thanks. I mean for this. The remodelling thing. By the way,
thanks for unearthing this drawing of me making monster faces at
Samantha. She... she got the scary look just right."
"No problem. Even though you were probably an unholy terror
at times, I'm sure she'd want you to have it. You should frame it
or laminate it."
Tears fell down Mulder's face as he gazed at the Crayola
rendering in his hands.
"Mulder? It's okay to let it out."
"This might have been her last drawing, Scully." He had
to pull himself together, he told himself. "She was
good."
"I know. Listen, right after we eat, I want you to go
straight to bed. You're tired, I'm tired, and we aren't at our
best right now."
"I know. I know. What's for supper?"
"Spaghetti with meaty tomato sauce and a soda."
"Great! I didn't know you could... "
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me,
Mulder." Scully smiled to herself. The letter she had found
was in her thoughts again, intruding on her cheerful mood. She
planned on reading it in bed before going to sleep. She prayed
Mulder wouldn't ask about it at least until she had a grasp on
what it meant.
"So, partner. I guess the 8mm movies can wait. What was in
that piece of paper you didn't want to show me?"
"I think an old Christmas list, Mulder." As she threw
spaghetti into boiling water, she prayed he would leave it at
that. She prayed to God to forgive her for lying to Mulder.
"Oh. Yeah, Mom was great for making lists." Mulder
shuffled papers and pictures together and put them back in the
rusted box. "I'll just put this out of harm's way and wash
up, if you give me the go ahead."
She was stirring sauce into the meat. "I'd appreciate that.
But just wash your hands and face. I think you should let things
heal up a bit over night." As she saw him leave the kitchen,
she hoped he wouldn't intrude on her solitude after her bath. She
was planning on taking it into the bathroom if necessary. There
was no way on earth Sherlock Mulder was in any shape to see the
contents.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All was quiet in the house, save for the bubbling pasta and meat
sauce. Scully stood there stirring for a few minutes when she
heard a dull thump and a muffled curse. She frowned and turned
down the sauce to simmer and stepped into the doorway between the
kitchen and hallway, listening for a moment. "Mulder?"
she called out.
She thought she heard another muffled curse, followed by a just
as muffled "Scuulleee!"
"Brooother," she muttered to herself as she loped
through the living room and down the hall. "Where are
you?" she called out.
"In the master bedroom," came back his still muffled
reply.
"What have you done to yourself this time, Mulder?" she
called out again as she entered the bedroom. She came to an
abrupt stop at the scene before her. Her partner was sprawled
flat out on the floor beside the bed, his jeans tangled around
his ankles and his ass sticking up for all to see, showing off
dark purple silk boxers. She choked back an abrupt laugh,
slapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes glimmering in amusement.
Mulder groaned and shifted his position with a hiss, flopping
onto the carpet on his side. "Stop cackling at me, Scully
and give me a hand."
She rushed to his side. "Mulder, I'm sorry," she said,
her voice and face still betraying her amusement as she assessed
the damage in the low lamplight from the single illuminating
device on the bedside table, her eyes flicking over him from head
to toe. She spotted the newest Mulder-abuse on his right shin...a
nasty looking gash running blood down his leg and into the
carpet. She then spotted the box on the floor beside him, a smear
of blood on one edge. One corner of her mouth rose in a smirk as
she deduced the situation, brushing her fingers around the wound.
"Trying to get dinner in bed, are you?"
Mulder flinched and scowled at her. "Are you going to just
examine me like a cadaver or are you going to fix me up?"
She met his eyes with an affectionate and indulging smile, but
said nothing, rising to procure, yet again, first aid supplies.
She briefly brushed her fingers through his damp hair (evidence
of face-washing) on the way to the bathroom and was rewarded with
a matching smile from him.
She returned with a wet washcloth and what supplies she could
scrounge from the cabinets; gauze, tape, scissors, betadine.
He eyed the small bottle of red liquid warily. "Not that
nasty stuff, Scully," he complained. "It hurts like
h...iyiyiyi!" he managed to get out before she started
cleaning and inspecting the wound.
She gently pulled the edges apart, her expression one of intense
examination. Satisfied with the evaluation, she applied that
"nasty stuff", ignoring his hiss of pain, and proceeded
to bandage him up. "It's not as bad as it looks, Mulder.
More blood than anything else, a bit of bruising."
"It certainly hurt like it. Took my breath away and I
couldn't move for a minute after I hit that box." He
struggled to sit up after she put on the finishing touches and
gave her a dirty look. "I do hope you realize that I still
have my pants around my ankles."
She gave him a totally unperturbed look. "Yes, I
noticed," she answered him glibly, eyeing the tangle at his
feet, then trailing her eyes back up his bare legs, to his purple
boxers and back to his face. What she saw there was his patented
blank-faced panic expression.
"Why do I suddenly feel very scared, Scully? That look on
your face ...it's downright predatory."
She blinked and blushed, as if coming back to herself.
"Sorry, Mulder," she mumbled, dropping her gaze.
"Didn't realize...sorry..." When there was just silence
from him for a long moment, she lifted her eyes back to his face.
The expression she saw there...he was grinning, biting his lower
lip, just barely stopping the chortle that came from his throat.
"Had you big time...Scully."
She flushed again, but this time in indignation. She reached over
and yanked his pants the rest of the way off, making him flop
back onto the floor. "You've just been waiting to use that,
haven't you?"
"Ouch, hey! Easy with the merchandise." He eyed her.
"What's so upsetting about that?" He reached out with
one bare foot and poked her with his toe.
She flicked her eyes back up at his face and let out a sigh,
rolling her eyes, her temper loosing it's power. "Don't give
me that look."
"What look?" he asked, all innocence.
"Mulder..." she warned, a flicker of amusement crossing
her face. "You're asking for it."
He waggled his brows. "I hope it's good."
She sighed again and rose to her feet. "You are patched up
sufficiently, Mulder. Take off your shirt and get in bed."
"What about my food?" he nearly whined, his eyes half
mast in drowsiness. "I'm hungry."
"You'll get it soon enough. Bed."
She helped him clamor slowly to his feet, as he used the bed for
support and sat down with barely a bounce. He grinned up at her
as he drew his shirt over his head. "I get dinner in bed
after all?"
She smiled and shook her head. "Yes, Mulder," she
indulged him. "I'm not about to haul your heavy ass all over
the house now that you've managed to abuse yourself to near
incapacity." She pulled the covers down, fluffed and stacked
the pillows and assisted him against the pile and under the cool
sheet, drawing it up to his waist, effectively covering at least
half of the bare, perpetually tanned body that insisted on
tempting her just by existing. She let out an unconscious sigh of
relief and dropped down to the floor on her haunches to clean up
the mess.
Several minutes later, the blood was mopped up as much as
possible, pants and shirt were neatly folded and placed on the
foot of the bed, and the first aid supplies were put away. As she
proceeded to shove the cleaned up box a safe distance under the
bed, she noticed the accumulated dust there too. Her little legs
were sticking out from the edge a good couple minutes, with a
little bit of squirming.
Mulder shifted to try to peer under the bed himself.
"Scully? What are you doing under there?"
After a moment she scooted her way out and came back up coughing,
her hair covered in dirty white dust bunnies. She looked like she
had a fuzz ball on her head. "It's terrible under there,
Mulder!"
In his amusement he saw her surreptitious stuff something into
her pocket. "Scully..." he warned. "What was that?
What did you find under there?"
"Later, Mulder," she insisted, trooping herself out the
door, the fuzz on her head waving in the wind of her wake.
"Scully, come back here."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After she and Mulder had dined in Mulder's room, Scully gave
Mulder his final painkillers for the day. "Now, I don't
think I'm going to be helping you re-do the bathroom here any
time soon, Mulder. So, I want you to get some sleep and we'll
drive back to Washington bright and early tomorrow morning."
"With the box, Scully. Memories are all I have now of my...
family. Weird as it was."
Scully grabbed their plates and turned off the light on the
bedside table. "Things happen for a reason. After all, I had
a New Age sister in a strict Catholic family. Good night."
"Yeah. Don't let the Christmas List from The Land of Big
Secrets attack." It hurt to grin, but he managed a small
semi-smile.
Scully grabbed the door knob and smiled sheepishly. "I
won't. Sleep tight, Mulder." As she took the plates into the
kitchen, she noticed the nacreous clouds passing over the view of
the half-moon through the kitchen curtains. The view was
beautiful, peaceful, soothing. She shook off the mesmerising
effect and placed the dishes in the sink. They could wait until
morning. The letter in Mrs. Mulder's handwriting could not.
She passed by the master bedroom to check on her partner. He was
by all appearances asleep. Quietly, she made her way up the
stairs to the spare room she'd been using and gathered her bath
accessories. The letter was carefully slipped into her bathrobe.
Tonight, by the lamplight in another woman's house, she would
perhaps learn something from a handwritten letter that was not
half as old as the box it had been stored in.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He heard the muffled sound of her footfalls on the stairs shortly
followed by the spare room door clicking shut, and took that as
his cue. His legs swung out - albeit a little shakily - over the
edge of the bed and then the un-fun part came: trying to stand
up. He made it, though, with grit teeth, and moved out into the
hall to begin his search.
She was hiding stuff from him and he had to know what.
"Christmas list my ass," he grumbled, searching through
the cupboards in the kitchen. Even as painkiller-addled as his
brain was at this point, he wasn't that stupid...She may be good
at lying to others, but he only had to look into her eyes or
listen to her voice to catch a hint of the deception they hid,
and this time was definitely no exception. After all, why
wouldn't she show it to him? He'd tried to ease the way for her
to tell all with his quipped comment of `don't let the Christmas
list from The Land of Big Secrets attack!` but she`d only smiled
and brushed it aside before leaving...
The kitchen thoroughly checked, he limped unsteadily into the
living room - his mind drifting back to the contents of the box
and the possible symbolic significance of each. For still-unknown
reasons his mother had burnt all other family photos before
killing herself...Had the box been buried some time before -
perhaps after her stroke - or--... Mulder's eyes widened and he
shot a glance over his shoulder at the empty hallway.
"It was something she wrote...when I didn't--...The
message--..." His quiet ramblings trailed off. He'd watched
Scully's mixture of emotions as she looked at the paper; listened
to her assure that everything was fine, that there was nothing to
worry about, and it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure
she'd been trying to protect him - protect him from another
emotional battering.
His new deduction only spurred on his search, and it came to the
point where he was turning over, opening, breaking everything in
hope of finding what Scully was trying to hide. He was curious
too about what had turned up under the bed, but his mind echoed
her `later', and the damn box was christened his new obsession.
...If only he had been able to leave a little space to remember
he'd taken off his shoes in here... It would have saved him from
tripping over them and banging his head on the corner of the desk
- knocking himself unconscious and leaving him alone on the floor
in the dimlylit room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder hadn't remembered that Scully would have been able to hear
his attempts at fracturing the past to bring glimmers of hope
into the present.
The words Scully read were those of Tina Mulder's, all right.
Hastily written and dated the day before she overdosed and died,
the letter was her final means of making amends and freeing
herself of a long, painful, and guilt-ridden death.
My
Dearest Fox,
...By the
time you read this, I will have been gone for quite some
time. Tomorrow I will place this letter
into the ground with the rest of our history of a 'happy'
family. A time long before that painful night
Samantha was taken. My hope is that while you are
searching for her, you use whatever you find to enable
yourself to let go of the pain you suffered by the
machinations of your father's fellow conspirators. Do not
look upon his memory too harshly, dear. He did what he
thought was right, and backed out of one of the most
disgusting agreements we have ever seen. You once asked
if I had been "Asked to choose", and I denied
any recollection of such. I did choose. I chose not to
have you taken, and not for any reason you may think in
the future. I knew you had a determination in everything
you did, and a keen sense of people's personalities. No
one could ever put one over on you, You had to survive in
order to take a path a man could take. Those days I made
the choice, we could not foresee that a woman would get
anywhere near where you are in the FBI. You have seen so
much, discovered more than I had ever dreamed at this
time, and I must leave you without having you see me
suffer a long, drawn-out demise. Never stop looking.
Never doubt that both of us loved you. If you ever hear
something unbelievable about that old Spender, believe
this: the most shocking thing you hear will not be a
lie. Search, believe, and Godspeed. I loved both you and
your sister. Take my love with you."
.......................................Mom.
Scully's eyes glistened under the lamplight as she heard a ruckus
coming from the main floor of the house. She folded the letter
and quickly placed it under her pillow, grabbed her bathrobe and
hastened down the stairs. "Is that you, Mulder?" She
flicked on the light switch to find her unconscious partner lying
on the living room floor, blood trickling from the side of his
head. "Oh my God! Can you hear me, Mulder?"
The little boy grown a man lay on the floor motionless, as Scully
dialed for the EMS.
After she hung up, she was still unable to rouse Mulder. As she
checked his pulse and tried to look for signs of trauma to places
other than the head, she mumbled, "And all this because of
the machinations of some group of men and an agreement! Some
Dad... Why all these accidents? Why here?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was ridiculous - trying on her nerves, undoubtedly, but
ridiculous overall. Finger, hand, leg, knee...A simple trip to
his mother's house to do some refurnishing had turned into an
injuryfest for her partner, with the final blow leaving him naked
(save for his boxers) and unconscious on the living room floor -
even the EMTs had raised curious brows at the sight of the new
band-aids and patches.
"It's been one of those days," she'd shakily dismissed,
wishing they'd just hurry and get him to the hospital.
The sickening thing was, not a single piece of new furniture had
been completely assembled! So much for `creativity'...
I told you we should have got the kit, his voice chided in her
mind.
None of it really mattered now, though; they were still here and
she still had no idea what was going on behind the green double
doors to her right.
"We'll let you know as soon as we can," a doctor she'd
forgotten the name of had assured as her partner was rushed on a
gurney to X-ray. But that had been thirty-minutes ago, nobody had
come to her, and despite the FBI and medical credentials she'd
thrown in the face of anybody walking by that listened for more
than one second, no word had arrived on Mulder's status.
Hand, finger, leg, hand, head, knee, finger, head, leg...
Blood everywhere...
Sculleeeeeeeee, it hurts!
This was ridiculous... Why so many accidents (he hadn`t even had
this many injuries whilst out on a dangerous case!)? Why him? Why
there? It was his mother's house with no real history to it, so
why? Scully paced the fluorescent-lit corridor with a hand
pressed to her mouth as she turned it all over in her head - the
letter from the box and photo of CGB Spender with Teena she'd
found underneath the bed always come to the forefront.
`If you ever hear something unbelievable about that old Spender,
believe this: the most shocking thing you hear will not be a
lie.'
How many more secrets were hidden around that house? Just how
much had Mrs Mulder intended her son to find? And - thinking
about it even more - Dana had to ask: how much did they have the
right to dredge up from the past? Samantha was dead and the whole
mystery of her disappearance had been finally resolved. Maybe
chasing ghosts and trying to look deeper was only encouraging the
unknown presence to continue stalking her partner.
Slowing to a halt, Dana pulled the folded letter from the pocket
of the robe she still wore - one of the edges now stained in the
blood from her partner's head wound. She studied it for a moment
before slipping it away again and deciding she would keep it away
until a much later date - hopefully Mulder, when he pulled
through (she repeatedly assured herself), would forget about it,
and they could return home to help him gain inner peace once and
for all.
"Agent Scully?"
Her head snapped up at the sound of the doctor's approaching
voice - thoughts of secrets and the house pushed aside for the
all important question:
"How is he?"
A bespectacled, middle-aged doctor pointed to a chair.
"Please, Dr. Scully, take a seat."
"I think that means something serious?" As she sat
down, her stomach tensed. "I mean, that's what doctors say
when things are very unpleasant..."
"Well, your friend in there has a nasty skull fracture, and
we've detected some internal haemorhaging into the occipital
lobe. Now I want to impress upon you the urgent need to have his
next-of-kin agree on immediate surgery..."
"I'm the next-of-kin!" The words flew out of her mouth
almost before she could think them. "I'm sorry. I mean I
have his permission to handle his affairs. Just how much
bleeding, Doctor?"
"Enough to raise my concerns. While Mr. Mulder is conscious,
we did need to sedate him because he seemed quite
agitated..."
"Agitated? Did he say anything? Did he ask for me?"
"Slow down, slow down. He kept saying out there, all around,
like something pushed me... and that's when we sedated him."
Already the wheels were turning in Scully's head. So there HAD
been something behind these accidents, and even if she hadn't
seen anything, and he may not have seen anything, she wondered if
he Mulder had felt invisible victimized in some way. At this
point in their partnership, she had learned of many things she
had believed were impossible in this world. "Okay... so
you'll need me to sign some papers. Is there any way..."
"I don't think he's going to die. I do think there is a
danger of permanent damage unless we get in there and stop the
bleeding, remove what has seeped into the tissue, and assess
whether there's any permanent impairment in his thought
processes."
Scully was tired, drained from the ambulance ride, the waiting,
the worry. Then there were Mulder's words and the remembrance of
some past cases running through her mind. She forced herself out
of the intrusive thought pattern. "I can sign the
papers," she said slowly. "You need to stop the
haemorrhage. "Can I see him?"
"I'm afraid he's not up to that right now. He is asleep, and
the sooner we get to the operating room, the better we can help
him, Dr. Scully. I know you have a lot on your mind. Please sign
the permission forms on this clipboard, and we should be out in
about six hours. Now, go home and get something to eat, some
rest. We'll let you know as soon as we're out of there what you
can expect."
"No, I can stay here."
"Yes, and in pajamas and a bathrobe, you could pass for a
patient..."
"I...hadn't realized." Scully held the robe more
tightly around herself, as if to insulate herself from her cares.
"I guess I can call a cab, and pay him after I get into the
house. No, I don't feel I can leave. Well, I admit I could use a
clean-up." She signed on the dotted line. "Call, no
matter when?"
The doctor smiled warmly. "If I can't, one of the nurses
will." He took the liberty of patting Scully on the back.
"Take a break, Doctor. Heaven knows, after all those
injuries you attended to you've put in a good few hours of
medical practice."
Scully couldn't hear the doctor by then. Her mind was filled with
questions about Mulder's state, the mysterious circumstances of
his numerous injuries, and Mrs. Mulder's words coursing through
her thoughts. What hadn't been said? A cab. I'll call a cab, she
reminded herself. Maybe she did need some rest. Then again,
Mulder's words were also haunting her. Perhaps sleep would bring
a fresh perspective.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TEENA MULDER'S RESIDENCE
9:22 AM
To her complete surprise and with a hundred pounds of guilt in
her head, Scully had managed to have a long sleep. She had fallen
asleep in the livingroom waiting for the hospital to call.
"What the hell am I doing, sleeping the day away!" she
mumbled to herself.
She ran to her room and threw her robe to the floor, putting on a
bra, white tee shirt and black twill slacks. Then, she combed her
hair and ran downstairs to get her car keys. The cell phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Dr. Scully, your partner's awake and doing pretty
well."
"No complications?"
"None."
"Thank you so much, Dr. Ferguson. I'm on my way."
By the time Scully arrived at the hospital, she was beginning to
wonder what possible damage the blow to Mulder's head could have
left. What was it that had been causing all the so-called
accidents. Why him? As she walked through the ER doors, she
whispered to herself, "Why him" Why not me? And why
now? Something's not right. It couldn't be aliens..."
As the elevator doors closed, she found herself praying that
Mulder wouldn't sustain long-term damage.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As soon as Scully reached the fifth floor she went straight up to
Mulder's room, 526. She knew Mulder had come through the surgery
all right when she heard his voice.
"Hey, Scully. I guess this is my second home, not the
FBI."
"Thank God you're okay, Mulder. Can you... Mulder, you hit
your head, on that old box. Did they tell you?"
"Yeah, I seem to recall someone mentioning that. When they
flashed the light into my eyes, I sort of figured I wasn't in
Kansas anymore. If you're wondering if I can see..."
Scully was laughing and crying at the same instant. "Well. I
guess SO! I do feel guilty, though, for going back to the house
and sleeping."
"No, don't do that. You've been working hard at making that
place better. Look, I had a feeling after everything that's
happened. Especially when I thought I could feel something
pushing me when I fell... "
"You said that last night... "
"Scully, please let me finish. I saw Mom. Under anesthetic,
I saw Mom. She told me... "
"...They're in the house. They don't want you to know
anything more. Get out before you die... " Scully repeated.
"She told me to get you out of there for the same reason.
Just last night. What do we do now. Mulder?"
Mulder had to think about it. It would be great to investigate
the hell out of this, but there were too many other things at
stake and things that needed to be brought into the light of day
already. "We go home, Scully. We go home, until we can
either communicate with them, or we deal with all the other
things, possibly people, that are connected. We do our jobs, look
for the answers at the same time, and keep an eye out for
anything to get past whatever comes our way."
THE END
'
Disclaimer:
Mulder and Scully and the title the X-Files are property of Chris
Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Studios. We made no
money from writing this story, and intended no copyright
infringement. All we want to do is shake Mulder up a bit. Once he
settles, we'll do it all again.
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