Date sent:        Sat, 27 Dec 1997 16:06:59 -0500
From:             Macspooky <macspooky@erols.com>
Subject:          Christmas Miracle et al

The X-Files and the characters in it belong to Chris Carter, Fox, Ten
Thirteen, et. al.  I am merely borrowing them for a short time and not
making any profit.  No copyright infringement is intended here.  Also, "Joy
to the World" belongs to Three Dog Night.  I always enjoyed that song.  I
finished this story on December 8, 1997.  I don't care who posts it where
as long as my name is kept with it.


I want to thank Vickie Moseley (vmoseley@fgi.net) for letting me write
this story.  It follows her recent work "Turns in the Road." When she sent
the story to me I enjoyed it so much I sat down at my word processor and
did the entire story through Scully's point of view.  If you haven't read it,
do so. Believe me, it is worthwhile!


Thanks also to G. Hill for beta reading.


I can be reached as macspooky@erols.com.


Summary: Scully's thoughts as she is spending a long cold night in a
Florida forest with an injured partner when she could be at a conference
building towers of office furniture.  MSR - Sort of.

Spoilers: "Detour" "Pilot" "Small Potatoes"


                                "Detours Along the Way"
                                         by
                                        Macspooky       


I heard Mulder cry out.  His cry was weak and I knew he was injured but at
least he was alive and now I had a general direction in which to let my
eyes search.  The trouble was that I couldn't see anything.  I was stuck in
a cold forest in Florida...yeah....that's right...cold in Florida...being 
stalked
by an invisible monster who had captured my partner.  Mulder cried out
again, louder this time but in considerably more pain.  I saw the bushes
move and I started to fire.  One shot...two...three...four....five...as I prayed
that I was hitting my target.  I usually did.  However, and it was a big
however, I could usually see my target.  "God, don't let me kill Mulder by
mistake...not now...not like this with so much still unsaid."


Miracles really do happen.  Somehow the predator let go of him, although
not before tearing large gashes in his shoulder.  An uninjured Mulder would
be too much to hope for. I wanted to get hysterical, just this once, but I
was too well trained. I was an FBI agent and I was a doctor.  As a rule,
Mulder was my only live patient, but over the years I had gotten plenty of
practice keeping him that way.  It was amazing what came back to you in a
pinch, how you could walk into an ER in Alaska and face down a six foot
something macho male physician and gain the upper hand....I didn't have a
lot of time to dwell on it, however.  Mulder was going into shock.  I had to
get him someplace reasonably sheltered, bind his wounds and figure out
some way to keep him warm.  I knew it was an effort, but I managed to
convince him that he needed to get to his feet and we moved to a small
clearing where some fallen trees were piled.  It wasn't much shelter, but
it was better than nothing.  I couldn't keep him laying with his feet up on
those logs for long though.  He seems to find that position undignified. 
I've never asked him if he has ever been to a proctologist.


You know, I'm not sure what I was thinking when I started to undress in
front of him.  I mean, I knew I couldn't use his tee shirt for a bandage.  It
was too damn cold.  He would need every layer of clothing he had because
the temperature was dropping even as I thought about it. I had begun
thinking of it as the Dana Scully luck.  Go to Florida just in time for record
lows and freeze your too skinny ass off kind of luck.  I started pulling off
jackets and sweaters and then my Victoria's Secret tee shirt.  It had been
a hell of an expensive tee shirt even on sale.  Don't know why I had bought
it.  Shortly after I had gotten out of the hospital and as soon as I had
regained enough strength to walk further than the bathroom, I had gone
with mom to the shopping mall.  I can still see that Navy wife in her with
four little kids to raise on military pay shuddering at the price of this tee
shirt when I could have bought one for $2 or $3 somewhere, but she had
remained silent. 


Over the years she has remained silent about a lot that bothers her such as
why the hell Mulder and I haven't gotten married in a nice Catholic
ceremony somewhere and given her some dark haired grandchildren.
Somewhere deep inside of me on the day I bought the shirt, something
must have told me I would be using it to bandage Mulder who was
decidedly not Catholic.  Nothing but the best for my partner....and hero. 
Anyway, maybe I wasn't thinking anything.  Besides, he'd seen my body
before.  There was that first case....the one I don't like to think about and
he never mentions....and then there was the time I was in my coma and he
accidently walked in while they were bathing me. Mom let that one slip.  I
never mentioned it to him.  Some things are best left unsaid.  He didn't
comment on having seen the size of my breasts and I didn't comment on
having seen how well hung he was.  It was better for partners not to
discuss these things.  Anyway, he closed his eyes.  Ever the gentleman. 
Damn it....I think, not that he could have done anything at that point if he
would have decided he liked what he saw.  My fantasies were going to have
to remain fantasies for awhile.  A pity he had run away from me the day
before when I brought the wine and cheese to his room.  


Somehow I managed to get him bandaged and redressed.  Darkness was
falling fast and I couldn't get the fire started.  Mulder's experience with
his dad as an Indian Guide was no help.  Then again, I suspect it hadn't been
much of an experience.  Although he never talked about it, I sensed
the relationship had never been great, not even before Samantha had been
taken.  I had always had visions of a lovely sensitive little boy with a cold
harsh father wanting to make a man out of him.  Anyway, I decided to try
to open one of the bullet casings even though we were very low on ammo
to see if I could get things started.  Rubbing the two rocks together sure
hadn't and it was giving me a headache.  Of course, Mulder didn't have to
tell me I was crazy.  I already knew he thought that.  Gun powder is an
explosive.  I'd probably blow the pile of wood up in my face or something,
but I could feel him shaking beside me, hear his teeth chattering although
he was trying to control it for my benefit and I had to try something.  I am
not now and never have been a quitter.  If I were, I would have succumbed,
if not to the cancer itself, to the nausea I experienced for some time after
Dr. Zuckerman's treatments.  Finally I pried the casing open breaking two
nails in the process.  Of course, the gun powder blew up and the fire didn't
start, but I had given it my best and that was all that could be asked of a
person.

I pulled him into my arms to keep him warm.  I would have laughed at him
telling me he didn't want to wrestle if the situation weren't so damned
serious.  Mulder was always Mulder, even in shock.  The man's humor was
totally warped.  Most men would have told me what I already knew, that I
was hurting him, but he needed warmth. I held on to him as he lay with his
head in my lap curled in a fetal position.


Please don't ask me why I started to sing "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog."
What a song to choose.  Hell, I tried to talk Mulder out of hearing me sing,
but he would not be dissuaded.  I was never able to carry a tune and never
able to play a musical instrument, unlike my sister who could do both
extremely well.  On the other hand, maybe I do know why I chose to sing
about Jeremiah.  Back when I was a kid, we would all pile into the family
station wagon at the crack of dawn on Thanksgiving morning and head off
to visit Grandma Scully.  She lived far away and it was a miracle that old
car used to make it.  With four of us, it wasn't long before the squabbling
started....you know...the usual stuff....he touched me....no she touched me
first.....he stuck his tongue out at me....name calling....Her mom would then
diffuse the situation by having everyone sing "The Bullfrog Song."
They would laugh themselves silly and be happy....for a few minutes until
Billy shot his mouth off about something.  It was a bad habit of his.  I
hadn't realized until later years that it was almost the same spot every
year that dad had had to stop the car, haul Billy out and make good use of
the back of Mom's hairbrush on his behind.  After that, the remainder of
the trip had been quiet.  Younger siblings tended to watch and learn.  Those
sessions had hurt dad more than they had hurt Billy.  Billy was the first
born and Dad was always so proud of him.  Some things didn't change.  Billy
still shot his big mouth off.  The trouble was dad wasn't around
to keep him in line anymore. Maybe one day I'll explain to Mulder about
Jeremiah if we survive the night.  As a rule, Mulder and I don't talk a
whole lot about that sort of thing, but I believe it is time we started.  I
know we need to talk about my brother Billy. Also, life is too short for
everything to be about work.  That was a lesson I've had to learn the hard
way.  I'm not sure my partner has yet.


I couldn't resist the temptation to stroke his hair gently as he slept.  He
has such beautiful hair, soft and silky.  I suspect he was keeping me
warmer than I was actually keeping him.  It was nice to touch him like
this.  If we live through this, he would have more than 50 years with his
glorious head of hair.  Unlike dad, Mulder is never going to go bald.


I still don't know what possessed me to go to his motel room with wine
and cheese.  I ought to have known better, ought to have known that if
there was a missing person and even the remotest possibility of a monster
to chase, he would be gone.  Maybe I scared him just a little...well, more
than a little, too. Hell, I didn't expect him to declare his undying love for
me then and there, strip me naked and make passionate love to me.  I
wouldn't have stopped him, but I wouldn't have expected it.  I suppose I
had hoped for an opening, a beginning.  When I was sick in the hospital, he
came in and kissed me every day.  As sick as I was, I realized I liked it. 
Sometimes it seemed as though I were living for those moments, hanging
on for those kisses. 


After I found out I was in remission, I "endured" the family visits.  It
wasn't that I didn't want to see them, but I wanted Mulder more than
anyone, to see him, to know he was okay, to have him kiss me yet again. 
When he finally came into my room, he didn't...kiss me that is.  It hurt a
little.


Oh, God, what a mistake I made then.  I asked him where my kiss was.   It
had been meant as a tease. So, he bent over to kiss me with this silly grin
on his face as though he were glad I had asked and what had happened? 
Bill came back into the room in search of the sweater mom had
forgotten.  Well, guys will be guys or so Mom always philosophically
pronounced.  Bill didn't seem to like the idea of Mulder having his "hands
all over my sister before she is even out of her sick bed" and the hell with
how his sister felt about it.  As a result, of being on the bottom of the
 pile when the brawl started, my IV line had been ripped out.  I ended up on
the floor with a bruise on my ass the size of Colorado.  I have to say it
was my own fault.  If I had let Billy haul Mulder off of me and move the
fight outside, it would have been okay.  I mean, jeez, Mulder knows how to
handle himself, and he and Billy were a pretty equal match, but all of a
sudden, I was 10 years old again.  Didn't matter that I was recovering
from cancer and chemo and had the strength of a wet dishrag.  My big
brother was picking on my friend, and Dana Scully couldn't allow that.  I
had never hesitated to wade right in with the big guys even if it did mean
getting my butt kicked when there was no one around to remind them that
they weren't supposed to "hit girls."  So, I reached up and tried to
separate them forgetting totally about the IV line.  I don't know what the
hell I did, but as Mulder's weight came off my body, I must have rolled.


Poor  Mom ended up in the ER with "her two boys" as she put it later on,
both of whom were in cuffs, while Mulder got his face stitched and Bill
had his black eye attended to, leaving mom to assure the nice policewoman
that she had the situation well under control and that no charges
would be pressed.  It was the end of a perfect day for all concerned.  Thank
God Skinner had already left. 


Anyway, I was tempted to show the goddamed bruise to the two of them
but my sense of dignity prevented it.  I let mom describe it to them.  I
neglected to mention that I had had a big part in getting it.  As I say, 10
years old again.  Well, apparently they had convinced the policewoman
to bring them upstairs to check on me. I heard it from the nurses later
that by the time mom got done lacing into the two of them, they were both
feeling pretty silly.   After she reached up and knocked their heads
together while describing in detail the bruise on my tush, giving both an
additional bump on the head, the nice policewoman apparently decided that
Maggie Scully really did know how to handle "her boys." At that point she
released them deciding that justice had already been meted out in far
sterner fashion than would ever be dished out by any judge. 


Knowing mom, I believe it too.  Not only did she raise four of us, alone
when dad was away, but to make extra money she also ran a daycare at
home at one point.  Usually she ended up with boys.  She knows how they
operate.  As for me, I know neither one of the guys would ever want to
hurt me.  They both felt terrible.  It really had been an accident.  And, I can
play female games too although I don't like to admit it. I milked it for
everything it was worth at first even though the two clowns were already
forgiven for acting like idiots.  They didn't need to know that though.  It
kept my room filled with beautiful peach roses that Mulder had decided
should be my favorite and the pink carnations that Billy knew I had always
adored as a child.  When I thought they had spent
enough, I let them know they were excused....this time...but that they had
better not let it happen again.  Billy fell for it hook line and sinker.  I have
a feeling that Mulder was a bit more skeptical for once, that he knew
exactly what I was doing, but he seemed to enjoy it, and I really do love
peach roses.
  

Anyway, I digress.  I brought the wine and Mulder fled.  I really wanted to
sit with him and talk.  I suppose I remembered how much I enjoyed the
evening with Eddy Van Blunhth before I knew  it was Eddy Van Blunhth. 
Wishful thinking....not Mulder's style talking over cheese and wine.  There
was so much I wanted to say to him, starting with an apology for the way
I acted toward him in those months as my impending death grew closer
and more certain.  I knew there were times I was a shrew.  The problem
was that I was so full of anger that I couldn't express and I took  it out on
him.  My communications skills needed some work too.  I hadn't even been
able to speak about it coherently tonight. I tried, but it came out all
confused.  Now that he was asleep, all I wanted do was to say I was sorry
and to love him.  Does he, I wonder, want that love as much as I want to
give it?  I would like the answer to be yes.  I know he loves me.  I'm just
not certain how.  There are many kinds of love. I have this fantasy that he
will ask me to marry him.  We will have beautiful dark haired babies.  He
will have to sing them to sleep though.  I wouldn't want to traumatize
them with my voice.  Of course, this is a fantasy.  I can't have babies. 
When I brought the wine, though I think I would have been happy to talk and
to maybe well, you know, just sit and make out for awhile, like a pair of
teenagers, ease into things gradually.  Okay, okay...a part of me wanted to
jump him, but when you've seen Mulder in black silk boxers....well, enough
of those thoughts for now.


The sun is finally coming up.  My bladder is ready to burst and I'm 
starving.  Since getting over the nausea, I've  gotten my appetite back
with a vengeance.  I'm not gaining a lot of weight, but I am getting
stronger, strong enough to be sent to this conference.  I desperately
tried to talk Skinner out of it, citing the fact that such an affair would be
painful for my lone wolf partner, but to no avail. I suspect that my
boss was enjoying the idea of a bit of Mulder torture in light of all he had
been put through over the years.  Well, I don't suppose I can blame the man
really.  We have been a royal pain in his ass.  Unless I want to spend the
day in pants wetter than they already are from sitting on the damp ground,
I am going to have to move Mulder.  I'll keep my eye on him as I back into
the bushes.  Scully luck again...thorns.  Oh well.  Damn female
anatomy anyway.  I mean I suppose it is okay if you are using it for
something other than peeing in the bushes, but I haven't used it for
anything fun in a long damned time. What do I need it for anyhow?  Mulder
wouldn't be having this problem.  It would be easier if I
were wearing a skirt....in the woods.. Yeah right.   Hey, there are some wild
berries.  I can still see Mulder.  Not very filling but they sure taste good.


"Scully...." He's awake.  He is concerned.  Maybe I shouldn't have left
him...but my bladder.


"I'm over here, Mulder.  Food...I found some wild berries.  You were never
out of my sight. " I stuck my head up hoping he wouldn't make some wise
assed crack about what I'd really gone into
the bushes to do.  I must look a wreck and I don't even want to contemplete
what I smell like at this point.  Well, Mulder has seen me looking worse.
Suddenly I hear the bushes rustle nearby.  I am in a deep hole having landed
hard but at least nothing is broken.  Oh God, I am not alone, and I don't have
my gun...


The End