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Title: Safe At Home Revisited (1/1) Safe
At Home Revisited A
contented Margaret Scully walked into the living room, having just put
William down. Her grandson
was such a good baby. He'd
nestled within her arms, and had dropped right off.
No fuss, no muss. Not usually from him.
Dana's hand, having just alighted on the knob, turned it as her
mother spoke, "How long will you be gone, dear?" "I'm
not sure, Mom." She
checked her wristwatch, a pensive look overshadowing her eyes, and with a
shrug said, "I shouldn't be long.
I'm off for a drive to unwind.
A little hectic in class today.
Could pick something up, if you want.
Want anything?" Maggie
thought, then replied with a wistful lilt, "Some ice cream would be
nice." Her
daughter liked that idea. "Vanilla,
Chocolate and Strawberry." A
trio that went together as well
as...she caught her breath, letting the air out of her lungs
leisurely...Langly, Frohike and Byers. Her
mother nodded, her favorite trio of flavors responsible for her
uncomplicated smile . It'd
been ages since she'd had an old-fashioned sundae.
"Don't forget the hot fudge and whipped cream." "And
a cherry on top?" Dana added, returning her mother's smile.
No strings. No hidden
agendas. When her mother
smiled, the world turned a little easier, to the new mom's way of
thinking. "Yes.
We'll really splurge tonight." Dana
stepped over the threshold with a twinkle in her eyes which shone for her
mother, and in anticipation for the man she was slipping away to speak to.
She had roughly twenty or so minutes to get to where she wanted to
be when her cellphone would chirp. "Mother's
and daughter's night in. Maybe
there'll be an old movie on we both like." "I'll
check to see, Dana. I'm in
the mood to watch 'All About Eve.' Backstabbing
at its best. I absolutely
love Betty Davis in that movie. Most
of all when she delivers that line about fastening seatbelts, 'it's going
to be a bumpy ride.'" 'If
you only knew how true that's become for us all, Mom,' Dana briefly
thought. She was all for it
too. "Great. I'll be right back."
She held up long enough to tack on, "I'll rent it.
That way we'll really get to see it.
'Bye." Maggie
headed for the kitchen to finish drying the dishes, and humming 'When You
Wish Upon a Star.' @<@<@<@<@ The
drive over to the baseball field...'their' baseball field...afforded
Scully the perfect opportunity to sort herself out.
Times to do so uninterrupted were few and far between.
Thoughts radiating around how the four of them were faring on this
forced road trip were a constant. Ever
since she had hung around for the lowering of the three empty caskets into
'hallowed ground,' with Skinner, the willing accomplice, dutifully at her
side, she worried for them now too. Every
bit as much as she did for the man, her man, whom Doggett and Reyes had
tipped about the 'vultures' circling around the Gunmen, preparing to bring
them down. Acting
upon that timely information well in advance, had saved the Gunmen's
lives. It
was painful how much she missed them.
She had had a headstart with missing Mulder, and now add the Gunmen
to the list. She missed
Byers' natty appearance, his gentle steel for a backbone.
Langly's weird T-shirts, his if it's junk, I'll eat it, whatever it
is, mystique. They'd gone to
see the 'Phantom Menace' together where she'd been an eyewitness to that. Frohike...well,
she'd be the last person to admit this to anyone, most of all to him, but
she missed everything about him. The
way he still looked at her with appreciatively attentive eyes which
bespoke, 'all these years later, and you're still hot.
You're hotter. You're
somebody's mother now, and still the sexiest woman going in three-inch 'I
can outrun Mulder' heels. It
was two weeks ago to the day since the charade had been pulled off, and
the last she'd heard from Mulder, telling her that, going forward, he
would call her at this time, two weeks hence. Where
did she want to be when he would speak with her over her phone?
She wanted to be at one of the few places they hadn't felt hounded. That
magical municipal baseball field, not far from her apartment, where 'Poor
Boy' had chucked baseballs at them. Where
Mulder pressed his advantage of feeling her up under the pretext that she
needed to learn how to hit a baseball.
Something her brothers had wasted no time teaching her how to do as
soon as they discovered they had one fine tomboy for a sister. She
was pulling the car into the empty play field's parking lot. Nothing radical had changed about the place.
Nobody was around. Nobody in the well-manicured outfield, nor hardpacked
infield, nor at the hard rubber slab...home plate. She
got out of the car, and headed in that direction.
She looked up at the sky as she went.
A smile of nostalgia spread over her face. 'Are the stars out tonight...I can't tell if it's cloudy or
bright...'cos I only have eyes for you.'
The stars were as bright as they had been that, what felt to her
still, mystical night. The
air was still rife with Mulder's blarney. 'Oh,
no, Miss Scully, the pleasure is all mine... '...A
mighty fine piece of ash...' Scully
felt lightheaded all over again, just as she had that first time Mulder's
arms tightened around her. When
her cellphone chirped, she dragged her mind away from steamier memories. "Mulder." Through
the phone, "Yeah, Scully, it's me."
In the background she could hear the faint bits and pieces of an
argument between...it sounded like Frohike and Langly.
Who else? But their familiar sound of discord was music to her
ears. "Where
are you?" "Where
are we, Byers?" She
wished she was with them to see the bearded (she wondered if he had shaved
it off for appearance-altering purposes) perfectionist consulting the
roadmap he invariably must have. Then,
his voice was funneling into her ear. "Hello,
Scully..." "Hiya,
John. So, how much distance
have you put between yourselves and here?" "We're
just outside of a suburb called The Moons." "It's
a suburb of what?" Scully
glanced up at the full, cooly pale, faraway orb shining its rays down upon
her. "Sheridan...
We're in Colorado, Scully." She
whistled. "That's some
time you're making." Byers
dropped his voice and said confidentially, "Well, we would be making
better time, if we didn't have to stop so much because Langly has to
relieve himself every time he drinks something jumbo-sized and cold." "Don't
let him drink so much." "Easy
to say," Byers muttered. "Then
he whines. You know how he
gets." Feeling
forlorn then, suddenly, she did. Langly
and William got along famously. The
connection was obvious. "Let
me speak to him." At
their end, she heard Byers tell Langly that Scully wanted to speak to him.
His muffled, "What'll I say?" brought a constrained
pursing of her lips. Then,
"Uh...Scully?" "Hey,
Cutie, how's it going?" The
baseball diamond was cleaner than a whistle.
It was downright immaculate. Scully
hunkered down into a crouch which she didn't maintain for long, finally
opting for sitting upon the diamond cross-legged style. There were many reasons she wore slacks more so nowadays.
Comfort was at the head of the list. Her
legs felt tired. Standing
before a class for the better part of the day was tougher than all the
travail she'd had tracking down the gamut of mutants alongside Mulder. "Okay,
I guess. I wish we were there
already." Scully
grinned, having heard the, 'Are we there yet' inflection oversewn in his
tone. "Hang in there,
Scarecrow. You'll make
it." Her brow wrinkled
in thought, then with an air of collusion she said, "I've been
watching Farscape for the past two weeks.
Keeping our weekly new tradition alive." She
heard his sharp intake of breath. "Cool.
Catch me up," he said on impulse, then realizing in that same instant
that the call had to be kept short. "Like
next time we see each other fill me in.
Tape the stuff we're missing, maybe?" "I'll
start this week." "Thanks,
Scully...I...uh...well. You
know." "I
know. I miss you too, Langly.
All of you. We'll see
each other soon." Her
voice held promise, but there was a hint of uncertainty lurking amidst the
resolve. "Could you put
Frohike on for a minute?" "No
prob." To Frohike he
blared, "Hey, Doohikey, Scully wants ya."
Even louder then, he taunted, "*NOT*. Ha-ha, psych. Here--" "Gimme
that, Woodstock aftermath." Scully,
despite her on-again, off-again distraction with melancholy, smiled,
hearing how much she missed this sort of thing.
Two weeks felt like a very long time not seeing them.
With Mulder gone, she had made it a habit of seeing them at least
two or three times a week, not counting having them come over to watch
Farscape with her. A wild idea that had grown on her. "Hey, there, Scully." "Hi
there, 'Hike." "Miss
us?" "What
do you think?" she demanded. "You're
quite the little actress." "Mulder
said the same about you three." "Were
those real tears you shed as I watched you through binoculars more than a
hundred yards off?" "They
could have been. My eyes
always tear when there's a brisk breeze, and Skinner was cracking jokes
through a straight face. Off-color
jokes. Targeting the status of the love lives, or lack thereof, of you
three." She sniggered,
changing tack, and asked, "'Hike...what are you wearing?"
Scully sniffed through a brief chuckle. "I
was just about to ask you the same." "I
asked you first," Scully plied. "Leather..."
Frohike insinuated, and as easily as releasing a breath to relax, Scully
imagined the look he was wearing. "Fingerless?" "Think
I'd go out half-dressed, Foxy Lady?" "Never.
Not you. Little black
cap as well?" "The
whole ensemble. Not much
variation on funky poaching attire." "The
only difference being..." She
paused, giving herself time to phrase it accurately. "It's
funky takin' it on the lamb...Pacific West Coast, or bust threads for the
time being." "Well
put." "Where
are you call--" "Sorry
to haveta break up this cozy chat, Melvin." She
heard Mulder intervene, and Frohike's parting words were, "When we
get to where we're goin', we'll contact you.
The rumored father
of your child's pullin' rank again. 'Bye,
Scully. Miss ya." "Miss
you too, 'Hik--" "Scully..." "Yes,
Mulder." Then with just
a tinge of irritation coloring the sound of her voice, she said,
"That was rude, you know. Not
letting me finish saying goodbye to him." "Yeah,
rude," Frohike complained, his keen hearing treating him to Scully's
protestation. "We'll
kiss and make up about it when we're together again," Mulder said,
his voice flirting with sarcasm. "We'll
do that for a lot of reasons." It
was spoken much too mutedly and gravelly for her to hear him distinctly.
Static wasn't the culprit this time.
She imagined that the Gunmen were formed around him in a tight
circle, making him feel awkward. "Once
the Gunmen re-establish themselves, I head back." "Any
serviceable idea when that could be?" she asked, sounding expectant,
hopeful. "You
want a ballpark estimate?" Measuring
a beat, Scully did an unhurried visual scan of her present surroundings,
nodding. "Considering
where I am, that would be very apropros." "Another
two to three weeks, dependent upon how smoothly their setting up
goes." Sounding pressed
for time, Mulder stressed, "We hope to be well through Idaho this
time tomorrow." "We
will, if Langly can hold his water," Frohike reamed, sounding closer
to the mouthpiece than Mulder did. "Gotta
go, babe," Mulder underscored with an undertow of regret. "Watch
out for each other," Scully enjoined. "That's
priority number one. Love ya." "Love
you too, Mulder. Be careful.
All of you." "I
know this is a ridiculous thing to ask, but try not to worry." "Yeah,
right, Mulder. That's as easy
as keeping your fish well fed. The
greedy little grubbers are always hungry." "You're
the momma. Put 'em on a
diet." "Sure,
and since I am, I overfeed them until they bloat." "See
ya soon. Remember...trust no
one, except those who've already proven themselves." "Many
a lesson learned the hard way in keeping with that," Scully leaked
into the phone. "Wish
we were there to watch your back, Scully," came the sentimental
tidings in triplicate. "So
do I, but now your backs need watching.
Guys, be good. Mind
Mulder." "Yes,
*Mommy*," Langly nimbly bantered, sounding as though he were in
possession of the phone. "'Bye..." "'Bye,
Mulder." She
held the cellphone, just staring at it for a while, wondering what she was
going to tell her mother when the time came for detailed explanations,
covering the balance of the last nine years.
Shortly, the end of the agonizing associated with such a
conversation would come. Shrugging
off the dictates of the problematic conversation, reserved for the future,
she rose from the hard diamond, dusted her pants legs off a bit, and even
stretched before heading back to the car. Thoughts
of where she'd rent the old movie, and what brand of Vanilla, Chocolate
and Strawberry she'd get swirled in her mind.
It was a toss-up between either Edy's or Ben and Jerry's.
She conjectured for just a moment what the Gunmen's favorite ice
cream flavors possibly were. Oddly,
the subject had never come up in all these years.
Well, not wholly true. There
had been that one flash of insight as far as Byers was concerned. Frohike
was probably a Rocky Road man. A
mixture of the hard with the soft. Byers...Tiramisu,
when he indulged his flamboyant side.
One did lurk beneath the academic etiquette, contrary to popular
belief. She'd been at their
headquarters when he'd brought a quart in that time.
Langly...Chunky Monkey, Phish Food and Cherry Garcia, all shmushed
into one easily- unappetizing creation.
Never one afraid to experiment on himself, which was probably why
he was having stomach upsets more often with the passage of years. The
vast, starry firmament, flecked with the diamond-like luminance of
incidental light, drew her eyes heavenward as it had both hers and
Mulder's eyes that special night. Small
comfort was better than none to think that this same night sky, just
beginning to darken where they were, watched over them too.
She smiled, then spoke to the glittery audience. "Godspeed,
Mulder. Godspeed, Gunmen...
There are none whom I trust more."
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