From: touchstone98@tx.rr.com   
      
   *NO ARCHIVE*   
      
      
      
   Title: Work of Art   
   Author: Susan   
      
   **********   
   New e-mail address: touchstone98@tx.rr.com   
   **********   
      
   Classification: Christmas vignette   
   Rating: G   
   Archive: No archive without permission.   
   Disclaimer: On paper, these characters aren't mine.   
   In my head, they are.   
      
   Summary: "You know, you really didn't have to come   
   down here with me, Scully," he says, glancing over   
   at her. "But I'm glad you did."   
   ********************************************************   
      
   Work of Art   
   by Susan   
   ~~~~   
      
   Wet flakes of snow fly off the windshield and   
   onto the ground as he flips on the wipers.   
      
   It's been snowing for as long as he's been   
   driving, but he hasn't really been paying that   
   much attention. He's barely said two words from   
   the time they got into the car, but she hasn't   
   pushed him to talk, instead leaving him alone   
   with his thoughts.   
      
   "We should be there in about five minutes," he   
   remarks, his low voice finally breaking the   
   silence between them.   
      
   "Okay," she says, not sure whether he wants to   
   start talking to her now or not.   
      
   "You know, you really didn't have to come down   
   here with me, Scully," he says, glancing over   
   at her. "But I'm glad you did."   
      
   She reaches over, pats his knee, and smiles.   
   "I'm glad I did too."   
      
   He smiles back at her, then turns his attention   
   back to the road. "I remember last year when   
   I came here, it had to have been at least 75   
   degrees, and now look at it." He flips the   
   switch with his left hand, increasing the speed   
   of the wipers by two notches.   
      
   "It's really coming down, isn't it?" she remarks,   
   watching the right wiper hurl yet another glob   
   of snow off the glass.   
      
   "You know, she always liked the snow," he says   
   quietly.   
      
   It's the first time he's spoken of her in weeks,   
   not with sadness and regret, but with a fondness   
   she'd never heard before.   
      
   "Oh?" she says, turning towards him in her seat.   
      
   "Yeah, especially when it was the wet heavy   
   snowflakes like this," he continues. "She liked   
   the way they would stick to the tree branches."   
      
   "I like that too, especially first thing in the   
   morning when everything's so quiet and still,"   
   remarks Scully, anxious to hear more.   
      
   "She always used to say that looking at newly   
   fallen snow on the trees was like looking at a   
   great work of art."   
      
   His eyes looking straight ahead, his heart   
   looking back on a calmer, gentler time in his   
   life, he lets out a wistful sigh. "I guess all   
   this snow today seems kind of fitting, don't   
   you think?"   
      
   "Yes, I guess it does," she softly says.   
      
   He slows down then, drives through the entrance,   
   and turns down the now familiar path.  Freshly   
   fallen snow is everywhere she looks, and her   
   boots sink into it the moment she steps out of   
   the car.   
      
   "Do you want me to go with you?" she asks.   
      
   He closes the door, walks over to her side of   
   the car. "I think I'd like to be alone," he   
   replies, reaching for her hand. "But don't go   
   anywhere, okay?" he adds as he squeezes her   
   fingers, then lets his hand drop.   
      
   "I'll be right here."   
      
   "Thanks." He bends over and kisses her on the   
   cheek then, and starts walking, his boots   
   crunching in the snow, his long lean body   
   gracefully moving down the white pathway until   
   he comes to the place where he needs to be.   
      
   Standing by her grave, he puts his hand on the   
   headstone, and bows his head.   
      
   You're a good son, she thinks as she watches   
   him stand there for several minutes, the white   
   flakes landing on the shoulders of his black   
   coat.   
      
   A good son who still loves and believes in his   
   mother.   
      
   "And a good man," she whispers to herself as   
   she brushes off the flakes on her own coat.   
      
   She starts to walk towards him, and though she   
   knows he wants to be alone, she also knows that   
   he won't turn her away when she joins him.   
      
   Standing by his side now, she slides her gloved   
   hand inside his. "She knows you're here, Mulder,"   
   she says quietly.   
      
   He finally lifts his head, turns to face her.   
   "Do you think so?"   
      
   "I know it," she replies with certainty. "Whenever   
   I go visit Melissa, I always feel her right there   
   with me."   
      
   She lets go of his hand, puts her arm around him,   
   rests her head against his chest. "And I'm sure   
   your mom knows you're here right now."   
      
   He pulls her closer, his warm body enveloping her.   
   "I hope so."   
      
   The two of them simply stand there then, flakes   
   dizzily falling from the sky, and everything   
   around them painted in soft layers of white.   
      
   "We should go," he finally says as he lets her   
   go. "Your mom's expecting you."   
      
   "Yes, she is, but I'm sure she'll understand if   
   I'm a little late, especially with all this snow."   
      
   "I'm not going to be the one responsible for   
   keeping you from your mom on Christmas Eve,   
   Scully."   
      
   "And I'm not going to have you speeding down the   
   highway just to get me home in time for dinner,"   
   she counters as they both begin to walk back to   
   the car. "I'll just give her a call and tell her   
   that I'll get there when I can...and that you're   
   coming with me."   
      
   "I don't want to intrude on your holiday dinner,"   
   he argues, though it's a weak argument at best.   
      
   She looks up at him, tries to keep a straight   
   face. "And since when have you been worried about   
   intruding on someone? Aren't you the one who broke   
   into Dr. Richards' office just last week to get   
   those files on his last two patients?" she teases.   
      
   "Yeah, but that's different," he protests, walking   
   around to the driver's side of the car. "I was   
   just doing my job."   
      
   A playful smile crosses her face as she opens   
   the door and looks at him over the roof of the   
   car. "Whatever you say, Mulder."   
      
   He gives her a quick smile in return, then   
   glances over at his mother's grave as he   
   ponders her offer. "Okay, I'll come with you,"   
   he finally relents, though neither one of them   
   is surprised when he says yes.   
      
   Brushing the snow off their coats, they get   
   into the car and close the doors. He turns on   
   the engine and flips the wiper switch to the   
   highest speed. The snow is thick and heavy,   
   but it only takes a few swipes of the wiper   
   before the windshield is cleared enough for   
   him to see.   
      
   He looks out towards the cemetery one last   
   time, bites his lip and closes his eyes a   
   moment, then backs out of his parking spot,   
   and though she knows he needs it to be quiet   
   now, she also knows that he'll want to talk   
   later.   
      
   And she'll be ready to listen when he does.   
      
      
   ~end~   
      
      
   Have a wonderful Christmas, and thanks for   
   reading.   
      
   possibilities   
   http://possibilities.bravehost.com/   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
   
   
     
   
      
      
       
   
               
*NO ARCHIVE*
   
   
   
   Title: Work of Art
   
   Author: Susan
   
   
   
   **********
   
      
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